My Mafia Husband And My Best Friend Stole My Novels & Stories

Then she burst out laughing and shook her head. “Oh, girl,” she said. “You are in trouble.” I blinked. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you are in deep, deep trouble.” She pointed at me. “You just slept with your husband’s best friend, you said it was the best you have hand in a long time, and now he is staying in your pack house. You are not just in trouble — you are in a whole mess.” I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because she was right.

On my boyfriend, Cole Anderson’s phone, everyone had a personalized contact name. My best friend, Zoey Collins, was saved as "Zoey-Bear." Me? I was just a plain, nameless ten-digit string of numbers. When I asked him about it, he just reached out and ruffled my hair. "I know your number by heart, babe. I don't need a contact tag to tell me it's you." He chuckled and added, "Besides, your bestie is practically the boss of both of us. If I want a future with you, I've gotta stay on her good side." Zoey backed him up, reassuring me with a gentle nudge. "Don't sweat it, girl. You're the actual girlfriend here. He knows where his heart belongs." I really believed Cole. I thought staying u

"Who did it, Isabella? Give me a name." "It doesn't matter. It's over." "It matters when someone touches what belongs to me." He looked up at her. That intense mafia stare. "In my world, no one touches my things and walks away." "I'm not your thing," she whispered, stubborn. He smiled then. That dangerous, possessive smile. "Are you sure? You're in my house, and don’t forget you accept the contract of being my slave and toy” She had nothing to say. Her heart was beating too fast.

“Here it is, Mrs. Stone. Recognize it?” Amelia stared in shock. “That gun was stolen weeks ago! Miguel even reported it missing! Check your records!” The officer leaned forward, his tone dripping with mockery. “Records? A mafia man doesn’t file police reports. We checked… nothing was ever reported missing.” He gave her a hard stare. “Your husband was a criminal who made billion-dollar deals. Maybe you killed him for the money.” Amelia slammed her cuffed hands on the table, the sound echoing through the cold room. “Are you out of your mind? Do you even know who I am? Amelia Stone. Does that sound broke to you? I’m a billionaire. Why would I need his money?”

I slammed my fists on the steering wheel, the horn blaring out in rage. Veins were popping on my forehead, jaw clenched so tight at the thought of my fucking allies kidnapping Araceli. Shit. This is what the mafia does — these fuckers use wives, mothers, children to bring us to our knees. But Araceli alone is fucking enough to destroy me. I don’t want a single strand of her hair missing. Shit— I will kill the motherfucker and peel off his skin so slowly he’d beg for his own fucking death.

"Not a shred. Just worried. Last time, things with Sofia didn't exactly go as planned. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but she's nothing like us. How certain are you that she'll stay put this time?" Just the thought of her away from me has a growl building in my chest. "She doesn't have a fucking choice. No one ever leaves a mafia marriage. Not without their body in a fucking bag." Dario breaks in. "And will you be able to put her in it?" I jerk my chair back suddenly and bang my hands against the table. "This conversation is over. No one is discussing my wife's death before I have her promised to me in the first place. I'm fucking insulted. Does no one think I can take care of my fucking fa

Way 20: My Husband's Best Friend Chapter 1: The Confession I never planned to cheat on my husband. But Jason had always been there — my husband Mike’s best friend since college. Tall, charming, heavily tattooed, with that effortless bad-boy smile that made my stomach flutter every time he came over. Mike was safe, sweet, and stable. Jason was fire. Tonight, Mike was passed out drunk upstairs after our little house party. Most guests had left, but Jason stayed behind to help clean up. Or at least that’s what we told ourselves.

"No, Jaxon, no. No, I don’t need to call anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that we fought. I don’t want anyone else here to take care of me or to lean on." I moved in closer to him and took his hands in mine. I realized mine were still shaking. "You’re my husband. We are partners. I don’t want to be away from you. And–and if you think being in the mafia again is best for us then let’s do it. We’ll be all in. You’ll be the king and I’ll be your queen." Jaxon stared at me a little dumbfounded. "Are you serious?" he asked, sounding excited.

“ Are you kidding me? I asked. “ Why would I? He said while he stopped chopping and look into my eyes. “ I know I can never be that special woman to someone like you “ I said. “ What makes you think that way? He asked. “ Because you bought me to be your sex slave and I know the only thing pulling you back from turning me to your toy is your injured hand” I said. He step out of the kitchen and comes to me at the counter. He pulled me closer to him. “ Is that what you believe? He asked. “Isn’t that what most of the mafia do? I asked.

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. "