Lovesick Fool Mafia Short Stories & Novels

My adopted brother, the powerful Mafia heir Knox, had one strict rule. He despised every woman who tried to climb into his bed. And I was the only woman by his side who hadn't been chased away. That was until a family dinner, when someone exposed the secret I had guarded for years in front of everyone. "Do you know that your most trusted, sweet little sister completely lusting after your body?!" The entire room went dead silent. I lowered my eyes, waiting for the inevitable abandonment. But the next second, Knox pulled me into his arms with a playful smirk. "So what if I know? We're soulmates." It turned out he had known about my secret crush all along, yet he just watched me make a fool of myself. I was too tired to play his game anymore. I turned around and accepted a marriage proposal from another man. But on the night of my engagement, that usually aloof heir kicked my bedroom door open, his eyes red with fury. Watching him completely lose his mind, I just stood to the side and let out a soft laugh. A master hunter never strikes first. She only needs to act like the prey.

I married my Don husband, Ethan Solas, because of a family arrangement. What he didn’t know was that I’d harbored a long crush on him. He, on the other hand, had never sparked any interest in me. Today marked our third anniversary. After our usual, mechanical lovemaking, Ethan rolled onto his back, leaving me staring at the ceiling. He always treated it like a duty, nothing more. Then a sudden, intrusive voice pierced my mind: “Did Vivian reach her climax? Did I do well? Is it too soon for a second round? Am I desperate? She smells so good…I just want to devour her.” I froze, eyes turned and locked on Ethan’s bare back. Had I imagined it? Or had my icy, distant husband just confessed his wild, obsessive desire for me?

I went through hell for a man I met on an underground forum. I traded my thick-rimmed glasses for laser eye surgery, wore painful wire braces for two years, and endured agonizing laser treatments for my acne. A posture coach beat a graceful walk into me with a riding crop. I clawed my way from being the Pierce family's "four-eyed ugly duckling," the girl nobody looked at twice, and became someone who turned heads. But the night before we were supposed to meet, I scrolled past a post on another dark web forum. "Selling my internet girlfriend for cheap. We're meeting soon." "Been together over a year. Sweet voice, soft personality, great emotional support. DM if interested." Someone commented to ask why he was dumping such a perfect girl. The original poster replied: "I paid a hacker to get her address and pull surveillance footage. She's some hideous hillbilly with a mouth full of metal. The sight of her made me sick." The comment section erupted in jeers: "I was going to buy her for some fun, but I lost my appetite the second I saw that picture. What an ugly country bumpkin with a mouth full of braces." "Who would want this kind of trash? She's all yours, hahaha." Scrolling to the very bottom, only one ID had replied with two words: "DM me." I tapped on the original poster's avatar and zoomed in. The black cat silhouette was identical to my online boyfriend's profile picture. The post was dated three months ago.

Julian is my twin brother. I rule the Greek scene at our Ivy League. We use different last names. Because of that, rumors fly. People think he’s just my pathetic lapdog. They think he bows to my red-bottom heels. His cold, lethal partner, Silas, finally had enough. He pinned Julian against a wall. He growled. "Do you really have to be that woman’s personal pet?" My brother just looked dazed. "She’s actually really sweet to me in private." Silas casually wiped the blood off his knuckles. He just came from crippling a guy at an underground fight club. He scoffed. "Just wait. Give me a month. I’ll rip that Black Widow’s mask right off." A month later, I had two lethal beasts willingly groveling at my feet. This time, it was my brother who grabbed Silas by the collar. Julian was losing his mind. "Are you out of your fucking mind?" Silas slowly buttoned his shirt. He carefully covered the bite mark of submission on his collarbone. His eyes were dead calm. "I think you’re heavily biased against her."

Eight years ago, she sent the most dangerous man in New York to prison. Eight years later, he sat in a Cadillac parked by the Brooklyn Bridge, a cold smile on his face as he said, “A woman like you deserves to be alone.” No one knew she was sick with Alzheimer’s. It had gotten so bad that she could not even remember the way home. Yet, she remembered his face. She remembered every word he had ever said to her. She even remembered the star named “Christine.” On the first page of her diary, the same sentence was written over and over again. “Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world. No matter who I forget, I must never forget Vincent Medici.” She waited for him for eight years, but in the end, what she got was his indifference, news of his wedding, and him saying to her that someone like her did not deserve to be loved. She didn’t argue. Instead, on the last page of her diary, she quietly wrote, “That’s okay. I’m going to be with my mom now.” Amidst the five thousand streets in New York, he never found her again after that.

For an entire year, I'd been in an online relationship with a guy named Gravano. We were deep in the honeymoon phase—every night, his messages would light up my phone like clockwork, sending my pulse racing and my cheeks burning. [Thinking about you, baby.] [Had another dream about you last night. You were on top of me, begging for more.] [Promise me we'll never be apart. Okay?] I was about to suggest we finally meet in person. Then he sent me a picture—and the man in it was my boss. The most notorious playboy in the entire city. I decided to break it off, convinced he'd been playing me for a fool. But just days after I sent Gravano my breakup text, a man who looked exactly like my boss cornered me against the wall and asked, his voice low and dangerous— "Didn't we promise each other... forever?"

My father died saving Conrad Nelson, the Don of the Nelson family. Conrad took me in to repay that debt and raised me alongside the three most promising boys in the family. From then on, I was the family's little princess. Those three boys would give me anything I asked for. I loved afternoon tea at the Ritz, so they chartered a private flight just to take me there. To make me smile, they spent three million dollars on a fireworks show. They swore they would protect me with their lives, and I trusted them with everything I had. I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with one of them. Then, during a gang war, they saved Serena Blake, a street flower seller caught in the crossfire. She barely had to do anything. Every day, she brought them a bouquet and a few soft, caring words. Two weeks later, Eli Warren scolded me for the first time. He called me spoiled because I'd thrown out the flowers Serena sent. The other two immediately defended me. "Violet's allergic to pollen! How can you hold that against her?" Eli was Conrad's most trusted advisor, the one who always thought everything through. It was the first time he'd ever taken a side against me. The next day, I walked in on Serena dressing Tristan Cole's wounds. Tristan ran security for the family. He was usually cold and ruthless, but now that hard edge was gone. He sat there and let Serena tend to him. In tears, I went to Christian Hayes, the family heir. He held me tight. "Violet, I'll always be here for you." But on my 18th birthday, Christian got a text from Serena. She said someone was harassing her. He left me without a second thought and ran off to save her. That was the last straw. I went and knocked on the door of Conrad's study. "Don, I'm ready to marry the man in Italy."

My online boyfriend was ridiculously clingy. Every single night, he insisted on phone calls. He needed the sound of my voice just to fall asleep. It was way past midnight. Hearing his low, heavy panting through my phone made my face burn and my heart race. "Keep it down," I whispered into the mic. "My roommate is right next door." My roommate was a total mystery. I had no idea what he actually did for a living, but he was loaded—and terrifying. I definitely didn't want to piss him off. Then, floating right before my eyes, glowing text boxes suddenly flashed into thin air: [Does she really not know? The guy next door IS her online boyfriend! It's Matteo, the mafia don!] [Matteo holds massive grudges. If he finds out she's just a paid stand-in chatting for someone else, he'll blow her head off!] [Such a shame. This whole story turns into a total angst-fest later. Otherwise, I'd high-key ship them!] Mafia don? Online boyfriend? And how on earth do these floating texts know I'm chatting on someone else's behalf?! Busted. Panic surged through me. I slammed the end button. I bolted into the hallway, desperate to splash cold water on my face in the bathroom to get a grip. But as I hurried past, a raspy, shaking murmur seeped through the steamy crack of the shower door. "Baby... why'd you hang up on me?"

I was super clingy, always trailing after my boyfriend, Nate, like a lost puppy, constantly craving more of his attention. Tonight as I snuggled in his arms, pressing soft kisses to his lips as usual, I suddenly saw translucent comments fleshing across my vision, one after another. "Hasn't she noticed our Nate, the male lead, is trying his best to avoid her?" "Nate hates physical contact, especially with her. She can't seriously think he's with her because he loves her, right?” "Relax. Nate's true love, the heroine, is about to appear. Once she does, he's going to dump this stupid bitch so hard." My heart skipped a beat. The next second, I pulled away from Nate's chest. Nate glanced down at me. Something that looked suspiciously like irritation flickered across his face. “What’s wrong?" he asked.