Captive Of My Mafia Crush Novels & Stories

Walking away from her after saving her from the creep at the bar… Because I knew that no good could come out of me intruding in her life. I was Lorenzo Salvatore. The thirty-two year old Capo of the Italian fucking Mafia. And tonight… I let my guard down. I allowed a woman who I never met before, to possess me, rock my world in ways that I never imagined before. She was so different from other women. So different to what I’d had before. I was just about to leave the club with my friend Ricky, but when I walked past the staircase, I’d heard screaming. And it was no mistaking that they were Amber’s screams.

The capo, a man named Giacomo, stammered out the grim details, his words tumbling over each other in a torrent of horror, his usual bravado completely shattered. In contrast to the typically chaotic nature of rival skirmishes, he described a swift, silent assault with surgical precision. He described how cries were suddenly cut off and how defiance was met with unforgiving cruelty. Violet's mind was filled with a graphic, gory image of treachery and excruciating death as a result of the words. Giacomo's voice was raw and hoarse with fear as he rasped, "It was… a massacre," his

she said in a flat tone. “You can’t leave, Arabella…” “I am not your captive. You won’t keep me against my will. I have been a mafia captive once. I will not do it again…” “I am no longer a part of the mafia,” I replied. “You have nothing to worry about.” “I am getting out of here. I don’t care if you disagree or not. I’ll take care of myself from now henceforth. You have no obligations to me…”

I choked out, my vision starting to blur. “Don’t play me for a fool! You were the one who claimed responsibility for her death first! Now you try to shift the blame onto him just because you want him dead? I don’t care what twisted relationship you had with that rat, but do not dare lie to me. I am not an idiot!” “If you want me to believe Kean killed my bride… then let me remind you of your reality,” he hissed, his grip tightening just enough to make me burn. “You are my captive. You are the one marked as my bride’s killer. Your life, your fate, every breath you take… it all belongs to me. Only I decide what happens to you.”

Lia's hands wouldn't stop shaking on the steering wheel. She'd just slept with a mafia boss. A fucking mafia boss. Not some professional escort who'd disappear from her life after one night. Not some safe, anonymous transaction. No. She'd walked into the wrong room and ended up in bed with Caspian Nero. A man who ran the criminal underworld of Silvercrest. What the hell had she done? The early morning streets were empty as she drove home. Saturday dawn, the city still sleeping off Friday night. Lia felt like she was moving through a dream. Or a nightmare. She couldn't tell which. Her body ached in places that reminded her exactly what had happened.

"Now you can imagine what I am capable of doing to you, right? You see, my little Love, I could crush your neck right now, and no one would ever know. I could strip you down and fuck you right here on this bed, and absolutely no one would come to save you." His smirk vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, chilling stone. "So, this is my final warning. Do not test my patience. I am already having a very hard time keeping my cool around you, and you are being fucking impossible. The next time you decide to open your smart mouth, think very carefully about the consequences. Alright?" "Y-yes," I choked out, the tears flowing freely now. "Are... are you in the mafia?" the words tumbled out

Sadly. I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved my face into the cold pillow. My cheeks burned hotter. My brain screamed louder. My lips still felt swollen. And I hated it. I hated how the mind I swore was full of escape routes and backdoors was instead playing a highlight reel of Zach’s hands gripping my waist, his thighs flexing beneath me, his breath burning across my jaw like a fuse about to blow. I groaned into the pillow. “Brilliant, Krystal. Just great. You’re trapped in a mafia villa. No phone. No cash. Your only savings is a goddamn bar of Belgian chocolate. And what are you thinking about? Don Romano’s stupid, sinful size.”

She replied sarcastically, a smirk creeping up her face. “I don’t try to dig too deep into the lowlifes in the Mafia,” I sneered, my devilish smile spreading. “You know he’s trying to climb the ranks by selling you to me.” “Who are the lowlifes? You crazy bastard!” she cursed, her fist clenched with fury.

My Mama screamed when She came in and set sight on it for the first time, something about wanting to give my father a heart attack? “I love it. I want to be me,” I took a final look at my face in the mirror, hating how pale my lips looked. I grabbed a dark red lipstick, running it over my pout while Mama gave me the breakdown of the people who were at church already. The Mafia, as insane as they were, did not slack when it comes to church activities. As I child, I took regular mass, a lot of confessions and lots more. Made men came to church every Sunday with their wives, flaunting their fake love for Gucci and their horrible choking smell of black opium. Silvia says they are speaking attent

“If I drop dead, she goes down with me too. And we both know you don’t have the heart to watch that happen.” Vincent didn’t move but Santiago just laughed, low and bitter, cutting through the heavy silence. “You can pretend to be heartless, Vincent,” he hissed, “but deep down? You’re just another fool who made the mistake of having a heart.” He sneered, disgust twisting his face. “You know what happens to men like you in the mafia, brother. You know how deadly it is to love. And yet…” He yanked me roughly, forcing me to stumble back with him. “You went and gave your heart to someone so worthless. So pathetic.”