Mafia King (Mafia Royals #3.5) Read Online Rachel Van Dyken

Categories Genre: Dark, Mafia, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Mafia Royals Series by Rachel Van Dyken
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Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 35896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Mafia King (Mafia Royals #3.5)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Rachel Van Dyken

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
1951812271 (ISBN13: 9781951812270)
Book Information:

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken comes a new story in her Mafia Royals series…
One of the first rules they give you when you're undercover—never fall for the enemy. I didn't just fall for the enemy.
I became what I was supposed to hate. What's worse: I fell in love with one. I live a double life, and both sides know it's only a matter of time before I'm forced to choose.
Rebirth through mafia blood. Or death at the hands of the very government I swore to protect. I have one more job before my time's up.
I just wish it was anything but babysitting a mafia princess who's half my size but knows how to pack such a brutal punch I worry about my ability to have children.
Tin's small but terrifying. And I'm her new bodyguard while we all go on a much-needed vacation. I just have to stick to the plan.
And remember rule number one. And stop kissing her.
****Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**
Books in Series:

Mafia Royals Series by Rachel Van Dyken

Books by Author:

Rachel Van Dyken



One Thousand and One Dark Nights

Once upon a time, in the future…

I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.

I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and

the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast

library at my father’s home and collected thousands

of volumes of fantastic tales.

I learned all about ancient races and bygone

times. About myths and legends and dreams of all

people through the millennium. And the more I read

the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered

that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually

become part of them.

I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher

and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I

would not be telling you this tale now.

But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off

with bravery.

One afternoon, curious about the myth of the

Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to

see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar

(Persian: شهريار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then

sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written

and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,

the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand

women.

Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived

in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged

places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had

never occurred before and that still to this day, I

cannot explain.

Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have

taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can

protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to

protect herself and stay alive.

Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.

And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a

point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.

And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that

he might hear the rest of my dark tale.

As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new

one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before

you now.

Prologue

Tank

“I’m in Hell.” I hung my head in my hands, not giving a shit if Sergio Abandonato, made man, doctor for the Five Families, and truly genuine pain in my FBI ass pulled a gun on me.

Hell, at this point, I’d welcome a knife.

If he told me he was going to cut off my dick and feed it to his chickens—crazy I know, can’t talk about it, too traumatized, carry on—I’d be like…do it, put me out of my fucking misery.

Now.

I beg you!

It all started a year ago. The FBI decided that they wanted me to infiltrate Chicago’s most notorious mafia Families by way of their kids—most of which were my age and attending Eagle Elite University. It sounded like an easy in-and-out job—and then I got to know them. Really know them. And realized that not only was I semi-related by way of my dead parents, but they were also more loyal than any agent I’d ever worked with. I never expected to start working for all five of the most powerful bosses in the Cosa Nostra—to kill for them…look the other way. Or to justify everything they did all in the name of blood and loyalty. But I did.

And now Sergio was looking at me like I had no choice but to do his bidding—again. And smiled while doing it.

I’d never been weak. Never.

Until I met his eldest daughter.

Kartini Abandonato. Or, to most of the Family: Tiny.

Cute, right?

If you’re a huge fan of blood-sucking piranhas, then sure, super-cute. But me? I’m more of a dog guy. So, no, she wasn’t cute.

Oh, she was beautiful.

But cute?

Friendly?

House-trained?

That would be a no.

Even now, I could picture her walking into the kitchen wearing a skin-tight leather leotard with a plunging neckline, heels that could kill a man dead, heavy eye makeup, with one hand full of a bottle of Jack, and the other holding her ever-present vape pen.

Tame?

My. Ass.

And that was the thing. She used to be this…tiny, adorable thing.

Now, she was my job.

My purpose.

Basically, despite our seven-year age difference…she was my job. The girl I guarded, watched over, made sure to keep alive—and all because I’d refused them.

Who?

The Five Families.

They wanted my loyalty.

And I told them I wanted to toe the line between the FBI and the Five Families in order to help.

HELP.

They said they didn’t want help.

But they needed it.

So, I fell on my sword.

And now?

Punished.

“You’ll do it,” her father said with a grin, his hair pulled into a sleek man bun as he sipped his glass of red wine or whatever the hell it was. His smile was amused, all white and cheerful like he had something to be happy about despite the devil owning his daughter’s soul. “And you’ll do it well. Otherwise…” He trained his revolver on me and shrugged. “Target practice.”

“You have chickens for that,” I deadpanned.

He laughed. “No, I have you for that.”

“How…comforting.” I shifted in my seat. “Look, I get that she needs protection, what with her sudden desire to push every rebel button in the history of rebellion, but I’m still working for the FBI. Asking me to be her personal guard and keep the Families out of the shit is crap, and you know it!”


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