My Mobster Girlfriend Novels & Stories

“You really love that word for someone who’s never had to spell it.” His eyes finally met mine. Heat. Ice. Chaos. I swallowed and tried not to combust. “I was curious,” I said. “You never told me why you need a fake girlfriend.” “For a business deal.” I blinked. That was… honest? “What kind of deal?” He smiled lazily. “Curious, are we?” “Yes. I’m literally sitting in a car with a man I barely know, about to have dinner with his billionaire father. I think I deserve a few details.”

He roared at her, and she flinched slightly but still gazed deep into his eyes. "It's useless to tell you the truth because you won't believe it." She responded, rolling her eyes. "What truth?" He inquired, his tone serious as he stared at her darkly. "I was looking for you because I wanted to see you one last time. And you granted my wish," she grinned. "You know, you look even hotter when you're angry." She winked at him. He just stared at her in disbelief and sighed deeply before releasing her. For the first time, a girl was driving him crazy. Deep inside, he knew she was telling the truth, but his mafia instincts kept doubting her because she didn't behave like an ordinary woman.

Alex said. "So we have a deal right?" Alyssa asked and Alex nodded in agreement to her statement then Alex handed over to Alyssa a pen and she signed both her copy of the agreement and Alex's copy too. Alex did the same thing as he signed on his and her copy and both of them exchanged and shook while introducing themselves properly. "Well am Alex Civella by name, one of the most dangerous and respected Mafia in town," Alex said to Alyssa. "And I am Alyssa Harley by name, a former business owner" Alyssa said to Alex as they both looked into each other's eyes and they could both feel the spark in them as they held each other's hands for a while before they let go of each other's hands.

my phone to Jay and say “put in the address of this house so i'll send it to him” “ him?“, they all said at the same time “yeah him” i say distractedly while i turn to the sink to wash their glasses before Jay turns me towards them and ask “him who” “awwn, jealous love, don't worry he's my bestie” “boy bestie” i correct and smile sheepishly when i see the girls glare at me, Jay puts the address and hands me my phone “can't wait to meet him” he says with fake enthusiasm, i smile and peck him “don't worry he won't bite”. I send the address to Adrian and text him to hurry up, he sends my a thumbs up and speed emoji making me smile, i look up and see Jay scowl at me, whats his problem? I smirk

She must have noticed that I was taken aback by her sudden appearance and she threw a question of if her appearance was weird to me. Of course, I wouldn’t want to get into her trap so I replied “You look stunning,” which was actually true. She was absolutely gorgeous. She has always been though, but since she wanted to be more masculine in order to fit her mafia identity, she opted out of the femme fatale category. She was always alert, training, and looking for ways to break into new territories. She made my dreams hers too and never left me to take care of things alone. At times, she can be overprotective but its okay, that's her charm.

she whispered to herself, gripping the edge of her seat as a group of men leaned against a fence nearby, guns slung casually over their shoulders. They watched the car like it was a snack, and her, the main course. One of them licked his lips and yelled, "Browning, yuh look good fi deh inna di car alone! Come here, baby. Come let mi put yuh on a backshot!" (Nice Girl, you look too good to be in that car alone. Come here, baby. Come and let me give you some doggy style.) She ignored him, fingers trembling as she dialed Rupert's number again. Ringing. Then voicemail. Again.

Of course, I am not so petty to ask Pierre to disrespect his superior. "Sure, I'll wait here." Pierre nodded and went out. After a few minutes, I peeked through the tent's door and observed Pierre from a distance out of curiosity. He's talking with a beautiful curvy woman who's about 30. Pierre seems pretty normal, but the woman is staring at Pierre's body and face with lust. I should've asked him to change his tank top, tsk. If I am not mistaken, Greta is supposed to be the Mafia boss' girlfriend, right? Then, why is that leech fancying Pierre?

She just watched him, her throat tight, her emotions in turmoil. The silence was broken by the buzz of her phone. It was on the nightstand—she picked it up without thinking, and when she saw the name on the screen, her blood ran cold. Unknown number. She opened the message. There was a photo. Of her entering the clinic with Stefan by her side, holding hands. And right below, a message: "So now you're someone's whore. Not with me—but with him. How disappointing, kitty. Do you know how many things I could say about him? Want everyone to know who he is? How about I report him to the authorities? Come see me tonight—or I expose your mafia boyfriend."

All too well did I know the car and the man it bespoke. The doors opened as one, and three men spilled out. They moved with deliberate calculation, sans tailored suits or obvious weaponry, yet exuding an aura of threat. It was in their posture-the predatory assurance, the faint, smug smiles-that put my teeth on edge. My opponent. Victor Moretti. What was he doing here of all places? My hold on Lena's hand tightened involuntarily. She gasped, looking up at me with wide, enquiring eyes, but at that moment, I just couldn't afford to give her even a second of my attention. A million and one scenarios flooded my mind, none of them good.

She says something under her breath, which he nods to, and then she stands with her arms folded looking miserable. “Fine,” I say to Vito even though I didn’t hear a fucking word he said. “We’ll do it as you suggested. Call me tomorrow with the details.” I hang up before he has the chance to say anything and I shove my phone in my pocket angrily. I hear a chuckle beside me. It’s Miguel. He has a glass of beer in his hand, and his cheeks are flushed. He’s already somewhat drunk, it seems. He says to me, “Women. It’s tough to understand them, isn’t it?”