How Does The Mafia Husband Orchestrate The Car Crash?

What happens when a simple decision turns your life upside down? Blood, secrets, and ploys await. ------- It was challenging to pay attention to the meal while your husband was staring at you as if you were his next meal. “Stop looking at me like that, baby,” I whispered in his ear. He muttered, “Then kitten, stop licking the spoon with that sexy tongue.” “Am I not allowed to eat my food now?” I inquired, squandering my innocence. But we both knew I was teasing him, and the bulge in his pants was the obvious sign that I had succeeded. He whispered in his husky Italian accent, “Oh, you are not walking straight when I am done with you tonight, my lovely sweet wife.” Oh, God! ------- Anaya Regio is a naïve 22-year-old girl who is a gentle soul with a simple life, but her simple life takes a complicated turn when she discovers her parents are not her biological parents. Nicolas Ricci is a 27-year-old one of the most feared Mafia bosses in Italy. His only goal in life is to become the number one mafia boss in all history, regardless of the lengths to do so. He is ruthless and a cold-blooded killer. What happens when Anaya becomes a pawn in Nicolas's game and has to get involved in a world of hurt and greed? Will she understand his game and leave him or give in to the attraction she feels? Will Nicolas stay hidden behind the walls he built near his heart, or will he let her steal it? Join the roller coaster journey of Anaya and Nicolas. Where they find deceit, greed, and agony with love, lust, and trust. Warning: Mature content, abuse, blood, and fights.

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.

On the third anniversary of our engagement, my fiancé—Dominic Corleone, heir to one of the most powerful Mafia dynasties in New York—told me he was not ready to form a new family so that our wedding would have to postpone. I told myself to wait for some time, the bond between the Corleones and the Valentinos—our families’ sacred alliance—would hold us together. But what followed were his endless betrayals and tortures. I walked into a bridal boutique and saw him laughing with Liliane, the childhood friend who always lingered too close. I watched him destroy the wedding gown I had spent months designing—then crush my hand beneath his heel until it bled. And when I thought I had hit rock bottom, he proved I was wrong—by getting behind the wheel and running me down. He thought I’d beg and cling to him, terrified of losing the Corleone name and privilege that came with it. But instead, I made one phone call and insisted firmly on canceling the engagement. However, that call didn’t just end a marriage arrangement. It unearthed a secret that had been buried for over a decade…and turned a marriage born of duty into a story of dark devotion.

When the Russo family—the most notorious mafia empire in America—brought me, their long-lost true blood, back to the estate, I set three rules: One: Don't compare me to Chloe, the perfect adopted daughter. Two: Don't give her my things as charity, and don't dump her hand-me-downs on me. Three: Stay out of my private life. The man she was supposed to marry is hers. Our father—the Don—agreed. Chloe and I barely kept a fake peace. But when the marriage alliance came up, the rules went out the window. Her fiancé Marcello chose me—a street-wild girl covered in motor oil. My father was furious. My mother, bitter. My oldest brother, the Underboss, looked at me with pure disgust. Chloe was convinced I seduced her fiancé in bed. But God as my witness, I never touched him. I stormed into his private cigar club, demanding he clear things up. Marcello blew out a puff of smoke and sneered. "The Vitiello family's marriage pact was always with the true Russo blood. We have no intention of taking a fake." As he said it, his sharp dark eyes slid toward a trembling Chloe. A cruel, almost sick thrill flashed in them. It took me a long time to get it. He had too much wildness in his bones to marry a smiling puppet. And I—a foul-mouthed, reckless street girl—became his perfect pawn to rebel against his entire family. I was forced to become Marcello's wife. Three years later, he got bored. He threw a divorce agreement in my face. Filled with my unbearable "sins": "Too stubborn. Zero feminine, in bed or out." "Always showing your face at that biker shop. A disgrace. Unfit for the title of Donna." I stared at him. I remembered why he dumped Chloe—he hated her submissive elegance. Now, what he hated most was that I wasn't submissive, and I wasn't elegant. I flicked the ash from my cigarette and said, dead calm: "Fine. I'll sign."

On our tenth wedding anniversary, I was trapped in a cabin with my daughter, Sofia Costello, as floodwaters raged outside. With shaking hands, I used the emergency satellite phone to call my mafia husband, Henson Costello, and begged for help. I dialed more than 90 times before the call finally went through, yet all I heard was the breathy moans of his first love, Angelina Rossi, on the other end. "Henson...slower..." Before I could even process the shock of his betrayal, I heard a conversation that sent me straight into hell. "That kid was dead weight anyway. Trading him for control of Pier 9 was the best deal the family ever made." It seemed that Leo Costello, my son, who had supposedly drowned at the beach five years ago, had not died in an accident after all. Henson had used him as part of a business deal. All this time, I had been drowning in guilt for taking him to that beach, blaming myself for the tragedy. I never knew the truth was this cruel. Tears streamed down my face as my body shook uncontrollably. After ten years of marriage, I finally realized I had never truly known the man I loved and sacrificed everything for. I picked up my phone again and dialed Vincenzo Moretti's number. "Vince, I'll marry you. But you have to help me destroy the Costello family from power." After a brief silence, his voice came through the line. "Aurelia Astor, I've been waiting ten years to hear you say that."

On the worst night of my life, I booked a male escort to lose my virginity–anything to spite my ex-fiancee who cheated on me a day to our engagement, but nothing would have kept my mind prepared for what was going to happen next; I entered the wrong room and ended up in bed with Marcello Giordano, the most feared Mafia kingpin in the city, and not only that, he's the son of Matteo Giordano, the same man that has sworn to destroy and eliminate anyone connected to my father by blood, following my father's betrayal to the Giordano's family. With dangers lurking around and secrets threatening to spill, I must find a way to escape, but by morning, I was already married to him in a drunken Vegas-style ceremony, and to make matters worse, he refuses to annul the wedding. Why?