Mafia Boss Quotes

If you think your boss is stupid, remember: you wouldn’t have a job if he was any smarter.

Step one, accept she was a damn boss. Step two, hide all the knives, guns, and maybe the pillows, too.

Vladimir leaned forward. “Never dilute vodka. Is sin.

I have traveled around the world. I’ve walked the Great Wall of China, eaten dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and ridden the bullet train from Tokyo to Osaka. That’s not all. I’ve led an army into battle on dragonback, seduced a vicious mafia boss, and journeyed back in time to fall in love with everyone from Vikings to the Knights of the Round Table. I’ve lived a thousand lives. Too bad the only real one fucking sucks.

It’s not okay to send a feeble kid out to fight our battles, and it’s not okay to push people around like pawns on a fuckin chessboard and it’s not okay giving orders to kill like a Mafia boss.

The dark winds are nearing. I can sense them. I can feel them in the air all around me, like a distant echoes. The twilight must fall, and the Dragon must awake.

Thomas,” the boss said. “How’s your father doing?” “He’s good, Sal.” Always the family questions first. That was Sal Demenci’s style. He could be about to whack someone and he’d ask how the guy’s sister was doing in school.

Trump’s pick for secretary of state? Rex Tillerson, a figure known and trusted in Moscow, and recipient of the Order of Friendship. National security adviser? Michael Flynn, Putin’s dinner companion and a beneficiary of undeclared Russian fees. Campaign manager? Paul Manafort, longtime confidant to ex-Soviet oligarchs. Foreign policy adviser? Carter Page, an alleged Moscow asset who gave documents to Putin’s spies. Commerce secretary? Wilbur Ross, an entrepreneur with Russia-connected investments. Personal lawyer? Michael Cohen, who sent emails to Putin’s press secretary. Business partner? Felix Sater, son of a Russian American mafia boss. And other personalities, too. It was almost as if Putin had played a role in naming Trump’s cabinet. The U.S. president, of course, had done the choosing. But the constellation of individuals, and their immaculate alignment with Russian interests, formed a discernible pattern, like stars against a clear night sky. A pattern of collusion.

What is wrong with you?” I say in lieu of greeting. “You went to Morris’s dorm and declared your intentions?” He offers a faint smile. “Of course. It was the noble thing to do. I can’t be chasing after another guy’s girl without his knowledge.” “I’m not his girl,” I snap. “We went on one date! And now I’m never going to be his girl, because he doesn’t want to go out with me again.” “What the hell?” Logan looks startled. “I’m disappointed in him. I thought he had more of a competitive spirit than that.” “Seriously? You’re going to pretend to be surprised? He won’t see me again because your jackass self told him he couldn’t.” Astonishment fills his eyes. “No, I didn’t.” “Yes, you did.” “Is that what he told you?” Logan demands. “Not in so many words.” “I see. Well, what words did he actually use?” I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. “He said he’s backing off because he doesn’t want to get in the middle of something so complicated. I pointed out that there’s nothing complicated about it, seeing as you and I are not together.” My aggravation heightens. “And then he insisted that I need to give you a chance, because you’re a—” I angrily air-quote Morris’s words “—‘stand-up guy who deserves another shot.’” Logan breaks out in a grin. I stab the air with my finger. “Don’t you dare smile. Obviously you put those words in his mouth. And what the hell was he jabbering about when he told me you and him were ‘family’?” All the disbelief I’d felt during my talk with Morris comes spiraling back, making me pace the bedroom in hurried strides. “What did you say to him, Logan? Did you brainwash him or something? How are you guys family? You don’t even know each other!” Strangled laughter sounds from Logan’s direction. I spin around and level a dark glower at him. “He’s talking about the joint family we created in Mob Boss. It’s this role-playing game where you’re the Don of a mob family and you’re fighting a bunch of other mafia bosses for territory and rackets and stuff. We played it when I went over there, and I ended up staying until four in the morning. Seriously, it was intense.” He shrugs. “We’re the Lorris crime syndicate.” I’m dumbfounded. Oh my God. Lorris? As in Logan and Morris? They fucking Brangelina’d themselves? “What is happening?” I burst out. “You guys are best friends now?” “He’s a cool guy. Actually, he’s even cooler in my book now for stepping down like that. I didn’t ask him to, but clearly he grasps what you refuse to see.” “Yeah, and what’s that?” I mutter. “That you and I are perfect for each other.” No words. There are no words to accurately convey what I’m feeling right now. Horror maybe? Absolute insanity? I mean, it’s not like I’m madly in love with Morris or anything, but if I’d known that kissing Logan at the party would lead to…this, I would have strapped on a frickin’ chastity gag.

It's better to live one day as a lion than a thousand as a lamb." -- Nicodemo "Little Nicky" Scarfo (boss of the Philadelphia/Atlantic City Mafia Family)

What’s this one about?” he asks, handing it off. “A mafia boss cuts a deal with another mafia boss by using his daughter for payment. Marriage of convenience. Normal stuff.

found in the drawer downstairs the other day. It’s by this new author Sienna Mynx. She’s pretty good.

This is the FBI! Open up!

before I realize he’s referring to the cliched and overplayed country song Before He Cheats.

Angelo is still one of the bosses of the Cosa Nostra.

You’re not the boss here. You’re her husband.

Matteo is right next to me, and as much as I want to finish up my book, I want to look at him more. Another sign that I’m ridiculously, unbelievably in love with him.

Having se in a library is like... at the top of my fantasy list.

Vinny was flying on Learjets all over the country to gamble. The fact is, Vinny Gorgeous was the mirror image of John Gotti. The two mob bosses were degenerate gamblers. Vinny even got himself barred from Atlantic City.

Although designated as acting boss, D’Arco sensed he was getting “curved instructions” from Casso, who was transmitting the same information and directions he received to other Lucchese members. The curved instructions were designed to determine if D’Arco was faithfully carrying out his bosses’ commands.

Mafiosi, for Franchetti, were entrepreneurs in violence, specialists who had developed what today would be called the most sophisticated business model in the marketplace. Under the leadership of their bosses, mafia bands ‘invested’ violence in various commercial spheres in order to extort protection money and guarantee monopolies. This was what he called the violence industry. As Franchetti wrote, [in the violence industry] the mafia boss . . . acts as capitalist, impresario and manager. He unifies the management of the crimes committed . . . he regulates the way labour and duties are divided out, and controls discipline amongst the workers. (Discipline is indispensable in this as in any other industry if abundant and constant profits are to be obtained.) It is the mafia boss’s job to judge from circumstances whether the acts of violence should be suspended for a while, or multiplied and made fiercer. He has to adapt to market conditions to choose which operations to carry out, which people to exploit, which form of violence to use.

Dominic, with the powerful aura, got under my skin before I had a chance to ward him off and now I’m screwed. Even more now I know his taste and how hard he feels against the soft, wet parts of me. Dominic just introduced me to the most dangerous man in New York. Fuck. Fuck. Clarity pours over me. Does this mean Dominic is a member of the mafia after all? Only it wasn’t only a little kiss, was it? I’m sexually frustrated and Dom is standing there with his hands in his tailored pants pockets, aroused. The bulge is unmistakable. “Gabriella…” God, I’m wet too. If I rub my thighs together, I’ll feel how much. He’s hard, I’m wet… it’s a match made in heaven. “Gabriella…” he says again, thick and tarnished as I look him up and down. “Yeah?” “I said you’re too far away,” he murmurs, cutting his dark gaze my way. Stirring me. “Come here to me, cara.” he hooks two fingers with a motion and smirks like a devil with the key to all my desires. I swear my belly bottoms out as my feet carry me forward. Unable to refuse the invisible rope he has around my waist, pulling me closer. “Bossy aren’t you?” “I am your boss.” “I don’t think you want to remind me of that.” He hums and the rumble hurtles down between my thighs. How does he do that? Turn me on with just a noise. “I guess you’d like it if I called you sir, wouldn’t you?” His eyes flare and then darken, he drops his chin to his chest. “Do you really wish to turn me on right this moment?” Oh, fuck. Do I? I do. Yeah, I really do.

Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta Verse 1 Damn it feels good to be a gangsta A real gangsta-ass nigga plays his cards right A real gangsta-ass nigga never runs his f**kin mouth Cuz real gangsta-ass niggas don't start fights And niggas always gotta high cap Showin' all his boys how he shot em But real gangsta-ass niggas don't flex nuts Cuz real gangsta-ass niggas know they got em And everythings cool in the mind of a gangsta Cuz gangsta-ass niggas think deep Up three-sixty-five a year 24/7 Cuz real gangsta ass niggas don't sleep And all I gotta say to you Wannabe, gonnabe, cocksuckin', pussy-eatin' prankstas 'Cause when the fire dies down what the f**k you gonna do Damn it feels good to be a gangsta Verse 2 Damn it feels good to be a gangsta Feedin' the poor and helpin out with their bills Although I was born in Jamaica Now I'm in the US makin' deals Damn it feels good to be a gangsta I mean one that you don't really know Ridin' around town in a drop-top Benz Hittin' switches in my black six-fo' Now gangsta-ass niggas come in all shapes and colors Some got killed in the past But this gangtsa here is a smart one Started living for the lord and I last Now all I gotta say to you Wannabe, gonnabe, pussy-eatin' cocksuckin' prankstas When the sh*t jumps off what the f**k you gonna do Damn it feels good to be a gangsta Verse 3 Damn it feels good to be a gangsta A real gangta-ass nigga knows the play Real gangsta-ass niggas get the flyest of the b**ches Ask that gangsta-ass nigga Little Jake Now b**ches look at gangsta-ass niggas like a stop sign And play the role of Little Miss Sweet But catch the b**ch all alone get the digit take her out and then dump-hittin' the ass with the meat Cuz gangsta-ass niggas be the gang playas And everythings quiet in the clique A gangsta-ass nigga pulls the trigger And his partners in the posse ain't tellin' off sh*t Real gangsta-ass niggas don't talk much All ya hear is the black from the gun blast And real gangsta-ass niggas don't run for sh*t Cuz real gangsta-ass niggas can't run fast Now when you in the free world talkin' sh*t do the sh*t Hit the pen and let the mothaf**kas shank ya But niggas like myself kick back and peep game Cuz damn it feels good to be a gangsta Verse 4 And now, a word from the President! Damn it feels good to be a gangsta Gettin voted into the White House Everything lookin good to the people of the world But the Mafia family is my boss So every now and then I owe a favor gettin' down like lettin' a big drug shipment through And send 'em to the poor community So we can bust you know who So voters of the world keep supportin' me And I promise to take you very far Other leaders better not upset me Or I'll send a million troops to die at war To all you Republicans, that helped me win I sincerely like to thank you Cuz now I got the world swingin' from my nuts And damn it feels good to be a gangsta

In November, 1960 it would be Nixon versus Kennedy. Frank Sinatra introduced Judith Exner to John Kennedy on the eve of the New Hampshire primary. A few weeks later, Sinatra introduced Judith Exner to Chicago Mafia boss Sam Giancana. Exner became involved, as William Safire put it, in a “dual affair with the nation’s most powerful mobster and the nation’s most powerful political leader.

I would be a billionaire if I was lookin' to be a selfish boss. That's not me...All I want is a good sandwich.

At this time, too, many Mafia bosses were appointed to responsible positions in the administration simply because there was no one else.

If all the fish in the sea kept their mouths shut, they’d never get caught” is an often repeated mantra in the world of organized crime.

The Life of Lies. The silent circle of assent. The boss in complete control. Loyalty oaths. An us-versus-them worldview. Lying about things, large and small, in service to some warped code of loyalty. These rules and standards were hallmarks of the Mafia, but throughout my career I’d be surprised how often I’d find them applied outside of it.

a pair of storefronts. Charlie Brody fell in love with and married a girl named Marion Cuomo, whose

Kennedy was not merely unfaithful to his wife; he was also indiscreet in his choices. One of his reputed mistresses, Judith Campbell Exner, had been introduced to Senator Kennedy in 1960 by Frank Sinatra. Not long after, she became the mistress of Mafia boss Sam Giancana,

Connie is running at full pelt along the pier. She has shot a mafia boss, she has kissed Bogdan, and she still has her cocaine, so it is hard to judge how that went.

Valentina Rossi, daughter of the infamous mafia boss, Carlo Rossi of New York’s Cosa Nostra.

Connie is running at full pelt along the pier. She has shot a Mafia boss, she has kissed Bogdan, and she still has her cocaine. So, it is hard to judge how that went.

Even if he didn’t have more money than most of the residents here, the police are bankrolled by the Italian Mafia, the boss of which is a client at Ivers International, Boyd’s security firm.

I have traveled around the world. I've walked the Great Wall of China, eaten dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and ridden the bullet train from Tokyo to Osaka. That's not all. I've led an army into battle on dragonback, seduced a vicious mafia boss, and journeyed back in time to fall in love with everyone from Vikings to the Knights of the Round Table. I've lived a thousand lives. Too bad the only real one fucking sucks.

But she can’t know that—Tim and I have never gone to any public event together. And come on, what can Lucia do to me? She isn’t some sort of Mafia boss.

I may not be the mafia boss, but I am the Killer King, and no one… No… One… will touch my queen!

An author is like a mafia boss. He's gotta shepherd a bunch of characters through a plot. He has to maintain control. Any gets outta line, they have to go

I cannot change the past; I'm too broken to affect her present, but I'm hoping I gave her closure for the future.

When he catches me, and overwhelms me with his power and strength, it’s not just him who won the chase. It’s my win too. I won his absolute attention. I gloried in the sensation of being his focus and his world as he hunted me down. And I revel in being his prize.

I had an orgasm on his thigh. And I want to do it again. But on his cock.

Forty-three to her twenty-one years is the age gap between us. It makes my uncontrollable attraction to her taboo. Filthy. Forbidden.

I’d like to fuck you right here in the corridor,” I murmur. “I’d happily take your little virgin pussy up against the wall, or in that big bed you’ll sleep in tonight.” I whisper the filthy words into her ear. “I’d delight in making all your dreams come true. However taboo, however dirty, whatever you need. I’d love to hold you down and defile you. Make you take my cock in every wicked position you can think of, and some you can’t begin to imagine.

It’s dark. So very, very dark. The sort of dark that chokes you. That eats all the light, and swallows you whole.

run with glee and freedom and the bite of fear. I run for my life, but not because I think I’ll die when he catches me. Because I know I’ll perish in this cold, brittle cage I live in, if he doesn’t.

If I catch you this time…” He lets the threat hang, unfinished. “Run, little bunny. Run.

That man is everything I’ve ever wanted. He’ll use me in the best way. He’ll spoil and care for me. And I’m pretty sure he’d kill for me.

I feel the tear. I watch her eyes fill with pain as I breach her so slowly and deliberately, she can’t not know that I’m enjoying this. I’m savouring that primal claim. It’s brutish, but she’s as messed up as me, biting her lip and arching up.

I will kneel for you. My tzarina.

Actually, what I want is a rich and dangerous silver fox twice my age, with an interest in chasing me through forests and taking my V-card by force as he calls me his good girl and tugs my hair.

Indeed, you didn’t need to upset him with a critical newspaper article, Sinatra was violent on an equal opportunity basis. Yet, always with some heavyweight help nearby. The columnist Lee Mortimer was held down by toughs outside Ciro’s nightclub on Sunset Strip as Sinatra punched and kicked him about. On the couch you could argue it was the way he was brought up. There were lurid stories about sex parties and his on-off infatuation with Lana Turner who had her own close mobster associations with muscle man Johnny Stompanato and a strong, platonic friendship with his boss Mickey Cohen. With Bing Crosby, who Sinatra saw as a singing rival, she was more familiar.

But, but…just about every spectacular girl in the world gravitated to Hollywood, hoping to get into pictures. Since only a small percentage succeeded, the town was ridiculously overstocked with ridiculously available young women, all of them working the angles, doing absolutely anything they could to get their moment in the Klieg lights (powerful electric lights, used in filming). Sinatra couldn’t turn a corner without smacking into temptation. He made a $15,000 investment to keep many of such temptations private. With mobster Mickey Cohen he invested in Hollywood Nite Life a weekly gossip magazine run by a low life called Jimmy Tarantino. It was, discreetly, owned by Frank Costello, the boss of the New York Luciano ‘Family’.

I’d known my family’s darkest secrets since I was a child and kept that knowledge hidden most of my life. I never gave the smallest clue that I’d known my father was a mafia boss or how I’d discovered his involvement. As far as they were concerned, I was angelic Sofia—a sweet, artistic soul who needed to be shielded and protected from life’s darker side. Every one of us wore masks in my family. We acted a part, keeping strictly to the script and guarding our secrets ruthlessly, and it was exhausting.

ANASTASIA: Xyst was my one indulgence, a slap in the face to the future laid out for me. It was where I traded whispers with the city’s elite, where I was more than just a tactic in my family’s strategy. My role at the club, the thrill of the gamble, the dance of seduction—it was me at my most alive. And tonight, like most nights, I was embracing that defiance. It was the only piece of my life that was truly mine, and I’d fight tooth and nail to keep it that way. I was a boss lady at Xyst, ruling over a domain of nocturnal secrets. And for a few precious hours, I’d forget about the chains waiting to drag me back into my daytime reality.

Luna?” One of our bosses enters the room. Pretty sure they’re both involved with the Mafia. Bones is a King. Well, that’s what everyone calls him anyway. He owns Kingdom—a hotel and casino—with three other Kings here in Las Vegas. Titan, Grave, Cross, and Bones own this city.

It’s a beautiful sunlit Monday in August, the kind of day that would make your heart sing, your spirit rise. It’s lunchtime, and I’m standing in an absent-minded fog by the German sausage stall in Borough Market, under London Bridge. I can hear the trains rumbling overhead, and it reminds me of that scene from The Godfather, the one where Michael Corleone is about to assassinate his father’s rival mafia boss. Trains always seem to rumble overhead in movies when something ominous is about to happen, and it’s kind of spooky, not to mention fitting, because things couldn’t get much more ominous for me, right now.

It’s like a fickle mafia boss that demands expensive clothes and creams or else it’ll embarrass me in public.

I can tell you that I have taken all the names I have found in the newspapers and looked them up myself. I didn’t find a single one of these names. This Mafia boss, this politician, Osama bin Laden. None of them have accounts here, nor are they delegates to accounts.

Parents who purchase compliance through promise of reward are turning their child into a racketeer, paying for protection. The child becomes the Mafia or union boss, and you take the role of intimidated businessman. If you are bargaining with a terrorist for one more day’s reprieve from anguish, you may then strike a favorable deal. But, if you are training up a child, you need to reconsider your methods. Allowing yourself to be intimidated into compromise will turn your child into a psychological bully.

WHO’S SERVING WHOM? For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. Luke 14:11 You might have noticed, but a lot of politicians have a habit of exalting themselves. They get into politics because they love power, and they stay there because they love wielding it. They think they’re mafia dons who can grant us, or special interests, favors. Actually, in some ways they’re worse than mafia dons because at least mafia dons don’t pretend that what they do is good for the people—at least I don’t think they do. But a lot of politicians certainly do that—bossing you around, taxing you, regulating you, taking away your freedom, and telling you it’s all for your own good. Don’t believe it. Just because someone holds elective office, or is a government employee, doesn’t mean they’re any better than you are. They might think they are, but they’re not. They’re supposed to be serving you—not the other way around. Remember that a true leader is a servant leader, and that ultimately our only Lord and Master is God. SWEET FREEDOM IN Action Today, receive the wisdom of humility gleaned from Jesus, and know that you are the equal, in God’s eyes, of any other man or woman.

Carter Page joined Trump’s campaign in March 2016. In July 2016, Page went to Moscow and delivered a series of speeches on establishing a better relationship with Russia. His recommendations included easing of economic sanctions imposed after the invasion of Crimea in 2014. As the Trump campaign talks about ending TPP and other trade deals, the unelected candidate’s spokespeople are out inviting business with Russian partners especially in industries that are known to have crime bosses and Russian mafia ties.

Back in Washington Frasureˇs delicate diplomacy was supported by his direct superior flamboyant Assistant Secretary of State R.H. To Vice-President Al Gore, Secretary of State Christopher, Ambassador Albright and Leon Fuerth, Gores representative on the National Security Council, any lifting of sanctions against the Serbs would be anathema. They still believed that Serbs had to be punished not wooed. ......Frasure gave this account of talks with Milošević: ...look at him like this....he is a Mafia boss who has gotten tired of doing drugs in South Bronx and so he is planning on moving to Palm Beach and getting into junk bonds. ....... Milošević was not prepared to see the Bosnian Serbs getting defeated militarily, he was very keen on preventing Karadžić from becoming "King of all Serbs"........The moment in which the parties would substitute politics with force was approaching fast.

As for me, I know I'll always carry the guilt from that one decision that changed the trajectory of my life, especially when the past has now come to haunt me.

I’m shattered. Wrecked. Destroyed and rebuilt. Complete. I will never be the same.

He is the master of all he surveys. The kingpin of Rotherhithe is no servant. He’s a dom.

I run from what I love, because he will always catch me. He’s my dark monster and my comfort. I can be his maiden in white, fleeing all responsibility in the night, and the caring mother of his children during the day. In the forest, we can be true to ourselves.

I’ll admit he might’ve been the best fuck of my life—also the craziest—but there is no exception to a crazed mafia boss who wants to control me in every sense.

Reverse psychology is a bitch. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that I won’t look, there’s some sort of weird magnet between us. I can’t seem to resist just peeking.

To all my filthy brats who want to be fucked into submission by the bloodied hands of the mafia boss. Frankie is waiting to break you, choke you and leave his marks all over you … Because that’s what you get for being his good girl.

Ihave traveled around the world. I’ve walked the Great Wall of China, eaten dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and ridden the bullet train from Tokyo to Osaka. That’s not all. I’ve led an army into battle on dragonback, seduced a vicious mafia boss, and journeyed back in time to fall in love with everyone from Vikings to the Knights of the Round Table. I’ve lived a thousand lives. Too bad the only real one fucking sucks.

My name is Mia Mancini. Daughter of Joseph, or Joe “The Rock”, Mancini, head of the Italian mafia here in the United States. He’s one of seven bosses affiliated with the global Italian mafia.

I looked across the table and caught Jack watching me while Chloe and Gage whispered sweet nothings to each other. "What are you looking at?" I demanded. "You." My heart squeezed in my chest. "Well, don't look at me. I would say don't talk to me, either, but we need to get this thing done." "Would it help if I apologized?" Sincerity oozed from every pore of his handsome face. It was incredibly irritating. "Apologize for what? For ghosting me? For kissing Clare? For failing to tell me about your past or your psychotic bunny-boiling ex? For making her so angry that she ratted us out to a Mafia boss who has threatened to kill me and my friends?

You’re just a bundle of sunshine and you don’t know how much I need some sunshine.

Ihave traveled around the world. I’ve walked the Great Wall of China, eaten dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and ridden the bullet train from Tokyo to Osaka. That’s not all. I’ve led an army into battle on dragonback, seduced a vicious mafia boss, and journeyed back in time to fall in love with everyone from Vikings to the Knights of the Round Table. I’ve lived a thousand lives.

Now she could take the man’s money, then cut him into tiny pieces and burn what was left.

I couldn’t wait for the test to come back, and it had nothing to do with proving myself right. Nothing at all.

I’ve been taken captive by a ruthless mafia boss who kills without blinking an eye.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Is the Devil You Know Better Than the Angel You Don't?

Or you're too afraid to get close to me because you know you want the same thing I do, and you won't let your morality be corrupted?

Red was one of my favorite colors. Actually, my favorite was rainbow, but rainbow had red in it so…

Putin discovered that his sources of financing had dried up, even as St. Petersburg’s mafia bosses collected pots of money for Sobchak’s opponents.29 When the votes were counted, Sobchak lost the mayoralty, and Putin lost his job. The consequences were worse for Sobchak, who faced not only the end of his political career but

ADVISOR: (401 to 600 points) An advisor is one of the most strategic ranks in a gang. They are the brains of the Mafia and strategize plans to keep the crew strong and profitable. They are the mastermind behind Mafia. Advisor design action plans to reach goals. They prepare plans, so soldiers take calculated risks to achieve the gang's goals while maintaining secrecy. They are the most trusted and closest to the godfather. You are wise and calm like Advisors in a gang. Your friends and family ask you for advice. You are most likely book-smart and intelligent. You devise plans to achieve your goals. Appropriate careers for you can be as a teacher or a scientist. Although you are mostly not leading the group, you are a special person for the leader. You are primarily introverted and live in your mind a lot.

his father's murder and survives the ruthless battles to become a mob boss. Facing a life sentence, he causes havoc in the underworld when he agrees to testify against his associates and becomes the highest-ranking Mafia turncoat in US history.

I have traveled around the world. I’ve walked the Great Wall of China, eaten dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and ridden the bullet train from Tokyo to Osaka. That’s not all. I’ve led an army into battle on dragonback, seduced a vicious mafia boss, and journeyed back in time to fall in love with everyone from Vikings to the Knights of the Round Table. I’ve lived a thousand lives. Too bad the only real one fucking sucks. I sigh and close the book I’ve been reading. It’s a good one, about a ghost hunter who accidentally falls in love with the spirit she’s supposed to track down. Some people call these guilty pleasure reads, but why should I feel guilt for wanting to escape to somewhere else, even for a little while?

Don't wind me up or I will preach you a sermon that will put a mafia boss to shame and I will use a language that will make a foul mouth sinner, look like an angel, don't make me angry and when I am speaking to you shut up, and you listen,

What am I missing? Well, it’s unlikely that my sample included many terrorists or serial killers. And it’s true that I haven’t interviewed political despots or Mafia bosses. I guess you could argue that I’m overlooking a whole population of grit paragons whose goals are purely selfish or, worse, directed at harming others. On this point, I concede. Partly.

I don't need a knight in shining armor. I need a partner in crime. - Jade Sinclaire

The other problem that Lanza had, and perhaps the most significant, was that he was not a very powerful gangster. Sure, in the Luciano family, he was a high-ranking soldier, he had his own territory, and his influence stretched across the country. But that influence stopped cold when it came to the territories dominated by the other four families in New York City. This was by design—the design of his imprisoned boss, Lucky Luciano. Perhaps it was time to talk to the acting boss of his family—Frank Costello—but even he would have trouble exerting influence over the other families. It had been purposely set up that way to maintain a balance of power and keep the peace in the underworld.

Gurfein said he was open to the idea, so Polakoff told him he would call this “intermediary,” as Polakoff put it.1 Gurfein had no idea who Polakoff was talking about, but he did have faith that Polakoff understood perfectly how the underworld was organized and knew what he was doing. Socks Lanza was happy to be Luciano’s contact. But from what Haffenden had learned about underworld hierarchy, he had his reservations about sending in Lanza to meet Luciano, so when Gurfein reported back that Polakoff had someone else in mind, the commander was more than receptive to the idea. Another dancer was thus added to the circus. Interestingly, Polakoff’s choice wasn’t Frank Costello—Luciano’s acting boss—or anyone from the Luciano family, for that matter. Polakoff knew Luciano well after spending so much time defending him—albeit unsuccessfully—during his trial. So he knew that the person who held the most sway with his client was his business partner, current accountant, and best friend, Meyer “Little Man” Lansky.

We had to maintain a good relationship with Nico because he would bring tourists from his grow shop on Ample Street to our club, Adam said. At the same time, I noticed that Nico had too many friends around town in too many coffeeshops for us to meddle with him in any way, so I had to bow to him being the local; however, it never really happened. I was just respectful to Nico as I was to anyone. Although I didn't tell Adam, I thought he knew that Nico had too many connections for us to try to take away from his store in an underhanded way. Adam had apparently been trying to do this not only recently, as if he wanted to buy Nico's grow shop by the time we opened the coffeeshop near it. At least, that was my thought, or what Adam attempted to make me believe. I knew that Adam would eventually have problems with Nico, or by trusting Nico, and I didn't want to have anything to do with it. I have thought to myself, “Okay, boss buddy, The Prince of Israel, let's see how you're going to burn yourself again with Nico Preson. Let's see how much money you're going to lose this time around trusting this Spaniard or Mallorcan crook again.

I left Martina alone with Nico in that club, trusting her, although I'm still not sure today how she got there. Adam and I drove back to Urgell in an odd silence. I wanted to slap him so badly, but he had a point. Adam knew how to defuse tense situations by instinct, out of fear of getting caught in a lie or cheat and getting slapped. We had to maintain a good relationship with Nico because he would bring tourists from his grow shop on Ample Street to our club, Adam said. At the same time, I noticed that Nico had too many friends around town in too many coffeeshops for us to meddle with him in any way, so I had to bow to him being the local; however, it never really happened. I was just respectful to Nico as I was to anyone. Although I didn't tell Adam, I thought he knew that Nico had too many connections for us to try to take over his store in an underhanded way. Adam had apparently been trying to do this not only recently, as if he wanted to buy Nico's grow shop by the time we opened the coffeeshop near it. At least, that was my thought, or what Adam attempted to make me believe. I knew that Adam would eventually have problems with Nico, or by trusting Nico, and I didn't want to have anything to do with it. I have thought to myself, “Okay, boss buddy, The Prince of Israel, let's see how you're going to burn yourself again with Nico Preson. Let's see how much money you're going to lose this time around trusting this Spaniard or Mallorcan crook again.

Giorgio is…well, he’s a narcissistic asshole. There’s no other way to put it. Everyone knows there are only five bosses in the Cosa Nostra – Rizzo, Torrisi, Vitale, La Rosa, and Falco. The five families run New York, and no one dares go against them.

- Can you keep secrets? - Yesss. - We are going to make one of the biggest coffeeshops in Barcelona with my boss, Adam. - Realllllly? - This Adam guy is kind of my friend and kind of my boss, but I don't trust him; he is a bad guy. “Bad to the bone.” His father is an even darker figure. I am pretty sure that both have killed before, hired to kill people. - I am from Buenos Airessss. - I understand honey but you don’t know this kind of people, these f…g desert roses. - There are Jewish people in Argentina too. - I am sure, baby, but these are not regular Jewish people, not regular Israeli people. These people are dark. Hocus-pocus. Criminal minds. Do you understand? - I guessss. - There are a lot of criminals in this town. They will try to take our club away, just like the Camorra is taking away other people's clubs. Just like that. Do you understand? - Yessss. - I know them; they are one of my clients. If there is anyone in the world who could make a deal with them, it would be me and Adam. He cannot cross me and I cannot cross him either. I would never do that. I am not sure about him though what is on his mind, I can tell there is something he is orchestrating I just don’t know what exactly, but he is as fishy as Sabrina. The problem is that only my ex-girlfriend knows about my signature on the non-profit organization, which is the base of the coffeeshop, the marijuana grow and the smoker club. Do you understand? - Yesssss. - We are talking about millions of Euros monthly cashflow. Do you understand? - Yesssss. - By telling you everything now, you are becoming my trusted; your life is in danger too if they manage to find a gap between us. Do you understand? - Yesssss. - I'm not sure what they're up to. They owe me already more money than anyone in this town would murder for. Do you understand? - Yesssss. - Now you know about it, too. Sabrina didn't care; she didn't think I would make it happen. She doesn’t know about the place. Only you know about it and us. But she will figure it out somehow; she will try to take your position, slipping between the criminals. Do you know how to play chess? - Not really. - OK then. Imagine this as a throne, these chairs you are sitting on top of. OK. No one can remove you from this throne being my girlfriend, no one can stand between us. No one can take the club away from us. They have no chance. Understand? - Yesss. - As long as you stick with me, she cannot do anything; no one can mess with us. Do you understand? - Yes. Everyone in the world would try to take your place, being my girlfriend, and they will try to push you out from this position, which only me I can give you, with Love. They will tell you lies about me and about themselves who’s club is it. Do you understand? - Yes. But why? - Because Rachel and Tom, the other two founding members of the club, Golan, I signed up with, are Adam's puppets. I don't trust any one of them. If they kill me, they never have to pay me what they owe me already, plus they can keep the 33% of the club which belongs to me. 100% Adam would keep. Do you understand now? - Yessss. - We will pull all the trash out and remodel the place without any permit, under the rug, in secret. - I sssseeee. (Eye. See.)

have traveled around the world. I’ve walked the Great Wall of China, eaten dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, and ridden the bullet train from Tokyo to Osaka. That’s not all. I’ve led an army into battle on dragonback, seduced a vicious mafia boss, and journeyed back in time to fall in love with everyone from Vikings to the Knights of the Round Table. I’ve lived a thousand lives. Too bad the only real one fucking sucks.

The mission of the New Yorkers was to build a national organization, aspiring to institutional permanence, based on Sicilian traditions. To suit the geography of the United States, it was decided that rather than have one national head like in Sicily, a boss of bosses, this syndicate should have a ruling family in each major American city with the exception of New York, which would have five families. All in all, it was a democratic approach to American criminality. To coordinate and settle interfamily disputes, there would be a commission of nine members. Behavior would be highly codified, with entry limited to members whose parents were both of Italian origin. The killing of any member needed to be sanctioned by the head of the family. The killing of any family head needed to be sanctioned by the other family heads, the commission. With this plan, Charles “Lucky” Luciano established the blueprint for the American mafia, La Cosa Nostra. It seemed that even in the criminal markets, rational actors tended to collude, form cartels, and create local monopolies, rather than ruthlessly compete for every last dollar to everyone’s detriment.

- So what do you want me to do, Adam? I cannot be everywhere at the same time. I already have to be in three places at once, not just two. My Spanish is much better than it was half a year ago, but I am not native, Adam - I am not Catalan, I am not Spanish. - Alright, alright, alright. Jesus. - What do you mean, Boss Jesus? I am Tomas, the king of the Goys, not the Jews. - HAHAHA. Get serious now. This costs me money. - You’re kidding. You don’t even pay me a salary and my girlfriend is crazy about it. How do you want me to make over 10,000 Euros in net traffic a month if you are sending me to the same Estanco stores that never order and barely have any traffic, just wasting my time, Adam? - Mario made a lot of business with Estancos. - Bullshit, Boss. Mario, Mister Jerk Twister made monkey-business with a handful of Estancos. He sold a set of twelve crumble-cards with a free display in 2012 Spring and he never showed up again, they said. Was he even in Spain, Adam? - That’s not the point. - OK. So what is the point? - Mario made a lot of business. - Would you like to show me the total sum of wholesale figures Mario allegedly made in 2012, Boss? - No. - Because Mario didn’t make 10 000 Euros traffic in an entire year, Boss. Monkey-business. - You are spending 140 Euros on these two kids for the two catalogs and wasting time here with Rachel. - So do you want Rachel to stay here all night to laminate all this by herself, or may I help her so that we can give the catalogs to the two kids and we at least triple our potential tomorrow, so they can do sales, Adam, so they could go and visit all the Estancos as you wish? - Yeah, sure. - Thank you. Adam the tiny Estancos are seasonal and some of them don’t even keep our kinds of products they rely soley on tobacco sales, elder Catalan people. Clubs are opening at every corner, Adam and they need us to supply them with products. They won’t be so seasonal, they cannot rely on the tourism by law they cannot register walk-ins. - Cccc. They register anyone, what are you talking about? - No. Which club? - Club Alfalfa. The custom card client, Mario and Tom made in 2012. - Yeah, the marijuana club where there were two Police razzias both found cocaine twice behind the booth, so far. - But they are open again. Selling weed. - For how long Adam? How many times can they re-open after the Police had shut the club down twice already because of cocaine? How many members or employees they arrested, Adam? Would you bail me out if I go inside the wrong door one day, representing you?

The Golem, The Monster was in love with herself; the Goy was in love with her too. She was in love with Club Golan. A perfect storm was approaching and I could almost feel it. I didn't know what was wrong with my beautiful girlfriend as her face gradually began to look like a monster's and she started treating me like garbage. What was controlling her mind? Who was behind her, making her get so sick again so quickly after meeting some new people at the beach bar? Why did Sabrina say that I would die lonely and sad, and why was Martina's perception of me so wrong and unreal? How was their plan on track, I didn't understand while I was running after Martina and I couldn't understand where our happiness had slipped out of our hands again? I was desperately trying to figure out what had happened to my life, my career, and what had happened to my pretty girlfriend, what had happened to my baby? It was almost like my girlfriend's perceptions were all wrong somehow. She had seen me as a useless homeless bum and she had seen the only value or service in Europe and Barcelona which could make a living or money as, 'short shorts and loose legs'. I felt hopeless and I didn't understand what the spell was. How was my 'Stupid Bunny' a Frankenstein? I could feel it on my skin, and I could see it in Martina's eyes, that the criminals' plans were in play and had been working since the moment Adam arrived in Spain, or maybe even before that somehow. Before I even met Martina. Before we even broke all up with Sabrina. Before the Red Moon, the last date and before the provocation the following night. I felt like 10-20 criminals were trying to bully me and trying to woo Martina and outsmart me with her, but I was so worried for her and was so busy trying to save her every day with her on my mind, as if I too was under spells, under possession and couldn't do anything about it to help her or break the illusions keeping her possessed, even when supposedly she was, we were, rid of the bad people. I felt like I was in a screenplay in the set up stages of a drama. I felt like someone had sat down with a piece of paper and a pen, and was drawing plans against my life. I felt like someone had written a screenplay on how to play this out, how to take the club from me and Martina. Someone must have written a list of characters. Casting. I never called Sabrina a bitch. Adam and Martina both called her “bitch.” Martina said “The Bitch” and Adam said “that Crazy Bitch.” ’The Goy’ ’The Bitch’ ’The Gipsy’ ’The Giants’ ’The Golem’ ’The Lawyer’ ’The Big Boss’ ’My Girlfriend’ ’The False Flag’ ’The Big Brother’ ’The Stupid Bunny’ ’The Big Boss Daddy’ ’The Italian Connection’, etc. I was unable to break any illusion, the secret, the code; I was dumbstruck in love with “my girlfriend” (who I thought was my “stupid bunny”), being the ‘false flag’, and maybe it was actually “the bitch” portrayed by Sabrina who was my true love perhaps, putting me to the tests, with Adam and the rest, using Martina and her brother, playing with strings, with her long pretty fingernails, teaching me a lesson for cheating when I thought she was cheating too and making me unhappy when I thought she was unhappy with me. As if I knew, Sabrina had been behind my new girlfriend, Martina playing roles; I had seen all the signs and jokes. I just couldn't comprehend it having a cover over my eyes. I was unsure what should I do what would be real wise? I didn't think Sabrina would be capable of hurting me at all. Why did Martina keep saying, Tomas you are so nice and tall?

It was uncertain how seriously the police would take the situation, or if I could expect much defence from the law in Spain, where my lawyer had already betrayed me for some reason due to the same coffeeshop, rather working with the mafia. Amina and Nico might have been involved with the Camorra next door, however, their affiliation was uncertain even after multiple attempts to connect their names further. I had notes back home on the table connecting the criminals and their hubs. I was writing to uncover what I knew happened. To discover what I knew. Perhaps it was a mistake to withhold any information from those two officers regarding the coffeeshop. It's possible that I should have informed them that Ruan was working for individuals who intended to use my identity to operate one of the largest, if not the largest, coffeeshops in town. The club was located in the Port of Ciutat Vella, where the Camorra had seemingly established a monopoly since 2014. I was still unsure if Adam, Sabrina, Nico, Amina, and the others had already made a deal with them or not. Yet. She had keys to my home and I had been unable to sleep for weeks already. She had my IDs. I was unsure and concerned as to why she would take them, what was her purpose? If I died somehow and I had no documents, it would be a longer process to identify me. That means more time to sell marijuana behalf my name and get rich. How can one identify a body without any IDs or with missing fingerprints? By examining dental records. Who was the individual inside the circle? The circle within the circle? The Eye within the Eye? The focal point of the wheelcart? With all the spikes pointing towards it. Who was the fictitious Robin Hood, the Boss of their nasty and drug-addicted mafia?

- Can you keep secrets? - Yesss. - We are going to make one of the biggest coffeeshops in Barcelona with my boss, Adam. - Realllllly? - This Adam guy is kind of my friend and kind of my boss, but I don't trust him; he is a bad guy. “Bad to the bone.” His father is an even darker figure. I am pretty sure that both have killed before, hired to kill people. - I am from Buenos Airessss. - I understand honey but you don’t know this kind of people, these f…g desert roses. - There are Jewish people in Argentina too. - I am sure, baby, but these are not regular Jewish people, not regular Israeli people. These people are dark. Hocus-pocus. Criminal minds. Do you understand? - I guessss. - There are a lot of criminals in this town. They will try to take our club away, just like the Camorra is taking away other people's clubs. Just like that. Do you understand? - Yessss. - I know them; they are one of my clients. If there is anyone in the world who could make a deal with them, it would be me and Adam. He cannot cross me and I cannot cross him either. I would never do that. I am not sure about him though what is on his mind, I can tell there is something he is orchestrating I just don’t know what exactly, but he is as fishy as Sabrina. The problem is that only my ex-girlfriend knows about my signature on the non-profit organization, which is the base of the coffeeshop, the marijuana grow and the smoker club. Do you understand? - Yesssss. - We are talking about millions of Euros monthly cashflow. Do you understand? - Yesssss. - By telling you everything now, you are becoming my trusted; your life is in danger too if they manage to find a gap between us. Do you understand? - Yesssss. - I'm not sure what they're up to. They owe me already more money than anyone in this town would murder for. Do you understand? - Yesssss. - Now you know about it, too. Sabrina didn't care; she didn't think I would make it happen. She doesn’t know about the place. Only you know about it and us. But she will figure it out somehow; she will try to take your position, slipping between the criminals. Do you know how to play chess? - Not really. - OK then. Imagine this as a throne, these chairs you are sitting on top of. OK. No one can remove you from this throne being my girlfriend, no one can stand between us. No one can take the club away from us. They have no chance. Understand? - Yesss. - As long as you stick with me, she cannot do anything; no one can mess with us. Do you understand? - Yesss. - Everyone in the world would try to take your place, being my girlfriend, and they will try to push you out from this position, which only me I can give you, with Love. They will tell you lies about me and about themselves who’s club is it. Do you understand? - Yes. But why? - Because Rachel and Tom, the other two founding members of the club, Golan, I signed up with, are Adam's puppets. I don't trust any one of them. If they kill me, they never have to pay me what they owe me already, plus they can keep the 33% of the club which belongs to me. 100% Adam would keep. Do you understand now? - Yessss. - We will pull all the trash out and remodel the place without any permit, under the rug, in secret. - I sssseeee. (Eye. See.)

I took a black and white photograph, which I also posted on Instagram. Her New Balance shoes and her feet crossed, hanging as she sat atop the pile of aluminum chairs, against the backdrop of the many legs of the chairs shining in the street lights in contrast to her dark shoes and leggings, were so captivating. There was a lightness in the way she sat there with her crossed legs dangling, as if she was perched on a cloud and it was the most natural thing as she was my angel. I was still unsure if she really existed or if I had only made her up with Pinto cat one night. It was all like a lucid dream. I was so glad for us and for us becoming rich soon too. I was so glad I could provide her with a future in Europe. I was so glad we would be rich and happy and we would be able to make all our dreams come true and travel the world freely together. I can show her Italy and Hungary and Europe. We can pick where do we want to live or make family. I knew all my life, all my work had led to this girl, this moment, and this future. Ours. She started to rap in Spanish in the Rioplatense dialect as I started to record her. „Loco, loco…” - she was so cute, it sounded like she had learned it on the streets of Buenos Aires, skipping school. She was amazing - so young, so true, so natural and pure and cute. I couldn't get enough of her. I wanted to make kids with her. With only her. Nobody else. By the wall of the church and the bar tables, there were a bunch of metal mobile railings with the Ajuntamiento de Barcelona logo in the middle of each of them. I told Martina to squat down to the level of the Ajuntamiento sign, and before I could finish my sentence, she was already doing it. She posed with the mobile railings, making a funny, cool and happy face while squeezing the Ajuntamiento logo between two of her fingers and pointing at it with her other hand, as if we were mocking the authorities of the Ajuntamiento. She was reading my mind. Like she knew magic. She was such a good girl. She was so pretty, smart and sexy. She was smiling, biting her lower lip, excited, turned on, and in love, I thought, looking like a bunny, or like Whitney Houston on the Brazilian live concert video, so I began to call her “Bunny”. I showed her how Whitney was smiling the same way. I was so blind to see the connection. (“The Cocaine Queen”) I was so much in love with her, so under her spell, I just really wanted her to be the One, I guess. I explained to her that the Camorra was one of my costumers and they had a club close by too and they were taking away other people's coffeeshops, menacing their lives and their families'. I explained to her that we were going to do all demolition and remodeling without any permit, without telling a word to anyone. I told her that we would lie to the residents of the building above us about what we were going to do there for months and months. I told her that she must keep it as our secret. She was nodding happily and she seemed happy that I trusted her. I explained everything to her, I told her about Rachel and Tom and I signing the founding document at Amina's office at the beginning of the same year, 2013. She seemed to understand the weight of all I told her and the reasons why I told her about it all, so she would know, so she wouldn't make a mistake saying the wrong thing in the wrong place at the wrong time. I asked her to pay attention to her surroundings in Barcelona from then on, as there were a lot of criminals, and she was a very pretty girl - not only my girlfriend. She seemed to take it as a privilege to be my girlfriend, and she seemed eternally happy, as was I. I told her that she was the only person I fully trusted. I wanted to send the video of Martina rapping on WhatsApp to Adam, but Martina told me I shouldn't because it was late and, at the end, Adam was my boss. “Yeah but he is not really my boss, in Spain, I am the boss.