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

 His rich scent, wraps around me as a breeze blows by, and my throat clogs knowing that this moment, is fleeting. Knowing he is not mine. “Do you think Ren is in heaven?” I ask him. My gaze focused on his harsh face as the flesh under his left eye twitches. He remains next to me, looking into the garden as if it could talk. 


 “When he looked at you, he could see a glimpse of heaven.” His head turns to me, my face lifted to his, as his stares down at me. 


 I wish I knew what was going through his head. 


 Marco chuckles, “He was pissed. We all were.” His voice is a melody to a sad song, as his eyes, a picture to a lost one. 


 I remain staring as he looks away, his attention on the rose bushes. We stand in silence, both lost to our own thoughts. 


 The air is thick, a lot left unsaid. Feelings still linger between us, not fully formed to give it a name, but intense enough that neither of us choose to leave this, here, now. 
