All Chapters of Married to the ruthless Billionaire Mafia: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

152 Chapters

Brace yourself

Through the sheets of rain, she saw the beam of a flashlight sweeping the trees. A soldier’s voice rang out in Italian, shouting for the hounds.Rose pressed her back against the trunk of a tree, her breath strangled in her throat, her body trembling as she realized she wasn’t the only one in the woods.The barking grew nearer. She clamped her hand over her mouth, willing herself to be silent. Her heart hammered so loudly she swore they could hear it. She crouched lower, mud soaking her dress, the rain plastering her hair against her face.Another shout. Another flashlight. The sweep of light passed just inches from where she hid, and she thought she might faint from sheer terror. If they found her, she knew what would follow.Her only chance was to run before the dogs picked up her scent. She bolted. Branches whipped her face, thorns tore at her arms, but she didn’t care. She ran with everything in her, the road so close now she could almost see

The Don wants perfection

It had been three days since Bella came to her room and told her to brace herself. Three days where Rose had done nothing but pace the floor, press her palms to the window glass, and wonder what Bella meant. She had thought of running again, of tearing through the woods until her lungs gave out, but the memory of Dante’s voice in the rain, low and hard, always pulled her back. You’ll see the basement.That morning she woke to noise unlike anything she had heard since arriving in the Moretti house. Doors opened and shut, footsteps rushed up and down the halls, men barked orders, and furniture scraped against marble. There was no stillness anywhere. Even behind her closed door, she felt the stir of something larger than her.When she opened it, two maids stood waiting. They bowed slightly, one clutching bolts of fabric to her chest, the other balancing stacked boxes tied with silk ribbons.“Signora,” one said with a small smile. “Tomorrow. The wedd

You're not alone in this house

Rose woke to the sound of bells. Not church bells, not the soft kind that belonged to Sundays in small towns, but a low, steady clang that rang from somewhere deep within the Moretti estate. It carried through the walls, vibrating faintly under her skin, pulling her from restless dreams.When she pushed herself up from the bed, the air already smelled different. Heavy with lilies and incense, threaded with smoke from candles she hadn’t lit. Outside her window the courtyard swarmed with men in suits, their polished shoes flashing as they moved crates of wine and cases of glassware. Servants hurried between them with baskets of flowers, ribbons trailing from their arms like banners.The house was awake in a way she had never seen it, alive with purpose. And all of it was for her.Her stomach rolled.A knock came before she had time to steady herself. The door opened without waiting for her reply, and two maids stepped inside. Both bowed th

There's no way out

The gown fit like armor and prison all at once. The silk was heavy, the veil suffocating. Cars waited outside, sleek machines gleaming beneath the late-morning sun.She was placed into a black Maserati. Dante was not inside; only two men she didn’t know rode with her. Neither of them spoke as the convoy pulled away from the Moretti estate, engines snarling in unison. Rose pressed her fingers to the window glass, watching as the city streets gave way to cobblestones, then to the looming silhouette of the church.It was vast, centuries old, carved stone rising into the sky. Bells tolled above, deep and resonant, shaking through her bones. At the steps, men in suits already stood like sentries, ushering guests into the nave.Inside, the church was nothing like she had imagined for a wedding. Candles burned in thick rows, but their glow was muted against stained glass that painted the air in blood-red and deep blue. The smell of incense clung heavily

Women don't deserve lovemaking

The air outside was blinding. Cameras flashed the moment the church doors swung open, their light slicing through Rose’s veil-less face. Reporters, carefully selected and loyal to the Moretti name, lined the steps like vultures dressed in black suits. They didn’t shout questions…none would dare…but their shutters clicked in ruthless rhythm, capturing the bride and groom for the world to see.Dante’s grip on her hand was unyielding. His arm anchored her as though he could sense she might collapse beneath the eyes of so many. His face remained stone, unreadable, the image of a man fulfilling duty with precision.Rose’s throat closed. The bells above rang wild, each toll a hammer against her chest. She wanted to shrink, to vanish, to curl herself away from the lights, the faces, the constant mechanical clicks of the cameras. But Dante leaned slightly toward her, his voice cutting in a whisper no one else could hear.“Smile.”The command was

You'll pretend or I’ll do it for you

Dante pushed the door open without knocking. The room was lit by the soft glow of candles, the bed dressed in white satin, roses scattered across the coverlet as though someone believed such decoration could soften the truth of what the night was meant to be.Rose sat at the edge of the bed, her back rigid, her hands clenched in her lap. When she looked up, her eyes were hollow, rimmed red but dry, as though her tears had burned out long before.He stood still for a moment, watching her. Her hair was let down and the gown clung to her like skin, and he could see her skin from beneath the dress.Something tightened in his chest, but he crushed it quickly. He tugged off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and let the fabric fall to the chair.Her breath caught. "What are you doing?" Her voice was sharp with fear.Dante arched a brow, his tone flat, mocking. "It is our

You must be prepared

Rose sat frozen on the bed long after Dante had forced her to moan, staring at the blood-stained sheet that wasn’t hers. Proof of a violation that had never happened. Even her innocence had been taken from her without a hand on her body.The hours had bled together in a blur of candlelight and silence, broken only by the sound of Dante’s steady breathing on the other side of the bed. She had curled into herself on the far edge, her body rigid, her eyes fixed on the ceiling until exhaustion made her bones ache. But sleep never came.At last, when the faint blue of dawn pushed past the curtains, Dante rose without a word. He pulled on his shirt, adjusted the cuffs with unhurried precision, and left the room as if the night had been routine. The door closed softly behind him.Rose sat rigid, her fingers curled into the sheet where he had lain. The satin was cold now. Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, her mind gnawed raw. Images replayed in her head,

Good for him

The villa had grown quieter in the days that followed. The celebrations were over, the stream of visitors slowed, and Rose found herself left in long stretches of silence. She clung to them. Silence meant she could think.On her table, the small stack of law books sat open. Rose had devoured page after page, her mind grasping at the text like a lifeline. Words about rights, precedents, loopholes. They were weapons. Weapons that required no gun, no muscle…only patience and precision.When her eyes blurred from the print, she pushed the book aside and walked to the balcony. The late afternoon sun washed over the stone, the air thick with the scent of lemon trees from the garden below. Somewhere in the courtyard, men’s voices echoed.Rose curled her fingers against the railing. She wasn’t going to stay here. She wasn’t going to surrender to their rules, their rituals, their false smiles. She would find a way out. And when she did, she wouldn’t just leave. She

I don't accept this as my home

They rode in a black Maserati Quattroporte, which was armored and stretched just enough to hold a narrow table between the seats in the back. Heavy curtains hung over the windows, muting the passing streetlights into dull flashes of gold. The driver and bodyguard rode up front in silence, separated by a tinted partition.Dante sat in the backseat of the lead car, the leather creaking beneath his weight. Across from him, Luca lounged as if the ride were a joyride, one ankle balanced on his knee, fingers drumming idly against the door.“You don’t talk much,” Luca said after a long stretch of silence. His tone was easy, almost mocking. “Strange for a man who will one day command a table of killers.”Dante didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, on the blurred lines of headlights cutting through the dark. “Command doesn’t come from talking.”Luca smirked. “No? I thought it came from making men believe in you. It's hard t

You're a monster

The car slowed. Up ahead, the Romano warehouse loomed, its rusted steel doors shut tight, light bleeding through cracks in the panels. Two lookouts smoked near the entrance, unaware of the wolves circling.The driver killed the headlights. Dante reached for the holster at his side, sliding his pistol free. His reflection in the window showed only stillness, but inside his chest, the burn of disgust sat heavy.“Apri gli occhi,” Dante muttered to the soldiers. Open your eyes.They moved fast. Two Moretti men flanked the entrance, their silenced pistols raised. There was a whisper of air and two muffled cracks, and the Romano guards crumpled onto the pavement without sound.Dante pushed open the steel door. The smell hit him first… oil, dust, cheap wine. Romano soldiers sat around a card table, laughter rising, their guns resting too far from reach.“Che cazzo...” one of them started.Dante fired.The first bullet tore thro

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