My Husband Is Mafia Boss Novels & Stories

"Oh, okay. So, is my husband a crime lord now or something?" I chuckled, grabbing her waist. Her belly poked my stomach, and I smiled. "No, baby. Not a crime lord, but a powerful man. And you know I wouldn't do anything stupid. It's just Massimo. It's his family's business. His father was a Mafia don and it was passed down unto him as the first son. He's not the typical Mafia boss, he's very nice and a gentleman." "That's cool. Maybe one day, I'll get used to seeing him and not be scared. So, I'll get started on dinner. I'm going to ask the maids to make the table and get some decorations."

He asked me. "No, my husband is not a coward. He is Roman Atono, the leader of Russia mafia along with my dad. I insisted that I come in first since I am part of the deal." I told him who my husband is. "I love the way you hyped him. I hope he worths it." He said. "He worths more than it. But this isn't a moment of personal discussion." I shrugged my shoulders. "Fine, let him in." He commanded.

“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.

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 said the same thing last time, but now what? You want to steal my husband, right? I'll give you a special gift, hope you like it." As soon as he finished speaking, Jack's wife pulled a bunch of reporters waiting outside. She gave orders to them. "Take all her lewd pictures, put it in the newspaper tomorrow with the content. This is a whore who steals other people's husbands." As soon as she finished her sentence, Jack knelt down begging his wife. His voice was very pitiful, he said. "The company's stock will drop if this news spreads. You can not do that." Jack's wife felt his request was ridiculous. She pointed at Millianna's face and then looked at her husband. Her voice was a bit sar

She was about to cross the line from being tipsy to being really fucking wasted. "You're a bad man," she pouted. "How so?" I leaned forward, actually curious about what she had to say. She closed her eyes, humming. "You're in the mafia. You run the mafia. You kill people. You hurt them. You make money off of their suffering." "It's just a job. Nothing personal. And besides, you're a member of the mafia too." She scoffed. "Only because I'm married to you. My family has never engaged me in their..." she scratched her head, trying to find the words, "...activities. "

A leader expanding his empire into Nevada and the world in large, diversifying investments, playing by the rules of business. No one could have guessed that beneath the perfect suit was the son of a mafia don, his empire built on blood as much as capital. And all the while, his hand never left hers. When he shifted the microphone, when he turned to acknowledge applause, even when he leaned to answer a particularly sharp question, his fingers remained curled around hers. The moment that unsettled her most came near the end. “Mr. Moretti,” one journalist called out, “congratulations on your recent marriage. What advice would you give to younger couples starting out?”

“What’s a pretty woman like you doing alone in a club like this?” I gave him a half-smile, sipped my drink, then leaned back. “I’m not alone. My friend’s here somewhere. And also—I’m married.” He blinked. “Really?” “Yep.” I raised my hand, showing him the simple ring Alessio gave me. “Married to a very dangerous man.” The guy chuckled, clearly amused. “Dangerous, huh?” I narrowed my eyes playfully. “He’s in the Mafia. And he can fight. Like, really well.”

"Yes, of course I will. Thank you for the investment in our company. Hope in the future we will receive more help from you." After the phone call ended, Mr. Otis breathed a sigh of relief. A few days ago, their Lightning company suddenly received a huge investment. The sender is not a businessman or a wealthy investor connected to the entertainment industry, but a mafia boss. With a low mood, Mr. Otis personally contacted Darryl Rider. And the answer he got was. "This is an investment for my wife. I hope you know how to use it."

It felt as if I had been run over by a car, yet in reality, I had merely endured a severe beating from my husband. It took a few seconds to comprehend that I was in a cold, damp place. Slowly opening my eyes, I hoped the sun would shine on my face, but there was no sunlight; nothing illuminated that dirty space. Rising from the cold floor, I walked toward a door on my right. I turned the handle forcefully, attempting to open it, but it remained locked. "What's happening?" I asked myself, recollecting that I had tried to eliminate Los Angeles's most prominent mobster, responsible for the city's primary betting houses, feared by all.