Married To The Mafia Don Novels & Stories

My hands balled into fists. Ryan's small voice broke the silence. "Mamma, I'm Papà's child too…" All eyes turned to him at his words. Marcella frowned at us. "Leander's the mafia don in Westrael now. The Beaumont name would be ruined if rumors got out that he fathered an illegitimate child.

He leaned on the table between us and moved his hands across it before taking my hands in his, caressing them. "Baby, I know. But it shouldn't be hard to do that, right? I know what you are capable of, only that you've been a good follower of the law all your life. Now it's time to go on the other side of the law" He says like he was explaining why humans should eat and not about breaking the law. But then again, why am I surprised? My husband is a Mafia Don and me marrying him shouldn't be a lawful matter. "Okay then" I squeezed his hands in response.

In addition, she also couldn't tolerate seeing Luca, her fiance, standing there while his father married his former fiancee. San-Pattrick's Cathedral was packed to the brim with members of the Mafia Famiglias, politicians, businessmen, and members of the press. After all, they were all eager to witness the 45-year-old Don marrying the 25-year-old woman who had almost married his son.

The wedding day arrived. Our wedding was held privately and attended only by immediate family. There was no big party or guests from the mafia circles. Only close family, a few of Nicola's trusted people, and the priest were present. I walked toward the altar feeling nervous. I still found it hard to believe that in just a matter of days, my life had changed from a wife discarded by ex husband to the wife of a Mafia Don. The eyes of those present looked at me with varied expressions. Some seemed curious, others looked doubtful. I could feel their judgment, measuring whether I was worthy to stand beside Nicola Conti.

My 30th birthday. My childhood friend, Jax, told me to meet him at Chicago City Hall. “Wear the custom wedding dress. Bring your ID.” He promised me a surprise I’d never forget. But when I got there, he just casually lifted his cigar to his rich friends. “See? She actually wore the wedding dress. Pay up. The limited-edition Aston Martin is mine.” Then, he turned to me. “Clara. It was a joke. You didn’t take it seriously, did you?” I said nothing. He was so sure of himself. No matter what he did, I was his little shadow. The girl who couldn't live without him. I’d always come crawling back, crying, begging him to marry me. His face, the one I used to love, twisted into a sneer. “If you’re tha

Marinos don't get what they want by asking. "I can't—" It was out before I had it. "I'm married. I got married. So I can't marry Bellini." Four words in and I could hear how thin it was. I kept going anyway, because the alternative was the car downstairs. Bruno's chin came up. "Married," he said. "Married within a day. Who is your husband — him?" He was looking past me. I turned. There was a man standing behind me. Shirt open all the way down. A white square of bandage at his shoulder.

He took every opening he got, until finally the Don of the Vance family looked at him straight, just once. And I stayed at his side, handling the ugly business under the table, keeping him whole through every flash of gunfire and steel. I always thought we were lovers who'd been through hell together, comrades who held each other up. Then yesterday I learned the truth. The childhood sweethearts, the falling for each other young, none of it was real. My name is Hale. An old Sicilian family, generations deep, every last one of us hard as nails. My Family and the Marlowe outfit Adrian had thrown in with had been blood enemies for decades.

Alexander By evening, the story was everywhere. I watched it from my study with the television on mute, the closed captions running across the bottom of the screen while three different channels cycled through the same photographs. The engagement party image that had already been circulating all day. A photograph of my casino that someone had pulled from a stock archive. A school photograph of David that was at least five years old and made him look younger and more sympathetic than he had any right to appear. Billionaire Mafia Don Marries Son's Fiancée.

So many emotions were swirling around in Rose’s mind and heart. Everything was scary and confusing. Finally, she was married, but not to the man she wanted. The whole town was present at her wedding except her own family, her father, her protector, Roger. She was married to the godfather of Dia Lucrii, the leader of a mafia gang.

Everyone was pretty nice to me. There was Mariano's entire family, along with other important people of the mafia. There was Sergio, and his wife. Then, Franco, who was the Capo in Sicily. And Marcellia who was their lawyer. She was really pretty, well into her 50s, but carried herself with so much style and grace and confidence. When I grew old I wanted to be like her. "So, Donna," Sofia, Sergio's wife asked me as we ate dessert. It was a rich, decadent, tiramisu, "How did you meet Don? And how are you liking the mafia life?"