SugaryWinter

Do you ever wonder what your life will be like when you cross paths with your arch nemesis? Yes? Well buckle up, it’s a wild ride.

Katarina Montenegro is what everyone would simply call spoiled. She was raised with a silver spoon in her mouth and a custom Tiffany’s diamond tiara on her head. She was referred to as The Spanish Princess by everyone who knew of her existence, and she revelled in the nickname. She was young, cunning, and powerful. There was nothing Katarina wanted that she didn’t have. 

On the other hand, Marco DiBiancci was known by everyone as The Emperor Lynx, due to his ability to see through deception as easily as he could breathe. Unlike Katarina, who lived a mainly pampered life, Marco was raised by a strict father who wanted him to be in the front lines of the job since he was fourteen years old. He had spent his years getting his hands dirty and washing them again. He was young, strong, and powerful. There was nothing Marco wanted that he didn’t take for himself. 

The common ground? They were both set to inherit their father’s thrones as King and Queen of their respective organised crime kingdoms. 

The problem? Marco wanted Katarina, or more importantly, he wanted what she was set to lay claim on. Even though the two had never met, Marco was determined to get his hands on her by all means necessary, and that’s how we’re here.

This is how I, Katarina Montenegro, was kidnapped by the Italian mafia.

[WARNING: highly foul language and mature themes]

Kidnapped by the Italian Mafia

The matron broke through my fearful haze by tapping her cane on the ground yet again and saying something that was probably a 'follow me' before heading toward the door. Shakily, I stood and did just that, scampering after her down a few empty corridors with guards posted at certain points and many doors before going into a room through a wooden push door with no knob, on the other side of which I could hear gentle music. 


The smell that hit me as we stepped through was nearly enough to knock me off my feet and induce a coughing fit. We'd entered an opium lounge with low lighting and all manner of noises coming from its sections. 


Each section was divided by curtains of different kinds; some were sheer, some were opaque. I could tell they were all occupied because of the sounds of people talking, but the common denominator was all the girls who walked around dressed in lingerie with serving platters in their hands from cubicles to a bar in the far back, then back to the cubicles. 


The Wakening (2)