Contracted To The Cold Mafia Billionaire Novels & Stories

She stared at me, waiting for a response. “What question should I answer first?” I joked but Catherine wasn’t in the mood for joking. “Who are you getting married to?” “William Caddel.” There was a long pause where Catherine just stared at me like I had grown two heads. When I didn’t take back my words, her jaw dropped. “No way! William Caddel? The billionaire man you owe twenty-five thousand? That one?” I nodded. “And I don’t owe him anymore.” “What? He forgave your debt because no offense, but you can’t afford that at the moment.”

he states in a cold tone I gulp and I brace myself for the information "I own well I run a mafia and with that, I deal/trade guns and drugs. Every government, every president, king, or Queen out there owes me. All the tax out there that gets collected is my money. My associate in South Africa aka Travis wanted more than just drugs and guns he wanted to deal with Children/ women. He said that he knew people in Nambia who would buy for big bucks but of course, I said no. Then he said he'll trade me his step-sister and he showed me a picture of you. That's why I walked up to you that day at the airport. I thought you both were in it together and then I got to know you and I realized that you kn

They were completely glazed over with pain, his face completely pale in the shadows. He looked down at the blood soaking his shirt, let out a harsh, wet cough, and then looked right at me. "I told you," he whispered, his voice incredibly weak but still laced with that stubborn, arrogant mafia pride. "Nobody touches what's mine." And then, the billionaire king of Wall Street slumped forward and passed out completely cold on the floor of the SUV.

Pure, white-hot fury. How had I survived seven years of this? Seven years of being spoken to like I was the help. Seven years of being ignored, insulted, cheated on—and always expected to smile and shut up because the contract said so. The contract. The damn contract. The golden leash around my neck. I signed it. I knew what I was getting into. But I didn’t know it would feel like this. I didn’t know I’d come to hate him so thoroughly, so deeply, I could barely stand to hear his name in my own mind.

The man took out his briefcase, quickly checking over the notes he had in there. “I’ll buy her for eight million,” he offered. “And please tell the bitch to stop crying.” He rolled his eyes. “Bring that up to ten million, and we have a deal,” I grinned, letting my hand out for him to shake. He nodded in agreement, and shook my hand. I’d sold ten children today. I knew that my partner in the mafia, Damon, had told me he was against human trafficking, but I didn’t give a fuck. I was a heartless prick. I’d do anything for money.

“That’s the price of our silence. Twenty million. Pay it, and you’re free.” Elena shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “I don’t have that kind of money.” Alessio’s lips curled into something cold. “Then you don’t have a choice.” Elena’s breathing turned shallow. “You can’t…” Gabriel leaned close, whispering against her ear. “We can. And we will.” Elena staggered back, her hands trembling. She felt like the walls were closing in. Her world spun. She wanted to scream. “You think this is a game, Elena?” Alessio’s voice was sharper now. “You walked into our world. You signed the contract. You are ours. You don’t just walk away from the mafia.”

“Explain.” “There’s a contract. A professional. Not one of the Zorya’s usual blunt instruments. This one is… elegant. A specialist in making problems disappear without a trace. Suicides, accidents, sudden, tragic illnesses.” Rico’s eyes were hard. “The contract isn’t for Marcus. It’s for your billionaire.” The coffee arrived. Rico ignored it. Sabe’s hand, resting on the table, curled into a fist so tight his knuckles turned white. “Who?” The word was a blade.

Ivyrose’s POV “A year ago it was all over the news how New York was finally Mafia free. The Mafia Dons and all their goons, along with all corrupt government agents were either all put behind bars or killed in the biggest entrapment in history, thanks to the genius of billionaire Christopher Stanford. He made a program that could hack…”

CEO, PLEASE LOVE OUR MUMMY BILLIONAIRE'S SWEETHEART OWNED BY THE MAFIA KING. QUESTION: Would you like the next story to be purely Billionaire or have a touch of Mafia? I'll be reading your comments and responses. Thank you once again. Love you guys. EVW

he said. I picked up the contract, throwing him a side eye. I didn't trust a word he said. I read the contract for loopholes until I finally found it. A dark chuckle slipped past my lips. I slammed the contract down on the table. "I'm not like your silly little henchmen. This contract says I'll be your property for fifteen years. Must have been a nice thought, right? To label me as property of Vittore Martinelli. It says nothing about the old contract being null. I'd still be mafia property hence once again, yours. I'm not naïve. I know the only way out of a mafia is death. I don't need your bogus contract. I'm getting out of here myself," I said my British accent thick.