Falling For The Mafia Boss

Silence suffocated the air as Matteo, the eldest son of the most dangerous mafia king, stood at the corner of the lounge watching his father, Gonzales, who sat dominantly with a stern face.

He parted his lips and said, "I want Marcus to get married to one of the maids working for us since I didn’t see a reasonable lady around Marcus," he said firmly.

Gonzales, who sat elegantly in his dimly lit bedroom, turned to face his son with a raised brow, clearly caught off guard.

"Why would you bring up such a suggestion?" he asked slowly, his tone stern and questioning.

Matteo stepped forward. "You know it’s our family tradition — as the first son, I have the right to choose a bride for my younger brother. And I’ve made my decision. Marcus isn’t getting any younger."

Gonzales leaned back slightly, intrigued now, as he glared at his son, perplexed. It was true Marcus wasn’t getting younger, but doesn’t this feel so sudden?

"So which maid are you planning on marrying him to?"

"There’s a girl," Matteo continued. "A maid. She’s beautiful, graceful... she caught my eye the moment I saw her. I believe she’s the right one for Marcus."

The older man was quiet for a moment before nodding. "Alright then. We’ll speak to Marcus during dinner tonight. Does that work for you?"

He didn’t want to snatch the right of deciding from his eldest son. His mansion had been quiet for some time now, and his heart was at peace.

"Yes, Father. Thank you." Matteo bowed slightly, showing his respect, before exiting the room.

Unknown to them, their conversation was heard by a maid, which was Raven. She had only gone to drop a laundry basket when the voices pulled her attention. Her eyes widened in disbelief at the shocking revelation.

One of the maids? Married into the Gonzales family? she thought breathlessly. I have to tell Franca!

She ran hastily towards the kitchen, her long, thick brown hair bouncing against her back as she rushed off in excitement.

Marcus was known for his charming look, and the most handsome son among the Mafia’s sons. A devastating combination of wealth, looks, and danger. Women were drawn to him like moths to a flame. Almost every other night, he was seen with a different woman, whisking them into luxury hotels or having drinks poured in dimly lit lounges that knew him too well.

Sometimes, he’d come back home reeking of whiskey and perfume, his shirt half-buttoned, his tie loose, eyes tired but still burning with that familiar arrogance. At home, two particular women made themselves regulars — glamorous, bold, and overly confident. They often introduced themselves as just friends of Marcus whenever anyone asked.

But Raven knew better.

She had been serving as Marcus’s personal maid for eight years now. She had been serving the Gonzales family for years now — eight long, quiet years under the command of the Mafia’s most powerful name. Her presence in their household wasn’t by choice, but by blood-debt. Her father had owed the mafia boss Gonzales, the feared patriarch of the family, a large sum of money. A debt he couldn’t repay before his untimely death.

With no means left to settle what was owed, Raven was taken in under a binding agreement. She would serve the Gonzaless for ten full years in exchange for her father’s freedom from the grave.

It was a cruel but legal deal in their world. A life given in place of a debt unpaid.

Now, with eight years behind her and only two more to go, Raven counted each day with a quiet resolve. Her only dream was freedom — to walk out of the Gonzales mansion and never look back, never have to serve anyone again. But until then, she stayed silent, composed, and watchful — knowing too well that in a house like this, one wrong step could cost her far more than just her remaining years.

She was quiet, observant. She never said a word to interfere in others’ affairs. She had seen and heard enough to know what these women around Marcus really were to him. Lovers? Maybe. Temporary distractions? Definitely.

They, in turn, despised Raven.

"You’re not just a maid," one of them snapped one morning, standing in the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee in hand, staring at Raven with disgust.

"With those curves and that perfect, snow-white skin? Please. Don’t act like we’re stupid," another lady cut in, snapping at Raven. 

"Exactly," the other chimed in with a smirk. "The way Marcus looks at you? It’s obvious. The staring, the smirking — you enjoy it, don’t you?"

Raven kept her posture straight, her tone calm yet cold.

"Whatever you think is going on, isn’t. I serve in this house, that’s all I do," she replied, her voice steady, trying so hard not to snap at them.

One of the ladies laughed. "Good. Then you won’t mind if we stay the night, again."

Raven stared at the lady and gave a soft, practiced smile. "Suit yourselves. I’m not the one who needs to feel threatened."

But as she walked away, she saw Marcus standing at the hallway, his eyes nakedly laced on her, lingering a little too long — just like always.

The kitchen was warm and bustling with the scent of butter, herbs, and sizzling meat. Franca, the personal maid to Lady Lauretta Gonzales, stood near the stove, about to sneak a taste of the chicken sauce simmering in the pot.

She dipped a spoon in quickly, just as Raven burst in.

"Franca!" Raven cried.

Franca nearly jumped out of her skin, the spoon clattering into the pot.

"God! Raven! You scared me! I thought it was Madam Lauretta coming to catch me red-handed," she said, holding her chest. "You know I’m not supposed to taste the food!"

"I’m sorry!" Raven laughed breathlessly. "But I heard something — something big!"

Franca’s eyes narrowed curiously. "What is it?"

Raven stepped closer and whispered, "I overheard Matteo and his father talking. Matteo wants Marcus to marry one of us. One of the maids!"

Franca gasped, eyes wide. "What? Are you serious?"

"I swear! He said he already has someone in mind. A beautiful girl."

Franca blinked, and for a moment, her expression shifted — from surprise to smug delight. "Do you think it’s me?" she asked, placing a hand over her chest dramatically. "I mean... I do serve Lady Lauretta closely. Maybe Matteo noticed me."

Raven blinked. "You think it’s you?"

Franca smiled, dreamy-eyed. "Why not? I’ve caught Matteo staring at me once or twice. Maybe he told Marcus. Or maybe Marcus noticed me himself. Either way... oh, my God. What if I become the next Gonzales bride?!"

Raven chuckled awkwardly but didn’t argue. She didn’t want to burst her friend’s fantasy, even if something in her gut told her Franca might be wrong.

That evening, Raven prepared Marcus’s dinner and made her way down the long hallway toward his room. Her steps slowed as she approached his door, soft instrumental music playing faintly behind it.

She balanced the silver tray in one hand and knocked gently.

"Sir? It’s Raven. I brought your food."

No answer.

She knocked again. "Sir?"

Still nothing — only the low thump of music.

After a pause, she nervously reached for the handle and turned it.

Click.

The door creaked open.

She stepped inside.

Then froze.

Marcus stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, his toned muscles bathed in the dim golden light of his room. But that wasn’t what stunned her. His pants were pushed halfway down, and his hand was wrapped firmly around his huge, aroused d*ck, stroking himself slowly, rhythmically.

He groaned softly, his head tilted back, eyes half-shut in pleasure.

His other hand held a jar of cream and oil — he dipped his fingers and rubbed it along his length, sliding smoothly over his skin.

"Ohhh... fuck..." he muttered slowly, with his eyes half closed, completely to himself, unaware that someone had entered.

Raven stood there, frozen. Her breath hitched. Her mouth dropped open in pure shock.

Crash...

The tray of food slipped from her trembling hands and hit the floor, the dishes clattering and shattering across the marble tiles.

Marcus’s eyes flew open.

Their eyes met.

He froze, hand still on his huge d*ck.

Raven, mouth agape, tried to speak, but nothing came out…