Episode 1

"LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD" TRILOGY

BOOK I: Lords of the Underworld: The King

BOOK II: Lords of the Underworld: The Prince of Sin

BOOK III: Lords of the Underworld: The Executioner

Dedication

For those who know that danger can be as addictive as a forbidden kiss.

This book is for those who do not fear the darkness, who surrender to the seduction of danger, and who understand that even the coldest heart can burn in flames when provoked.

Here, love is not sweet; it is fiery, it is cruel, it is relentless.

WARNING

This book is about the mafia, contains explicit scenes of violence, sex, strong language, and sensitive themes. It is an intense, raw, and uncensored story, where danger and passion walk side by side.

If you enjoy an intense romance, full of tension, desire, and chaos… then, welcome.

Read at your own risk.

Enjoy the read!

My name is Cristian Martinez, and I am the king of the Spanish underworld. The eldest of the Martinez brothers. My father, Javier Martinez, had run these businesses for decades, but he decided to retire and leave me on the throne. Arms trafficking, total control of Spain, and three allied families who obey a single voice: mine. Who challenges this order? Well, they don't live to tell the tale.

That day, I was lying next to a woman, her body still warm from the last fuck. Gabriela Sanchez, daughter of one of my allies. She was snuggling up to me, something I hate. Women's damn sentimentality gets on my nerves.

“Cristian…” her voice was wheedling. I already knew where this was going. “We’ve been like this for a while, haven’t you ever thought about… about something more serious?”

I rolled my eyes and ran a hand through my hair. This conversation again?

“No, Gabriela. And I told you from the beginning. You came to my bed knowing it would never be more than this. Now don't come at me with this commitment bullshit.”

She pulled away, hurt. I got up without giving a damn and started to get dressed.

“You really don't have a heart, do you?” her voice was heavy with frustration.

I gave a cold smile.

“No. And if I did, it wouldn't be your problem.”

I left before she could start crying or make a scene. I didn't have the patience for it.

In the car, I was driving my Bugatti when I called Ramon, my younger brother.

“Ramon, you bastard, are you ready for tonight? That deal with the Russians could be a trap.”

“Of course, hermano. But if it’s a trap, we’ll send those sons of bitches to hell before they can even draw their weapons.”

“Good that you’re ready. I don’t like surprises.”

“And since when do you like anything?” he laughed.

I kept driving, my mind already planning the meeting, when suddenly…

“¡Mierda!” I slammed on the brakes. A figure was crossing the street right in front of me. The sound of something hitting the car made me curse louder.

I got out, furious, and came face to face with a young woman… covered in cake. Yes, a damn cake was spread all over the ground, on her, and, by the looks of it, on my car too.

“What the fuck…” I muttered, looking at the scene.

She was pissed off, her eyes shining with anger as she cleaned herself up.

“Are you blind or what?! Isn’t crossing the street enough, now you have to go around running over innocent people?!”

I raised an eyebrow. What the hell?

“You’re the one who crossed without looking, idiot. I should just leave you there and go on with my life.”

She huffed, picking pieces of cake out of her hair.

“Wonderful, not only blind but arrogant too. A prize for you, Mr. ‘I Own the Street’!”

I should have been irritated. But, for some reason, I just found this girl completely crazy. She turned, still huffing, and walked away… covered in cake.

I shook my head and got back in the car. Crazy.

...----------------...

At the family mansion, my father was waiting for me in his office. Javier Martinez still had presence, despite his retirement.

“How was your night?” he asked, picking up a cigar.

“Quiet. But today we have a negotiation with the Russians. If they try any shit, we’ll wipe them out.”

He nodded, satisfied, and Carmen, the family's trusted maid, served us coffee.

“I need a new head chef. The last one… was let go,” my voice was loaded with meaning.

My father smiled, amused.

“Ah, Cristian, always so… efficient.”

I called Carmen.

“Do you know anyone reliable, competent, invisible, and mute? I want someone who cooks and disappears. No small talk, no fuss.”

She thought for a moment and then smiled.