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

 "If I have to sit with another Moretti again in the next year, I'll kill the fucking lot myself," Leonardo grumbles from the sofa that's flushed against my office WALL by the door. 


 For once I didn’t blame my brother for his bad mood. Leonardo liked to complain. Most of the time it was a complaint not warranted but today was that odd occasion where it was more than warranted. 


 "It was negotiations! They're over! Today we'll meet our stubborn brother’s future bride and possible future end, blah blah blah." Anya makes a wavy notion with her fingers as she turns to face us. 


 "Camilla sounds like a Cruella or Druzella! It doesn't scream Cinderella or Belle," Anya points out, as her black dress kisses my carpet when she spins to face me. 


 “More like the evil witch from Snow White.” 


 “Touché, didn’t know that you watched that sort of thing,” Anya mentions with a chagrin smile. 


 “You know I watch that shit with Mischa.” 
