Shan R.K

The lines that blur between love and war are often the only thing keeping you alive.

I wasn't a full Italian. My mother was a Russian, a female of the Bratva. To create peace between the Famiglia her family, the Bratva gave her up. 

My father always said I was born lucky, I would never have to marry for power. I could choose. And for a while, I believed him. For a while, I thought I could marry Leonardo Catelli.

Until HE, Marco Catelli, eldest son of the Capo of the Famiglia lost his betrothed. Until he rose to be the Capo Dei Capi, The Boss of all Bosses. Until he needed an heir, a wife. Until he chose me. 

My name is Aliyana Capello, daughter of Consigliere Sartini Capello and this is my confession. 

"Bury him, mourn his death. But come Monday morning you mine Aliyana." Marco

The story follows Aliyana Capello and Marco Catelli's life and the events leading them to the alter.

When Lorenzo Catelli is murdered, Marco promises to avenge his brother's death with the help of Aliyana and his siblings. But as the answers are found, more people in the 5th State are murdered. When a cold past comes back, Marco finally sees some light in his corner. But all is not as it seems.
Enemies are never far and few in the 5th State.

Forced into a war he never wanted to protect the one he loves, Marco must choose the extent of the crimes he will commit and the enemies he will make especially if that enemy happens to be his future wife.

Boss of All Bosses

I skip down the passage and around the corner, opening the kitchen door. I walk around the opposite side of the house leading to Papa’s office. Normally, I went through the lounge and behind the staircase, but I have been trying to avoid that side since it had a picture of Ren and I. 


 I knock on my father’s door. The white door doesn’t hint at what you’d find inside. No clue at all. 


 Sometimes doors could be ignorant too. 


 I shake my head at my stupid silent rambling of wayward thoughts. 


 “Come in.” I look at my bare feet, red and blue beach towel wrapped around my body and long blonde hair wet around my shoulders. 


 Puffing my chest, I straighten my back as I put my hand on the gold handle and twist. 


 My father’s head lifts from his laptop. His desk is full of paper work. A frame of his children and the one of my mothers sit on the far-left corner. A snow globe Guilia got for his birthday and a few other trinkets make up the top right side. A family man. 
