Mafia Husbands Novels & Stories

Zara Howard It all happened so quickly, anyone could barely process how our living room turned into a gangster scene from a movie. A drunkard gambler who borrowed too much money from the Mafia and had nothing to offer except for empty promises when it was pay up time. Only difference was this time the drunkard was my stepfather, Chad Hudson and the Mafia was Asher Lancaster, the powerful mob boss, who brought with him 6-7 terrifying armed men. My mother was tightly gripping onto my arm as she tried to drag me and my older sister, Scarlett farther away from them. My eyes, however, were fixated on the scene unfolding right in front of me.

Third Person Pov: Thomas Allen is one of the most ruthless leaders in the mafia gang Hayden Wren heads. Its known as 'Python'. Recently, there's been a fued between the two, hence; Thomas moved to Dubai. The members of the gang thought things would dissolve over time... but it didn't. Communication seized between the two for the past two years. Now, Thomas is back to set things right.

A smile formed on his lips. “Surprise... it didn’t hurt,” he grinned. Onora’s eyes widened. She tried to run, but he caught her, spun her around, and slammed her against the wall. His grip locked tightly around her wrists, pinning her there. She whimpered. “You punched me, and you must pay.” Pay? “Your husband didn’t tell you? Mafia don’t do free. You can’t punch me for free,” he smirked. Mafia. Her husband was a mafia. She had read many stories about them—dangerous men who manipulated others to get what they wanted.

“Like I said. If your husband didn’t tell you to go down, then maybe they have doctors treating him, and besides, you said it yourself, he’s a Siciliano.” “You didn’t ask why they brought him here, considering he was airlifted from the boat.” She shrugged and pursed her lips. “He’s a mafia. I suppose they have a secret sick bay or something downstairs with a stash of medicines. Or maybe the mafia has medical doctors, too.” The door to the living room swung open. My husband walked in. His features were soft, not even stressed, which was maybe a good sign. “Hey, princess.” He came to me to kiss my forehead. Then took a bottle of water from Quinton and drank it empty.

"Is he in the mafia, too?" "Yes." Massimo quickly snatched his papers from Aria—they weren't anything a civilian needed to see. Aria held up her hands in a placating manner. "Just trying to help, my dear husband. So what did this big bad mafia guy do?" Massimo wasn't in the mood for his wife's questions. "Nothing you need to worry about. I'll have it all taken care of." "That's my big, strong, tough guy," Aria said, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Aren't I so lucky to have you all to myself?"

Ethan Hall and I wrote to each other anonymously for three years. I didn't learn he was the heir to Fog Harbor's most powerful crime family until the day we met. Back then, everyone said an orphan with no connections, who made her living sketching designs, would never be more than a passing fling to him. But Ethan took my hand in front of the reporters. "Unless Nora tells me herself that she doesn't love me anymore, nothing is ever going to split us up." Later, we married. He waited outside the delivery room all night while I gave birth. When our daughter, Robin, fell seriously ill, he visited every church in the harbor district and knelt until his knees were too swollen for him to walk. I t

Elena replied, her voice firm. Dante looked out at the sea. They were safe, for now. But the Moretti name was a ghost that didn't stay buried. News had reached them that the Rossi family was looking for the "lost heir." The war wasn't over; it had just moved to a different shore. "I’m going into town," Dante said, checking the weight of the pistol tucked into his waistband. "Stay inside. Lock the doors." Elena watched him walk away, the same predatory grace in his step. She looked down at her son and felt a familiar, cold shiver. The secret was out, the husband was dead, and the lover was a fugitive.

The vase shattered against his temple, blood trickling down his face. Wiping the blood away, he raised his hand to swear: “Eva, if I break my vow, let me die under the gun of the enemy, leave no bones behind!” His sincerity moved me. That was when I finally agreed to be with him. He really wasn’t afraid of death. Dad paused. “I’ll contact Vincent immediately.” Vincent, managing the mafia empire in Sicily, was not easy to reach. I showed Dad a message on my phone. “The engagement contract is binding, and Vincent has spoken. The marriage won’t be canceled. Just wait until he returns to New York to finalize the details.”

I had already begun to notice the way people and things moved around him. “No…” I repeated, but this time, my words sounded weaker and far more uncertain, Uncertain. Cassian watched it happen and smiled as he saw my doubt take root. “Everything you see,” he gestured around us, “everything Sylas and my family has, it all comes from this.” I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even think. “The truth is,” Cassian smirked as he took a step towards me, “Your husband, Sylas Gold is a Mafia boss.”

Instead, there was something in his eyes that I'd never seen before, and it looked to me like he was begging and pleading with me instead. He was begging me to go back to him. I looked at him just then, blood now flowing out of his arm to his wrist, and yet, he still wasn't aware of it. He was the mafia Don, now standing in the lobby of this Grandavian hotel and begging his ex-wife to go home with him in full view of everyone else. This was the first time I'd ever seen him like this in my seven years of marriage to him. However, it was too late.