Mafia Short Stories & Novels

I gave him seven bullet casings once. Seven promises to forgive. I thought love could trump boundless favoritism. Then he changed the lock code on our home to the birthday of Lena, his long-lost savior and unrequited love. He let her tear apart the home I'd built. He let her steal the wedding gown I'd poured two years into. Six times I stepped back. When he held out the last casing, I threw it away myself. Dean. Seven was the end of it. Whatever the Don wants to lavish on someone else, I'm done fighting for it. I don't want it anymore.

My fiancé presented two engagement rings—one for me, one for my sister to choose first. The first was a three-carat fancy pink diamond, flown in from Antwerp, the kind that made dealers go quiet. The second was a plain platinum band, standard issue, the sort you buy off the tray as a backup. For the first time in my life, I pointed at the pink diamond. "I'll choose first this time." Dante Moretti ran his hand through my hair, the way you soothe a restless dog. "Eleanor, you know Grace has always been particular. If she can't have the best, she'd rather have nothing. You've never cared about any of this. The other one is fine." I didn't answer. My chest felt hollow. We'd grown up together—his father ran the West Coast territory, mine the East. But in Dante's eyes, I'd always been the second daughter, the one who got what Grace didn't want. Every summer, he'd cut watermelon and bring the first plate to Grace. She'd take the center slice—sweetest, seedless, deepest red. He'd push the rest toward me—the pale pink near the rind. "This part's still good. Just not as sweet." When he bought his first Maserati, Grace picked the front seat—less motion sickness. He gestured at the back. "A little tight, but you can pick either side." Even our love was secondhand. He'd loved Grace first. She chose her academic career over him. So Dante, wounded and restless, came to me. In his world, Grace was always the first choice. I looked at the platinum band and pushed it across the table. "Give them both to Grace. I don't want either."

I attend Don Vittorio Moretti's celebration banquet in a white evening gown that once belonged to his late wife. But his seven-year-old daughter, Sofia Moretti, shoves me into the sea. As I plunge into the water, my ankle gets slashed by a jagged iron piling. The scent of blood instantly draws a frenzy of sharks. Above me, Sofia stands on the dock, clapping and laughing. The cruelty in her eyes is identical to the way Vittorio looks at me. Sofia points at me and screams, "Do you really think wearing my Mamma's dress makes you worthy of becoming the Donna of the Moretti family? "You're nothing but my Papa's mistress. If I tell him to throw you out, he'll do it." I thrash against the freezing waves, and with every kick, every bone in my body howls in pain. By the time they pull me ashore, I'm shivering beneath a shawl. I look at Sofia, waiting for an explanation. Instead, she simply lifts her chin and spits in my face. Whatever remained of my hope for the little girl I'd raised for seven years vanishes in that instant. "You don't have to wait for your Padre to throw me out. I'll leave on my own tomorrow."

On my birthday, my mafia husband, Alessandro, didn't come home to celebrate with me. He sent a bodyguard with a bouquet of wilting roses and a text message: [Picked these myself from the garden. Happy birthday, love.] A moment later, his right-hand woman, Chloe, posted an Instagram story. It was a fifty-thousand-dollar custom flower box, filled with black roses, their petals embedded with crushed diamonds. The caption read: [My Capo says, "If you love me, you show me devotion that never dies."] I didn't storm the casino to confront him. I just packed my bags and prepared to leave the city. The first day I was gone, word got back to me that Alessandro couldn't care less. He blew a ring of cigar smoke and said, "The world out there is dangerous. She'll be back in a few days, begging me to take her back." The first month I was gone, Alessandro tracked me down with an international call. "I'll buy you a villa in the Heights. Just come back, okay?" But a villa was never what I wanted.

Seven years married to the Don, and I was finally worn down. During the family meeting I was buried in the paperwork and didn't notice my coffee cup had left a ring on the table. Elio brought the whole thing to a halt. "Danielle. The coaster. I'm not going to say it a third time." Every capo at the table turned to look at me, helpless. My face burned. Then his secretary, Fiona, reached over with a coaster and knocked the coffee over herself. He was on his feet in an instant, all concern. "You okay? Did it burn you?" I froze. I had never once seen Elio go this gentle in the middle of chaos. Fiona gave a shy little smile and came over to me. "Donna. Your coaster." I looked at that young, pretty face of hers. So it wasn't that Elio had no rules. He just didn't use them on her. I stood up. And with everyone watching, I walked straight out of the meeting room. Elio, I'm done waiting on you.

Alessandra Colombo, the Donna of the Marchetti Famiglia, is a Malvorn native. Yet, during her 35th birthday celebration, Carina Esposito, my husband's foster sister, presents her with a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums, which actually symbolize death in Malvorn. I choose not to warn Carina about it, though. It is because in my past life, I disregarded Leone Vittorio's, my husband's, objections and threw that bouquet into the trash for the very survival of the Vittorio Famiglia. Leone binds my hands and dumps me into the dumpster after the banquet and says, "Carina cried for five minutes because of your actions, so I'm punishing you with five days in the dumpster, Valentina. You should reflect on your mistakes during this time and stop crossing Carina." I spend five days without water, feeling rats bite at me in the endless darkness. On the sixth day, Leone's Soldati force me to kneel in the scorching 104-degree sun to apologize. Meanwhile, Leone is inside the house, picking up a piece of watermelon and feeding it to Carina. I eventually die in the midst of agonizing pain. I open my eyes again, only to find out that I'm back at the birthday banquet. I silently watch Carina step forward and present the bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums to Donna Marchetti. "Happy birthday, Donna Marchetti—here's to many more!" I make no move to interfere this time around.

The day before we were scheduled to fly to Meridianna for our wedding, Harrison Tucker, my fiancé of five years, swapped my and my parents' first-class tickets for Mandy and her parents without saying a word. He said casually, "Mandy hasn't been to Meridianna and wanted to take her parents out for vacation, but there weren't that many seats left in first class on our flight... You guys take a ship over. I've already bought you the tickets." I looked toward my fiancé's family, and surprisingly, not a single person opposed Harrison's decision. It was then that I finally gave up all hope. After they boarded the plane and departed, I canceled the wedding venue, as well as the luxury hotel and high-end services I had booked. I want to see exactly how Harrison, a customs declaration clerk making only a few thousand dollars a month, was going to accompany his "dear friend's" family to go around Meridianna without my help.

On the day of mafia families' annual gathering, my mother and I sat in the back of a Lincoln, heading toward the Falcone estate. I was adjusting my dress when my phone buzzed with a video from my fiancé's secretary. The footage showed a middle-aged woman being dragged by her hair across a marble floor. Her cheek was already swelling, red and angry. The secretary's sharp voice cut through the audio as she delivered slap after slap. "Gianna, you pathetic gold-digger! Did you really think you could fool Don Falcone into marrying you, and then let your thieving mother wander into the estate to lift his mother's jewelry? Please." Another slap. The woman's head snapped to the side. "I'm doing Don Falcone a favor by handling this trash." I lowered the phone. My mother sat beside me, checking her watch with a slight frown. When she felt my gaze, she looked up and smiled, then reached over to fold my hand between both of hers. "The Falcone family is struggling with the new casino licensing, but we can help them with that since Don Falcone is your fiancé," she said lightly, "He is a striking man, sweetheart. Once the alliance is sealed, your father and I can help straighten things out." I frowned and replayed the video. Long dark hair pulled back loosely. Warm brown eyes filled with pain. A small scar on her left eyebrow. Oh God. The injured woman was none other than Anthony's mother! I called the secretary immediately. "Lilian, you idiot. That's Anthony's mother!" She let out a vicious laugh. "Please, I know exactly who you are, Gianna. A nobody his father pushed onto him. Don Falcone doesn't give a damn about you, so why would he care about your family?"

My name is Kayla Robinson, and I'm an OB-GYN. I have just finished three emergency surgeries. Not long after I step out of the hospital, my phone rings. My best friend Isabella White's name pops up on the screen. When I answer, her shrill voice comes through the phone. "Kayla, my water just broke, and my stomach hurts like hell! Come to the hospital right now! I want you to deliver my baby yourself!" I instinctively turn around to head back inside when lines of text suddenly flash before my eyes. [Don't go into the operating room.] [Isabella already lost the baby. She doesn't want you to deliver the baby. She just wants a scapegoat.] [Her mafia husband will fly into a rage and snap your neck with his bare hands.] [You won't be the only one to die. Your entire family will suffer his wrath!] I freeze in my tracks. A few moments later, I decide to trust those warnings. After all, my parents' lives are on the line. I can't afford to take the chance.

On my thirtieth birthday, someone placed a photograph of my husband and another woman among my gifts. Dante Rossetti had his arm around Serena Caruso, the young singer he claimed was only a business investment. Every guest at the Don’s feast watched me, waiting for me to cry, break down, or chase after him like I always had. But this time, I only turned the photograph face down and cut the cake. For three months, Dante had been coming home late for Serena’s performances, Serena’s troubles, and Serena’s future. He said he was protecting the family’s investment. He said she was the next big thing. I believed him until the night I needed him most. When my pregnancy took a dangerous turn, I called Dante for help. He never came. That night, I lost the child we had both once treasured. After that, I went to the Rossetti matriarch and made one request. I wanted my marriage dissolved. Dante thought I would always forgive him. He thought I would always wait for him to come home. He was wrong. I left with nothing but the pieces of my broken life. Only after I disappeared did Dante learn the truth. The child he had promised to protect was gone. The wife who had loved him for five years was gone. And for the first time, Dante Rossetti realized that the one person who would have stayed by his side forever was the one person he had pushed away.

"Boss... it's so hard, so deep... fill me up, please?" The moans belonged to my former best friend, Tessa. But the man thrusting into her like a wild animal, slapping her ass and groaning about how good she felt, was my husband. Don Killian. The man who made sure all of Chicago knew he loved me. He even implanted a micro-GPS chip in the back of my neck just to protect me. He always knew Tessa wanted him. But he rejected her countless times. He once said publicly that if she wasn't my best friend, he would've dumped a bitch like her in the river. But three months ago, she finally crawled into his bed. And everything changed. Killian got addicted to her body. Three months. Sixty-six times. And they thought I didn't know. I stared at the calendar. Seven days until our wedding anniversary. I made a call and booked two surgeries. One to dig out the GPS chip. The other to give me a brand-new face. Killian, since you betrayed me... In seven days, I'll give you one last anniversary gift. And then I'll disappear forever.

When the wedding bells rang, my groom, Adrian Moretti, was gone. He was the Don of the Moretti family, and the man I had loved for seven years. By Moretti tradition, today I was meant to be acknowledged as the Don’s wife. Instead, I stood alone before the altar. At the same time, my mother sent a video to our family chat. In it, Adrian knelt in the banquet hall next door and slid my ring onto the finger of my twin sister, Livia Vale. Relatives cheered. My father smiled beside them. Livia cried against Adrian’s shoulder, and he comforted her as if she had always been the bride. I pulled off my veil, ready to demand an explanation, when my mother tagged me. Elena, Livia is your sister. She has always been weak, and she has always given way to you. Let her have this once. I called her with shaking hands. “Why did everyone hide this from me?” “Because you’ve fought with Livia since childhood. If we told you earlier, you would have caused a scene. What if she cut herself again?” “You’re healthy. You can have another wedding later.” “We’re family. Don’t make this ugly over a man.” I held the phone and could not speak. So it was not only my wedding they could give away. They could give me away with it. Then I was done with them.

I was arranged to marry the Mafia Don Silas Monroe. I thought our marriage would be cold and boring. Instead, after the wedding, he became impossible to resist—distant and unreadable by day, but heated and possessive by night. I thought that secret side of him belonged only to me. Until one night, while his mouth was on my skin, a man with my husband’s exact face stepped into the room. The man behind me only smiled against my shoulder. “Be quiet, Anna. You wouldn’t want Silas to find out you’re sleeping with his brother, would you?” That was when I realized the man in my bed was never my husband. It was his twin brother, Eric Monroe.

After I Took Three Bullets For Him, He Said He Was Just My Uncle I took three bullets for Don Lorenzo Moretti, the man I called my uncle. The last one nearly killed me. Only then did the family elders agree to name me Donna. But in the two weeks I lay unconscious, Lorenzo announced his engagement to Ava, the daughter of a family benefactor. The Rocci, my family, lost its power when I was ten. Ever since Lorenzo, a close friend of my father's, brought me to the Moretti estate, I was certain he would one day be my husband, despite our age gap. He always told me to find men my own age, but I just let it go. In my previous life, I crashed their engagement party, a decision that led to a miscarriage and my own violent death. But this is my second chance, and I have learned my lesson. I will reclaim the token of my love, accept my destiny as Donna, and offer myself in a marriage alliance far away in Sicily. Uncle, I finally understand. A young man is far more entertaining than an old one like you.

Everyone knew that I was the treasure Lorenzo Vitali held in the palm of his hand. When I said I wanted to see the stars, he would have every light outside the estate shut off, leaving the whole night sky just for me. Any emerald I glanced at twice at a private auction, he would win for me, no matter the competition, no matter the price. Back then, I believed, and so did everyone else, that I would walk into the Vitali family chapel in a wedding gown and become Lorenzo's wife. Until that dinner party. I accidentally cut Bianca Rossi's cheek with a shattered wine glass. And everything fell apart. Lorenzo didn't hear me out. He had his men take me down to the wine cellar beneath the estate. There were no windows, only damp stone walls, and an iron door as thick as a coffin lid. For three days I had no water, no food. When the pain made me shake, all I could do was curl up on the ground and claw at the cold cracks in the stone with my nails.

Adrian Vale was the Don the whole city feared, and yet he spent three years chasing me, a girl who waited tables. Then, the night before our wedding, my best friend Nina Ashford and I were taken at the same time. With the cold muzzle of a gun against my forehead, I cried out, my voice shaking, “Let Nina go! She’s innocent!” The kidnapper laughed like I’d told a joke. “Innocent? She’s worth a hell of a lot more than you.” My whole body went rigid. The next second he leaned down to my ear, his smile pure malice. “You really think Adrian’s marrying you because he loves you?” “The day you tried on your wedding dress, he was fucking Nina on your bed.” “And that black ring, the one that stands for the Don’s power? He put it on Nina’s finger a long time ago.” I shook my head, over and over, refusing to believe it. But the kidnapper had already stopped looking at me. He dialed Adrian’s number. “Mr. Vale, you need to make a choice. Your bride, or Miss Ashford. Only one of them walks out of here alive.” “Which one do you choose?” In that instant, I forgot how to breathe. On the other end, Adrian was quiet for only a few seconds. Then he said it, perfectly calm. “Let Nina go.”

Three days ago, Julian Sinclair promised me to my face that he would propose to me tonight, at the family dinner. So when the ballroom doors swung open, every eye in the room turned to me, all of them already knowing why. Someone raised a glass, smiling like they already knew the secret. "Congratulations in advance, Donna." I stood there in the crowd, my fingertips trembling a little, waiting for Julian to come to me. But once he was inside, he walked right past me, straight up to Chloe Ross. And then, in front of everyone, he pinned the underboss's silver badge to her chest. "You did good work on the East Harbor cleanup." The room went still for a beat, and then the applause broke out. Chloe looked up at him, her eyes red, as if she'd finally been handed the place that was meant to be hers. I stood frozen, feeling my smile crack apart on my face, piece by piece. Only then did Julian seem to notice something, and he turned back to me. "Don't overthink it." "Tonight belongs to Chloe. Spoiling her moment with a proposal wouldn't be right." "At the next family dinner, I'll hand you the black ring in front of everyone." I looked at him and let out a soft laugh. Julian didn't know. There wasn't going to be a next time. My engagement banquet with the head of the Vaughn family was set for next week.

I sold my brand-new 300,000-dollar Bentley for cheap at a price of 30,000. Everyone thought I had gone crazy, but no one knew I had been reborn. In my last life, my mafia boyfriend, Clay Colton's childhood friend, Wendy Jeffords, was heavily pregnant when she experienced pain during the family's gathering. She grabbed my hand as tears streamed down her face. "Ciara, I'm begging you. I'm going into labor. Please take me to the hospital." I was in a panic, and I quickly drove her to the hospital in my new car. However, the baby suffocated from its umbilical cord wrapped around its neck, and the doctor was unable to save it despite doing his best. After Wendy was discharged, she came crying at my company's door while holding up a sign that read, 'Ciara Snow is a murderer! She killed my baby when she drove dangerously!' She told everyone she met that the ride in my car had been too bumpy, and it caused the umbilical cord to strangle her baby. Someone posted a clip of her online, and it trended right away. My pictures, house address, and phone number were revealed on the internet, and many strangers started cursing at me on my social media. I was fired by my company, and people started throwing rubbish at my door. My parents were too afraid of leaving the house due to harassment. My boyfriend, Clay, did not speak up for me when he was interviewed by the media and instead said, "Ciara loved showing off her new luxury car, and she only has herself to blame for everything that has happened." In the end, I jumped off a building. However, when I opened my eyes, I had returned to the day of the family gathering. Wendy was hugging her belly and looking pale as she approached me. "Ciara, I think I'm in labor. Please drive me to the hospital!"

For five whole years I followed Eli, pouring everything I had into helping him, until he rose to the seat of Don of the Perrone family. At the celebration banquet, Karina, who'd grown up alongside him, spiked my drink to set me up, and I caught her in the act. But for the sake of Karina's reputation, Eli threw me out of the Perrone without a shred of mercy. He even put it about that I'd tried to steal family secrets, and had only been cast out once I was exposed. Overnight, everyone turned on me. I was driven south, and I vanished without a trace for three long years. The next time I saw Eli was at an underground auction in Edel Castle, down south. Karina recognized me the moment she laid eyes on me, and pitched her voice high to humiliate me in front of everyone. "God, Layla, you really will stoop to anything to keep clinging to Eli, won't you!" "Don't you know this is Thorne territory? And here you are, a filthy whore, sneaking in after us." "If they find out a traitor like you slipped in, care to guess whether you'll live to see tomorrow?" I cut my eyes toward her and let out a cold laugh. "Sorry to disappoint you, but this happens to be my territory."

Marcello, the Don of the Valence family, has severe PTSD. He’s cold, and he pushes everyone away. But I can hear his thoughts. I know about the possessiveness hiding under that cold front. When he says, “Stay away from me, I don’t want to see you,” what he’s really thinking is: Lilian, don’t go. Don’t leave me. I really need you. Six years of marriage, and I’m used to him never meaning what he says. But tonight, at the family banquet, his assistant is on his arm again, instead of me. I ask Marcello, “She’s standing where the Don’s wife should be. You got nothing to say about that?” Impatience flashes across Marcello’s face. “You’re twenty minutes late, Lilian. You have no right to question me.” “Either go stand in a corner, or get the hell out of my estate. Now.” A second later, his thoughts crash into me: Lilian. Get mad. Slap her. Scream that you’re my wife. Prove you love me. I need to feel secure. But this time, seeing the smirks on everyone’s faces, I’m just… tired. I take off the diamond ring, the one that marks me as the Don’s wife. “Since there’s no place for me here, let’s get a divorce.” Perfect timing. The hospital is sending me to London for a placement. I leave tomorrow.