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An adorable mafiosoEN
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Dante Bellandi, the eldest son of a ruthless Reggio Calabria clan leader, is thrust into a vortex of power following his father’s sudden death. At just twenty-three, Dante becomes the unexpected heir to an empire built on blood and betrayal, facing enemies lurking in every shadow—and allies whose loyalty is as fickle as their moods. Amid the chaos, his world collides with Svetlana’s—a gifted ballerina who lives for the spotlight, unaware of the dark secrets that rule the underworld of Italian crime. An unexpected abduction tears her from her dreamlike existence, forcing her to confront a perilous reality where love and revenge are two sides of the same coin. As Dante and Svetlana grapple with their own demons, an unforeseen attraction sparks between them, threatening to dismantle the walls they’ve built to protect themselves. But in the world of the mafia, love is no luxury—it’s a weapon that could destroy them both. Caught between conspiracies, fractured loyalties, and a legacy that threatens to consume him, Dante must choose: fight for the power he inherited… or risk everything for the one woman who could save him—or doom him.
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Prologue
“DROP YOUR FUCKING WEAPONS OR I’LL BLOW HER FUCKING BRAINS OUT!”
The world froze.
“My sun…” Dante whispered.
There she was.
Amid smoke and rubble. Her wedding dress torn, stained with mud and blood. Her hair undone, disheveled. She was trembling, eyes wide open—filled with fear... with tears.And the gun.
Black. Cold. Pressed hard against her head.Nikolai’s hand shook—with rage.
“No…” Dante felt the ground vanish beneath him.
Behind Nikolai, several men had their weapons aimed at his people. His mother. His little brother...
“DROP YOUR GUNS!” Nikolai roared. “NOW!”
“Drop them!” Dante echoed, his voice breaking.
Everyone obeyed, and silence fell—more brutal than any bullet.
Nikolai smirked, lips curling.
“Look at me, Bellandi. Checkmate, Italian mutt.”
Dante couldn’t breathe.
Her. His sun. His everything. She had a gun to her head.He couldn’t move. Not while that bastard held her like that.
She looked at him—silent—but her eyes screamed for help. Tears carved paths of ash down her face.“Is this what you wanted, my love?” Nikolai murmured, brushing the barrel against her skin. “White flowers? A dream wedding? I would’ve given you that and more.”
She shut her eyes, and a thick tear slipped down her jaw.
“Let her go!” Dante roared. “Take me, you son of a bitch! Kill me instead!”
“Kill you?” Nikolai let out a dry, unhinged laugh. “No, Bellandi. I told you—that was never on the table.”
She gasped, cracking, her legs trembling.
Dante stepped forward.
The Russians raised their guns—one of them aiming straight at his little brother’s chest.“NO!” his terrified mother screamed, clutching the child. “Please, don’t shoot him!”
“One more fucking move,” Nikolai snarled, pressing the gun harder against her temple, “and I’ll kill every single one of you. One by one.”
Dante froze, fists clenched, fury choking him.
“She’ll never be yours,” he spat.
“She wasn’t yours either. And still, you kidnapped her,” Nikolai shot back. “We’re not so different, you and I.”
The air turned heavy, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
One wrong move—and everything would explode.
She looked at him. Only him.
And in that gaze, everything else vanished.
“Don’t let him take me,” she whispered. “I’d rather die here… with you.”
Something shattered inside Dante.
His heart. His soul. His whole goddamn life.He was shaking.
With rage. With love. With fear.“Let her go!” he roared, moving forward. “Take me! My life, my empire, whatever you want! Just let her go!”
Nikolai tilted his head, that crooked smile curdling blood.
“Your life? I already have it. Your empire? We reduced it to ashes today. The only thing left was to rip away what you loved most.”
Dante stepped closer, chest heaving, as if his heart were trying to leap out to shield her.
“Take me! Tear me apart if you want! But not her!”
Nikolai looked at him with delight. Not mockery. Not scorn.
Sick pleasure.
“You?” He let out a dry laugh.
“What joy would I get from doing to you what I want to do to her?” He licked her face.Dante’s fists cracked. Bone grinding against bone.
He took another step.Nikolai moved the gun—more pressure.
“Not another inch,” he growled.
“Damn you!” Dante bellowed—but stopped.
The helicopter roared overhead, shattering the smoke-choked sky, scattering dead petals, dust, and ash.
The flames at the pergola blazed like an omen. Dante walked through corpses and ruins, eyes locked on her. On his sun.Two men grabbed her roughly.
Nikolai opened the helicopter door, grinning like a fucking demon.Dante wasn’t thinking anymore.
He just roared.“Let my wife go, you bastard!”
His voice cracked—feral, broken, agonizing.
Then he saw it.
A pistol.
Tossed among the dead roses. Half-buried. Like a sign. A final chance.Dante dove. Rolled. Grabbed the gun.
And just as he pulled the trigger—BANG!
A shot hit him.
The pistol dropped from his hand.
Blood bloomed across his chest, soaking his shirt in red.
“NOOOOOOO!” she screamed, ripping the air apart.
She tried to run to him, but Nikolai shoved her into the helicopter like a sack of meat.
Dante collapsed to the ground, teeth clenched from the searing pain.
He was drenched in blood, life slipping away. But his eyes—his eyes stayed on her. Only her.He saw her banging on the door of the chopper, sobbing, screaming—
“Dante! DANTE!”
The helicopter lifted into the air, swallowed by screams, wind, and dust.
And on the ground, beneath a sky turning gray as if mourning with them,
Dante Bellandi bled.“My sun…” he whispered—before losing consciousness.
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007
“Who sent you?” Dante asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer, but he needed to buy time.The man advanced with lethal calm, searching for the next angle to fire.The air in the bedroom was dense, electric. Hidden behind the heavy dresser, Dante sharpened his senses. He heard the footsteps—measured, feline. The attacker moved like a predator, but Dante was no prey. His whole life had prepared him for this.The man raised the weapon. Pulled the trigger.Nothing. A dry click broke the silence. The gun jammed.That was all Dante needed.He leapt from hiding like a furious shadow and slammed into the man with brutal force. They both went down. The pistol flew from his hand and slid under the bed.Dante didn’t hesitate. Instinct and fury took over. His hands went for the attacker’s throat, but the man reacted quickly, landing an elbow to Dante’s jaw.“You’ll need more than that,” Dante growled, every word vibrating with rage.The man tried to get up, but Dante grabbed his leg and slammed him
006
Throughout the day, Dante found himself trapped in a whirlwind of endless meetings, negotiations with leaders of rival clans, and critical decisions about shipments and alliances that, under any other circumstances, would have demanded his full attention. But this time was different. No matter how hard he tried to focus, his mind always wandered back to her: the dancer. That ethereal figure that had embedded itself in his thoughts with an unsettling familiarity, teetering on the edge between memory and obsession.Meanwhile, Svetlana had been returned to the austere room assigned to her in the villa on the Calabrian coast. Plans to present her to Dante had been postponed due to urgent matters occupying his time: agreements with rival families, decisions about trafficking routes, and constant surveillance against internal betrayals. The young woman spent the hours submerged in a mixture of anxiety and resignation, struggling not to succumb to the fear threatening to consume her. Every c
005
Svetlana felt panic rise in her chest once more. She turned her head slowly—and there he was. A man in his twenties, tall, athletic, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, with dark hair and piercing eyes. He had stepped through a hidden door, one that seemed to emerge from the hedges like a secret passage only he knew.His gaze lingered on her with a mix of intrigue and amusement. It was as if he were savoring the moment, waiting to see what she would do next.Fear rooted her in place, and her grip faltered. Before she could react, her hands slipped, and she began to fall.But she never hit the ground.He moved faster than her thoughts. In one swift motion, he closed the distance and caught her midair. Her breath fled her lungs from the shock of their bodies colliding. When she looked up, she found herself staring into his eyes.Time stopped.He held her with ease, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His eyes, which just seconds ago had gleamed with mischief, now
004
Dante jolted awake, gasping as if he'd just run a marathon.It wasn’t a dream. It was the brutal truth.There it was, heavy on his shoulders—the legacy and curse of his father. Vittorio Bellandi.The man who had etched his name into the Calabrian mafia with blood and fear, but who now lived only in shadows that refused to fade.The cold floor greeted his bare feet as he stood. Heart racing. No time to think.The dark suit waiting for him felt like a yoke. He grabbed it, slipped it on, yanked the tie tight with one swift pull, the weight of responsibility crushing down on him.His brown eyes met their reflection in the mirror—his father’s eyes.Tired. Determined. Haunted.“It’s your turn, Dante,” he murmured, neither pleading nor commanding.He walked toward the meeting room like a man approaching the gallows.The scent of leather, tobacco, and betrayal clung to the walls.Fabio was already there, upright, silent. He stood when he saw him.“Sir.”Dante nodded, aware of the eyes on him.
003
The roar of the private jet faded as it touched down, like a beast finally subdued.Inside, the luxury was nearly obscene. Cream leather, polished wood, crystal glasses. Everything designed for pleasure. But sprawled across one of the couches lay a woman’s limp figure. Svetlana. Skin cold. Pulse faint. Beauty, broken.A porcelain doll trapped in a gilded cage.“Open the door,” the largest man barked, his voice hoarse, his eyes dead. He lifted her like she weighed nothing. Didn't even flinch as her skin brushed his.One of the men opened the door of the black van. Svetlana was placed in the back seat with a false kind of care. As if it mattered.The door shut with a sharp clack—sealing her fate.The others climbed in. One at the wheel, one beside him. Two flanking her. The engine purred, like a predator well-fed. The van devoured the road, gliding like shadow through deeper shadow.No one spoke.Until boredom broke the tension.“I'm starving,” the passenger yawned. “Can we stop for a m
002
The candlelight flickered across the mournful faces, as if even the flames were unsure whether to burn that night.Dante Bellandi turned to face them.Men hardened by blood, bullets, and loyalty bought with fear. Their faces were a gallery of scars, wrinkles, and suspicion. And they all looked at him the same way—waiting to see if he would fall… or rise like his father.There was no room for doubt.No time to grieve.With slow, deliberate steps, Dante approached the coffin. Each stride a sentence, each stare a silent judgment. When he reached it, he looked down. At the fallen titan. The monster. His father.Vittorio Bellandi rested among shadows, eyes closed as if merely asleep.But he was no longer fearsome.Not anymore.Dante swallowed hard.The silence was thick. Sharp.Then he spoke.“My father was a man of iron,” he said, his eyes never leaving the body. “What he built was more than an empire. It was a curse. A legacy of power, yes… but also of death.”Some of the men exchanged g
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