Mafia Romance Read Online Novels & Stories

Alessia slid into the plush leather seat, her heart racing. As the car pulled away from the curb, Alessia's mind whirled with conflicting thoughts. What am I doing? she wondered, her fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of her dress. This isn't just some wealthy businessman. This is the Bratva. The Russian mafia. The realization sent a chill down her spine. She'd heard whispers about the Bratva's activities in the city - extortion, drug dealing, even human trafficking. And now she was willingly walking into their world.

As he stretched out on the soft couch, he breathed out deeply and sent a cloud of fragrant smoke into the air. Logan Castillejo is a well-known member of the Foedus Corp, which is a well-known mafia group. Taking people's lives is a job that he does with ease and grace. Logan was born into a wealthy and politically influential family, so he grew up with a lot of money and comfort. He quickly and easily gets what he wants. Logan always gets what he wants, no questions asked. The way he lives his life is based on this philosophy. He is an only child, so everything comes to him easily and he lives a very comfortable life.

He extended his arm while showing the red mark from her hit. Clara rolled her eyes, "Can you be a little more serious? Something bad is happening, and you're still worried about your reddened arm?" "Come on, the mission is well planned, and I know exactly what to do there. I won't attack Liam and his troops in Canada. In fact, I'm not tasked with attacking ElWagner's headquarters because Rafael has arranged a team from a mafia network led by Mikael Williams." "Who is Mikael Williams?" Clara furrowed her brow upon encountering another unfamiliar name in Lucas's story.

Chapter 25 Julianna’s Pov:- Who is he? I stared at him with curious eyes while they both were climbing the stairs; this Lorenzo guy is creepy. He gives a serious dominant vibe and looks like a dangerous man. The kind of man people stay away from or don’t mess with. Who is he though? Are Nikolai friends with these kinds of scary people? Of course, he is a Russian mafia don, what do you expect? My subconscious replied. Yeah… “Julia?” Penelope's voice reached my ears,

“ I have more important things to do.” The officiant quickly swallowed. “Of course.” He fumbled and opened his book. “Adrian Moretti, do you take Lucia Romano to be your lawful wife, to stand beside her in prosperity and hardship, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?” “I do.” “And Lucia Romano, do you take Adrian Moretti to be your lawful husband, to love, honor, and cherish him for the rest of your life?” “I do.”

Prologue Anastasia Olivia, Scarlett, and I swayed to the music in the Russian Orchid, laughing and carefree. This nightclub in Moscow was a must, according to tips Scarlett received. It has been the best summer ever; it would stay with us forever. I couldn’t remember the last time all three of us felt so happy and relaxed. We were having the time of our lives. Our last hurrah before life would take us all away and back to reality. There was a young Russian singer on the stage singing, and even though we couldn’t understand a single word, the beat drove our bodies as we danced.

But Mikhail didn’t look away from her. “You know my name now,” she whispered. He tilted his head. “I knew it the first night you walked in.” Her eyes widened. “What?” “Isabella Moretti,” he said. His voice dropped lower and rougher. “Daughter of Carlo Moretti. The girl who ran from the Rossi wedding. The girl whose father sold her to pay his debts.” She felt the floor tilt under her feet and he stepped even closer. His body blocked the whole doorway now. “You walked into my casino. You took my job. You looked me in the eye when everyone else looked away. And now you saw what I do to people who betray me.”

The rain had returned by evening, drumming softly against the windows of Nina’s apartment. The streets glistened with neon reflections, the city alive with sounds of life and danger that coexisted without apology. Nina stood by her window, wrapped in a cardigan that did little to ward off the chill, staring down at the streets below. Her mind raced, replaying every detail from the last night. Marco Leone had disappeared into that building, Dante had been there in the shadows, watching her, guiding her silently, and every step had felt like a delicate balance between survival and ruin.

The club was only dimly lit, the air thick with the reek of alcohol and despair. It was the kind where handshakes sealed deals and were broken by gunfire. I sat in the quiet booth, whiskey in front of me, back to the wall. I waited. For her. Fiorella D'Angelo. The so-called queen of her father's empire. I'd spent the day wondering whether she'd be even remotely the woman people described. The mafia had a reputation for exaggeration, making men monsters, women mythical legends that people couldn't even touch. Most of the time, that's just what they were, exaggerated tales.

Mikhail rose, his posture immaculate, eyes sweeping over the congregation. Thunderous applause erupted, filling the hall with a deafening roar. Mikhail’s expression remained stoic, but a flicker of pride crossed his features. He turned to face the crowd, voice echoing and commanding every corner of the hall. "It is now official. I, Mikhail Morozov, am the Pakhan of the Bratva's empire, and my beautiful wife beside me is my Pakhanesa, the first ever Bratva female leader in our history." The crowd’s applause swelled again, louder this time, almost like the walls themselves were cheering. Donatella smiled, radiant in a crimson gown that flowed like liquid fire, her hair styled perfectly — regal