Mafia Stories

Wrong Call, Claimed by the Bratva Boss (Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance)

I didn't mean to call my boss. I definitely didn't mean to leave a seven-minute voicemail of dirty secrets about him. Working for Ruslan Oryolov is the job from hell. The man is impossible-demanding, arrogant, and way too gorgeous for his own good. After eighteen months of fetching his coffee and swallowing my pride, all I wanted was one night of stress relief. But the billionaire CEO of Bane Corporation isn't just a boss from hell. He's the head of the Oryolov Bratva-and now that he's heard every secret I never meant to share, he's decided to claim me. His contract. His rules. His protection for my three orphaned nieces and nephews-the only reason I'm signing my life away to a man I should fear. He owns my signature. He owns my safety. Now he wants my soul.

From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress

For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne. But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.” My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love. He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter. They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."

Reborn To Love My Outlaw Husband

"Once she's finally dead, I want you to take me - right there, in that outlaw President's own bed... promise me, Blaze." Lying in a freezing pool of my own blood, I watched the man I had loved for three years flirt shamelessly with my cousin. Meanwhile, my so-called "best friend" greedily stripped the wedding ring off my bleeding finger. "Take her. Have your fun with her, just don't let that pretty face go to waste," the scumbag sneered, kicking me aside. As a group of tattooed thugs approached with sickening, lustful grins, I was swallowed by absolute, shivering despair. Just as I prepared to bite my own tongue to end it all-a deafening engine roar shattered the night. My husband, the ruthless MC President Axel, the "monster" I had spent my life trying to escape, charged into the hellfire covered in blood. He used his massive frame to shield me from every bullet. With his dying breath, his normally cold eyes held nothing but desperate, humble tenderness. "Don't be afraid... I love you..." When I opened my eyes, I was reborn a year before our fatal fallout. To completely sever ties with the cheating scumbag, I secretly liquidated all my designer assets, transferring the funds into an untraceable offshore account. But the financial report was handed straight to Axel. He forcefully cornered me against the wall, his eyes swirling with a devastating mix of soul-crushing heartbreak and violent obsession as he ruthlessly bit my lip. "Chloe, even if you run to the ends of the earth, I will drag you back in chains!" he growled, his voice hoarse and his eyes red. "But from tonight on... until I see your lover's corpse with my own eyes, don't you ever try to touch me again." I wrapped my arms tightly around his solid waist from behind, my small hands slipping under his half-open leather jacket to trace the hard lines of his tense abs. Feeling his massive body instantly freeze into stone, I stood on my toes and whispered breathily against his ear: "Okay. But before you kill him... hubby, don't you want to come back to bed and fulfill your duties as my husband first?"

Shattered Loyalty, A New Beginning Blooms

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

He Saved Her, I Lost Our Child

For three years, I kept a secret ledger of my husband's sins. A point system to decide exactly when I would leave Blake Santos, the ruthless Underboss of Chicago. I thought the final straw would be him forgetting our anniversary dinner to comfort his "childhood friend," Ariana. I was wrong. The real breaking point came when the restaurant ceiling collapsed. In that split second, Blake didn't look at me. He dove to his right, shielding Ariana with his body, leaving me to be crushed under a half-ton crystal chandelier. I woke up in a sterile hospital room with a shattered leg and a hollow womb. The doctor, trembling and pale, told me my eight-week-old fetus hadn't survived the trauma and blood loss. "We tried to get the O-negative reserves," he stammered, refusing to meet my eyes. "But Dr. Santos ordered us to hold them. He said Miss Whitfield might go into shock from her injuries." "What injuries?" I whispered. "A laceration on her finger," the doctor admitted. "And anxiety." He let our unborn child die to save the blood reserves for his mistress’s paper cut. Blake finally walked into my room hours later, smelling of Ariana’s perfume, expecting me to be the dutiful, silent wife who understood his "duty." Instead, I picked up my pen and wrote the final entry in my black leather book. *Minus five points. He killed our child.* *Total Score: Zero.* I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just signed the divorce papers, called my extraction team, and vanished into the rain before he could turn around.

The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride

Three days before the wedding. I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman. Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress. The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem. It didn't spell Elena. It read Sofia. He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name. Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife. He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance. I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared. "The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?" "Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport." "Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys." I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday. He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead.

My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret

My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.

HIS(18+)

⚠️ WARNING!⚠️ This book contains mature contents,vulgar words,violence,toxicity, and age gap differences, which may be triggering to some readers. ---- He added a second finger into her pussy and she let out a muffled moan."You sure you don't want this?Your pretty little pussy seem to be betraying your words", She gripped the edge of the counter and shut her eyes tight,managing through gritted teeth."I hate you,murderer", His jaw hardened and he stopped his movements with his fingers inside her."Say it again", She wanted his fingers to move in her so badly,as pathetic as it may sound.She gritted her teeth again and let out."I said I hate you,murderer!I wish you would just die and-ahh!",She yelped the minute his fingers left her panties and grabbed her to bend her over his knees as he sat on the tall stool there."What are-ahh!",She yelped when his palm made a harsh contact with her bare ass. "Count!",He growled.

The Capo's Scarred Wife: A Vicious Comeback

I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."

Pampered By The Ruthless Northern Warden

I waited eleven years to marry the Syndicate Underboss. But on the final night of the Old Ways, Silas laughed with his men and announced he would never claim me. Instead, he elevated his adopted sister, Serena, to his side. He left me standing entirely alone at the ceremonial altar, letting the whole mafia family mock me with vulture‑like pity. When I tore Serena's dress in a blind rage, he locked me in an underground fighting cage for his soldiers to jeer at, calling it a fair punishment. His mother openly called me damaged goods, and Silas threatened to give my entire dowry and family territories to Serena if I didn't bow down and apologize to her. For a decade, I endured his emotional abuse, only to realize I was just a convenient shield for his sick obsession with his sister. My heart finally went completely dead. I dropped his blood‑ruby engagement crest into the trash and burned eleven years of memories to ash. Then, I invoked the ancient laws of severance right to his face. "I'm breaking the arrangement." When Alessandro, the lethal Warden of the North, arrived with an armored motorcade to claim me as his Queen, Silas finally panicked. He chased my car, pounding on the glass with bloodshot eyes, begging me to come back. I just looked at him with flat, dead calm and rolled up the window.

DANGEROUS LOVE, MY STEPFATHER SECRET

After my mother died during a robbery in Hawaii, I had no one left but my stepfather, Raviel Marshall. He had always been kind to me, even defending me whenever my mother scolded me. I admired him so deeply that, without realizing it, my admiration turned into love. I tried to suppress my feelings, acting as normally as possible whenever I was around him. Yet, in secret, I constantly dreamed of him-dreams a stepdaughter shouldn't have. But I couldn't hold those feelings back. If I couldn't have Raviel in the real world, then let me have him in my dreams. For weeks, I thought it was all just a dream until I discovered his dark secret. And I was shocked to find out that it hadn't just been a series of erotic dreams.

Broken Vows: The Mafia Princess Strikes Back

I died once. Betrayed. Broken. Left to bleed out in a cold alley with no one to close my eyes. But I woke up. Back in my own body. Before the wedding. Before the lies. Before they destroyed me. This time, when my fiancé's mistress screams that I pushed her down the stairs and killed her baby-I don't beg. I don't cry. I smile. Because I remember everything. And now I know exactly who I am. I am Isabella Valeriano. the Princess of the Chicago. And the weapon they tried to bury is now aimed straight at their throats. I summon my father's deadliest operative. I order the family doctor to examine the "grieving" mistress. And when her fake pregnancy shatters under cold clinical proof, I don't just walk away-I take everything. The engagement? Terminated. The Griffin empire? Crippled. The man who chose a liar over me? On his knees, pen in hand, signing away his family's future. They wanted a scapegoat. They got a queen. My own brother shows up to challenge me, jealous and desperate. Let him. Power isn't given. It's taken. And I've already died once for being weak. Never again. They framed me. They shamed me. They thought I'd break. Now they'll learn what happens when a Valeriano fights back. I am Isabella Valeriano. And this time, I hold all the cards.

Unwanted No More – The Devil Mafia's Love is Mine

"My world is a mess; you want nothing to do with this" "You don't have the right to decide that for me." Her chest was heaving, harsh breaths scraping the walls of her nose. "I am your wife, and I am choosing to be in your mess." He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her closer. "This is your last chance. Once you step in, I can never let go." "I'm not planning on it." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jade Saint, who was switched at birth, is coerced into an arranged marriage after returning to the Sterling home. That is, until Roman Volkov – the richest and most dangerous man in the city – claims her as his bride. Desperate to save her dying adoptive mother, she willingly enters into a contract marriage with the devil himself. But marriage to Roman is not what she thinks it is – not the enemies lurking in the shadows. Not the dangerous world he refuses to explain, and certainly not the way his cold touch begins to feel like a promise instead of a warning. Because the more she tries to understand him, the more she realises he didn't choose her by accident. And the truth behind it all may destroy her.

The Crimson Throne

The Crimson Throne By Eva Obrien In a world where loyalty is lethal and love is a weakness, she must choose between vengeance and survival. When Adriana De Luca's father-the powerful leader of the De Luca crime family-is assassinated, she is left with two options: run and die in hiding or fight to claim the throne that was never meant for her. But in the ruthless world of the mafia, power is taken, not given. To secure her survival, she is forced into an arranged marriage with Lorenzo "Enzo" Moretti, a feared and merciless mafia kingpin who trusts no one. Their union is meant to bring peace between warring families, but when hidden enemies start striking from the shadows, Adriana realizes the real threat isn't outside-it's within. As betrayals unfold and a war erupts, Adriana must decide: ✔ Trust the man she was forced to marry, or destroy him before he destroys her. ✔ Hunt down her father's killer, or become the next target. ✔ Rule with blood, or risk being buried by it. In a game where love is dangerous and power is deadly, will she survive long enough to take what's hers?

His Faulty Secretary

Landing my dream job as a secretary at Damien Enterprise, the biggest tech company in NYC, should have been the best thing that ever happened to me. But no. My life is officially a disaster. Why? Well, for starters, my boss, Damien Gary, is a heartless, arrogant jerk who might actually be the devil reincarnated. And if that wasn't bad enough, he's now recruited me-his clumsy, tech-savvy secretary-into the mafia. Yes, you heard that right, the mafia. Oh, and did I mention I have a bit of a kleptomania problem? Because I may have stolen some money from Damien. Genius move, I know. But here's the kicker-when I offered to pay him back with my body (what was I thinking?), he didn't say no. So now everytime I steal something, my boss punish me with...sex. I'm Ashley Kelly, and I am 1000 percent screwed.

His Possession, Her Escape

I was the wife of Brennan Johnson, the head of the Sterling Syndicate. For years, I was the perfect partner, helping him climb from a young enforcer to the undisputed boss, believing he was the man who had once saved my life and promised to protect me forever. That illusion shattered when I overheard him promising that same protection to a young art student he was sleeping with. When I confronted him, he called me tainted and complicated. When I asked for a divorce, he cut my cheek with shattered glass and snarled that I belonged to him. He publicly gave my foundation and a necklace meant for me to his mistress, declaring her his "one and only" in front of the entire city. The ultimate betrayal came when we were both kidnapped. The kidnappers held a knife to each of our throats and told him to choose. He looked at me, his wife, and said, "I choose her." He abandoned me to be assaulted and killed, walking away with his new love without a backward glance. But I didn't die. An old family loyalist saved me. I faked my death, escaped the country, and built a new life from the ashes of the old one. I was finally free. Until tonight, when he walked into my restaurant, a ghost from a life I had buried. He found me. And he wants me back.

The Mafia King's Runaway Ghost Bride

I woke up freezing in a dark alley with no memory of the last five years, only to stumble back to my powerful mafia family. They wept and told me I had been murdered on my sixteenth birthday. But the real nightmare wasn't my death—it was the man who refused to let my corpse go. Damien Moretti, the ruthless Don of Chicago, went completely mad. He locked my lifeless body in a secret vault, dressing me in pristine silk and worshipping my ghost in the dark. My brothers had to risk their lives to steal my "body" back just to give me a proper burial. Now, he has discovered my tomb is empty, and his hounds are tearing the city apart to find the thieves. "If the Wraith finds out she is breathing, he will lock her in a gilded cage forever." My father's terrified warning rings in my ears. I am trapped in my own home, shivering as fragments of my coma return. I can still feel Damien's phantom kisses and hear his obsessive, necrophilic whispers in the pitch black. Tonight, he forced his way into our estate and stood in my bedroom, desecrating my clothes while I hid breathless in the closet. Tomorrow is the charity gala. My family is risking a mafia war to smuggle me out of the city, and I must escape before the dark king drags me back to my grave.

CLAIMED BY THE DEVIL DON.

Isabella Romano is the neglected princess of her family, casted away unknowingly by her father, she has lived with her mother all her life, seeking some fatherly love but she learnt to stop caring. Now after a reckless night she finds herself tangled in the sheets of a man she was told to always hate. Vladimir Volkov. A man far more scary that what she has been told, he is not just the boogeyman he is the one you send to kill the boogeyman. Imagine her shock when she finds out she hasn't just gotten the attention of The Russian Don but is also carrying his child Follow the hate to love relationship of isabella and Vladimir and watch how they navigate their life in his dark world that he dragged her to, making her and his unborn child a target to the new arising enemy that aims to destroy both the Italians and the Russians.

By the Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead

For two years, I endured agonizing chemo for my leukemia, believing my struggling family was sacrificing everything to save me. But right before my surgery, I overheard my brother and mother whispering outside the door. I didn't have cancer. My family, who were actually billionaires in the Syndicate, had been secretly poisoning me. They needed me weak and dying so my betrothal to the supreme Don could be transferred to their newly found biological daughter. "Once the betrothal is transferred, I will find the best specialists to cure Clara," my brother said coldly. But they didn't know I had already made my choice. Thinking my treatments were starving them, I had just swallowed a vial of lethal, untraceable poison in the bathroom. I died in excruciating agony on the operating table before they even made the first cut. When the surgeon announced I had committed suicide, my family's world completely shattered. My brother found my blood-stained suicide note and the meager cash I had saved to buy them gifts. "We murdered our own daughter," my father sobbed. My mother went completely insane, clutching my rotting corpse, while my brother slit his own wrists in a desperate attempt to feel my pain. They kneeled before my grave, weeping and begging the heavens to let them protect me in the next life. Floating above them as a ghost, I watched their absolute despair with a numb heart. I harbored no hatred, but I knew one thing for certain. In the next life, we will be nothing but strangers.