Mafia Wedding Dress Novels & Stories

It did not take long for the men to follow suit, slowly, cautiously they began to speak to each other and new friendships were born and a new Mafia family was created. Juliette knew the kind of wedding dress she wanted, she had pictured it in her mind and searched fruitlessly, she had designers falling over themselves to help her but they had nothing she wanted. She wanted a basque-style top that laced down to her hips with a full skirt, it would have lace sleeves but her shoulders would be bare and she was running out of time to find anything remotely like it. She had searched the local shops and talked to designers who showed her what they had made and offered alterations and now she was

He pulled me in for a long and passionate kiss . I am married to a mafia, he unhooked the necklace on his neck, looks like a ring was used as a pendant. He removed the ring then raised my right hand up. He inserted the ring on my finger. I looked majestic, there was a word engraved on it. My love . I was swept by emotion. " It belongs to my mother it was the last piece of her,I could keep to remember her I want you to have it because I know it's safe with you, looking at you I finally accepted that I haven't gotten over my pain and my past

I shook my head; I liked the veil as it was, with the tiara and the beautiful floral embroidery at the end. Ciara took my measurements and asked me to come back for the last fitting the day before my wedding for any adjustments. “For your jewelry, I must let you know there is a traditional necklace you’ll have to wear to the reception, if not the wedding. It is a tradition for the Mafia boss’s wife to wear it.” she explained, and I nod. The realization of the wedding happening in a few days sinking in. “I had asked Lorenzo what he wanted for the wedding, but he did not say anything. So darling, is there anything you would like the wedding planner to add?” Mama asked, and I frowned.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for someone to say that.” She leaned closer, conspiratorial. “Mafia weddings are suffocatingly predictable. Same silhouettes. Same symbolism. Same purity narrative, Same white dresses.” She scoffed. “It’s exhausting.” I nodded. “Then you’ll like what I want.” She straightened, notebook ready. “Tell me.” “I want a princess gown,” I said. “Jet black.” Her pen stopped. “Go on.” “Inbuilt corset. Structured. Black gems either, onyx or obsidian, worked into it.”

A message from Amelia popped; last chance to back out before it's too late. I exhaled, with a little smile as I turned the screen face-down. My mind had already been made up before now. The event tonight was an auction. A themed fundraising display of priceless artifacts, attended by people wearing glittering gowns pretending to care about history while secretly bidding on things they shouldn't even own. My dress was simple but stunning, red silk and sleeveless with a slit that was from my knee downwards. I wasn't here to impress anyone but to work. Even though I needed to blend in, the dress did the trick, Elegant, stand out and eye-catching without begging for attention.

She wanted so much for her daughter and this marriage had been the biggest obstacle to her daughter’s future. Now that the obstacles were out of the picture, She felt so glad and happy that Mia had agreed to Marry the Illegitimate son of the Edward family, she always had it in mind that the two fitted perfectly, They were both outcast of both families. ………………..,,..,,,,,,,,,, A few days later Mia arrived at a church, wearing a simple white dress. She was getting married today. She didn’t bother renting a wedding dress, because she didn’t want to pay for it. She had a lot of things to do with money.

Vultures perfumed with Chanel. She wore black—not out of mourning, but as a warning. The dress hugged her frame like a forged shell, sculpted to intimidate as much as it seduced. Her dark hair had been braided into an intricate crown, woven with tiny pins that gleamed like steel. Her lips, painted in a deep matte crimson, looked like they’d been kissed by the mouth of war. She didn’t blink. Didn’t falter. Every inch of her radiated the truth: she was no longer anyone’s pawn. She was the mafia bride. And she had teeth.

"And wear something that says 'Mafia Queen,' not 'hiding in my room.' My tailor left a garment bag on your dressing table. Use it." I heard his footsteps fade away. I groaned, rubbing my eyes. My body felt heavy from the stress of the previous night. I had spent hours trying to find a backdoor into my frozen accounts, but my father’s firewall was a masterpiece. That cruel man. He hadn't just blocked me; he had set a trap. If I tried to force my way in again, a signal would be sent directly to the Moretti security team. I walked over to the dressing table and unzipped the garment bag. Inside was a dress that almost looked like it was owned by Katherine Pierce of TVD. The dress was deep navy b

The engagement gala for the union of the Alexander and Camorra families. Alexander ordered me to attend as a server. To pour wine for Sophia. That night, I didn't wear a maid's uniform. I wore a deep V-neck red dress. I had bought it with the commission money I had saved for years. I looked like a poppy blooming on the edge of a cliff—dangerous and mesmerizing. Tray in hand, I wove through the crowd of Mafia royalty, stepping closer and closer to the perfect couple on the dais. Sophia clung to Alexander’s arm, beaming with triumph. When she saw me approach, her eyes glittered with malice. "Ivy. Pour the wine. Do it on your knees."

“Now that my Ana’s out of the bag, there’s no reason for you not to be my date, after you showed everyone in the mafia world yourself, mafia men gossip like old women.” Date? Excitement filled me. Then reality struck in. “It’s not just a wedding. It’s a bravta wedding. If anyone found out what I am”—an escort—“they’d consider it beneath you.” And how would I behave at a wedding—when the last one I’d been to was for high society I don't know how a mafia wedding was. He pulled out two wristwatches choosing which one to wear, setting the other one aside diligently. “What you are? You’re a beautiful, intelligent young woman.”