Escaping My Mafia Husband Novels & Stories

Jasmine noticed that Kiara’s attention was drifting. She took the opportunity, grabbed Kiara’s leg, and made her fall. Jasmine hadn’t received any combat training, but she knew how to act smartly. As Kiara fell, Jasmine grabbed the pistol from her hand. “You… you can’t kill me!” Kiara warned her in fear. Jasmine rebuked her, “When you can think of ending my world, then I can take your life too. I am now the wife of Mafia King Eric Varghese.”

His father calmly wiped his hand and made deep eye contact with him. "Kennard, if you marry her, I will give you the Title of Mafia King and command of our Mafia Gang in your hands." Mr. Davis put the spoon back and faced his son, who was taken aback. Meanwhile, Kennard processed his words and felt foolish and betrayed. "DAD!! I did everything to give my best to the company and Gang but not for this shit." He pointed at her with burning eyes. Madeline's eyes shot wide at him as she couldn't take these insults anymore. She banged the table with the same intensity as him and returned the same intense glare to him for the first time.

"Is he dead? Is my father dead?" "No. He was taken and will be returned after you wed Fabian Belucci." "Who took my daddy?" My tears spilled. She wiped them with her thumbs. "Tell me! Let's go to the police! Why are we not going to the police?" "Mija, these people own the police. Your father was taken by the Mafia." Dio! Chris and Frank were right. I am a Mafia bride! "They came in the middle of the night... a dozen armed men. They beat up anyone who got in the way and took Giovanni. I don't know whether you understand this mija but you are a Mafia Bride. You can't run away from it. The only way out is if we all die. If that happens, we will be free but everything we own goes back to the Maf

My mafia husband, Vincent Santoro, was born a monster, incapable of loving anyone. But one day, I discovered he was hiding a ‘forbidden fruit’. A girl from the slums, Claire Murphy. Scarred by life, yet as beautiful as a wildflower growing through concrete. For a man who'd waded through blood his whole life, she was a fatal attraction he never saw coming. He thought he'd covered his tracks. He was wrong. At the Santoro family's annual dinner, I confronted him about Claire, tears streaking down my face.

I asked back. I saw him gulp visibly. It was not apparent and flashy, but I saw it clear as day. If anyone else were in my place, they would not have noticed it, but I did. My husband was the son of a mafia leader. He was used to not showing his weakness, his expressions. Not showing his feelings on his face was an art that was embedded in his soul since he had stepped inside the business with his father.

I twisted and turned in my bed feeling restless because I couldn't sleep not after what happened today. I have to do something, but I definitely can't escape, at least not right now. I can't even connect with Eva since today's event. I shivered at the thought of what must be happening at her house because her husband is one of the fierce mafia of New York City who won't think for a second before slaughtering anyone, but she's an exception to that. She is his wife.

“Father was weak, vulnerable. That must have been when that son of a bitch started conniving.” l paid attention to his words, searching for a part that suggested that he was lying. Such was our family, trust wasn't exactly a thing, but manipulation was. “You still haven't told me how you escaped.” He let out an audible breath. “I was out of town, closing a deal with the Martinez's Widow. I left the mansion with some of the men, before I got back…” his words trailed off as his lips trembled slightly. An act, or genuine pain? I wondered.

The underworld of Chicago’s Italian power was alive again, breathing, plotting. And then she heard it. A laugh. Female. Familiar in a way that sent her pulse skittering. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, her eyes found her husband first. Adriano stood near the fireplace, a drink in hand, that cold composure etched into every angle of his face. But beside him— She froze. The woman was tall, elegant, with dark auburn hair cascading down her back and lips curved in a smile too perfect, too knowing.

"Oh, Georgina, you married a mafia man. They will force you, but you have to give in. It’s better to just give into what they want-” “What? No! He didn't force me. It was consensual—whatever happened," I explain, trying to comprehend his point. "Okay, good. So he was pleased and not upset, right? Good, we need to make sure that he is always happy with us," he says, holding my hand again, and I feel sick to my stomach. Quickly, I get up from the couch, maintaining distance, trying to understand what is happening in front of my eyes. This has to be a dream.

He is a monster, he kills people and doesn't feel guilty for it. I sat down in the chair near the vanity. I have been here only for an hour and I have already seen a dead person, who was shot by my husband. (Eww. Calling him my husband is disgusting. ) . I try to calm myself and try to forget the incident because if I were to live here my whole life, I should get used to it. It's a part of the package if you marry a person from the mafia. And I can't change my fate, I just have to accept it.