Married To The Russian Mafia Boss Novels & Stories

Looks: 5’7, White, brown round eyes, wrinkles, brown short hair always on a ponytail, slim. Family: Raphael Lockwood (boss, like a son) / Robert Smith (husband) / Isbella (Tammy) Smith (daughter) Friends: N/A Romeo Karkov (62) Job: Leader of the Russian mafia Raphael’s biggest enemy Personality: despicable, unfaithful, rude, dangerous, womaniser, disrespectful Looks: 5’7, White greasy hair, Fat, wrinkles, with uneven teeth. Scar on the right side of his face, green eyes.

My eyes trailed down his body, his chest was bare, His well-sculpted chest, trained abs, and packs were a pleasant sight to behold not that it was my first time seeing him without a shirt or like I was yearning to see him naked, the honest truth is I never get enough of him, I don't think I will, he's everything a woman can ask for and sometimes I feel like I don't deserve him, but then he is mine, he may not have told me he loved me verbally but his actions show it, his body language, his thoughtfulness towards me, his loving gaze and gifts, the quality time he has been spending with me deepens my love for him each day. It feels like a fantasy sometimes but it's fucking real, I bagged a Maf

The price for the protection offered by the powerful family was higher than I had initially imagined. I closed my eyes, resigned. It was a marriage devoid of love, and I hoped to unite with the older brother of Paul Mitchell, a disgusting man on the verge of sixty; I would be his second wife, as the first one died under inexplicable circumstances that no one can explain. However, to my surprise, my heart raced when Paul Mitchell's youngest son entered my living room. I could feel my legs weaken in his presence, his defined muscles, blond hair, and light brown eyes. A cross tattoo adorned his neck, and his smile was charming.

I sat on the couch, thread in hand, and realized I had nothing to repair. The knock came at 9:47 PM. I checked the peephole without thinking. A woman stood in the hallway—gray coat, green-gray eyes, sunglasses pushed into blonde hair. The woman from the bakery. The woman who'd cut the line, who'd looked at me like furniture she was deciding whether to keep. She smiled. Sharp. Beautiful. Terrible. "Darling," she said, her voice carrying intensity, like she already owned the space I'm in. "I heard Alexander got married. Again." A pause. The smile widened, showing teeth. "I simply had to meet the replacement."

IVANA’S POV PRESENT DAY Igor Orlov. Dare I say he is one of the reasons I came to Russia? A well-known country, filled with Mafia lords, cartels, clans of all sorts, that even the government doesn't have a say in their activities. He is the retired Bratva of Vipers Clan. My mother's new husband. It was funny how things happened so fast that I was barely able to wrap my head around it. Within a few months of meeting each other at business meetings, they began to date and then two months later, they were married.

The dress, well, it wasn’t the one I would have chosen, but it exuded the wealth and power that I was about to marry into. But no amount of perfection could hide the ugly, horrific truth. This marriage was a lie. And I was a captive bride in all but name. It had all started when I was trying to help my best friend Ilsa, a detective with the LAPD, and her husband Roman, don of the Marchetti Mafia, save a young Russian girl—Sveta Orlov—who had been ripped from her family at the expense of her maniacal father. Since I was the only one that Ilsa knew who spoke Russian, they had brought her to me, and I had helped concoct a foolproof plan.

I'd sit in a chair by the fire, staring at the flames crackling, trying to make sense of it, but my thoughts just jumped around. Apparently, the boyfriend that Lara wouldn't tell us about back home was now her husband. She got married to him, and that's why she kept it secret. She knew we wouldn't like it, and wouldn't support her moving so far away from the family, from everything we knew. The distance was huge. She said if she had told us who he was back then, we would've freaked out even more. His name was Vakrez, and he was part of the Russian mafia. A real mafia guy, running things in this part of the world. If she'd told us back then, she was right, none of us would've let her go throu

I tell him, flashing a smile at the onlookers as we swayed to the music. "They are looking for some action, you know. We are supposed to be happily married, mia moglie." The accents rolls off of his tongue as he calls me 'my wife' and directly tickles me in the core. We are going to have a problem if his accent turns me on when it appears only when he lies. "Everyone in the high society knows how arranged and business marriages work." I roll my eyes. "Trust me, these people cannot wait to have the cake and go home and gossip about how Paige Mathewson, the crazy bitch, ended up with this catch." I nod in his direction.

YOU'RE AMAZING ••Luciana•• My hand moved instinctively, without thought or hesitation. It all happened so fast, one moment I was standing there, staring at Roman, and the next my hand was striking his face. I froze immediately, the weight of what I had just done hitting me like a ton of bricks. I had just slapped Roman, the heir to the Russian Bratva, the soon-to-be boss of the Russian mafia, the silent prince, the man I married. My husband.