Romance Books With Russian Mafia Novels & Stories

Alessia slid into the plush leather seat, her heart racing. As the car pulled away from the curb, Alessia's mind whirled with conflicting thoughts. What am I doing? she wondered, her fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of her dress. This isn't just some wealthy businessman. This is the Bratva. The Russian mafia. The realization sent a chill down her spine. She'd heard whispers about the Bratva's activities in the city - extortion, drug dealing, even human trafficking. And now she was willingly walking into their world.

I didn’t wait for what would come next. I had turned and bolted, my feet barely touching the marble floor as I ran to my room, locking the door like that would somehow keep him and my feelings for him out. The silence in the room was deafening with reality of the truth and my foolish actions, sinking in. Sasha Romanov. He is the pakhan of the Russian Bratva....such a dangerous man to be with. My gut told me that there was something dangerous about him but this is another level of dangerous....

When you leave your heart behind" Libro 2 Mi Corazon te pertenece - Book 2 My Heart will be yours Power & Temptation Mafia Series (Buenovela) (Goodnovel) Libro 1 Mafia Italiana - Book 1 Italian Mafia A****N KINDLE luna indomable spanish version Power & Temptation Mafia Series Book 2 "IVANOV" Russian Mafia Individual stories (Buenovela) (Goodnovel)

"Stormed in, insulted your father, insulted me, and then announced you'd make my life hell. You don't strike me as someone content to play the part of a quiet, dutiful wife. But I wonder, are you all bark?" I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. "Trust me, my bite is plenty sharp," I say, the words spat like poison. "And I have absolutely no intention of being your wife." "Trust me,printsessa, I gathered that." He chuckles. The way he says it, printsessa, soft and sardonic, makes the Russian endearment scrape against my ears like a rusty key. I lean forward, resting my forearms on my thighs.

He cages me in place, his scent consuming my senses. I was quickly realizing that the attraction I felt for Nikolai was a dangerous thing. Each time I was in his presence, it felt like someone had tied a live wire between us, and every time we touched, I could feel the sparks shoot up my spine. Come to your senses. I begged myself. Nikolai wasn’t an ordinary man. He was the head of the Russian mafia and my father’s possible martyr. Nothing about him should be attractive to me. He says something in Russian and I narrow my eyes, wondering why his gaze looked harsher as he spoke.

That was the way of galas like this: beautiful lies wrapped in gold. My father’s hand rested lightly at the small of my back, a possessive, protective touch he never quite realized he still gave me. Ivan Volkov—Russian mafia boss, king of shadows, the man whose name made grown men swallow hard—smiled like a proud parent as cameras flashed and heads turned. “Smile, solnyshko,” he murmured in Russian. “Tonight, we enjoy ourselves.” I did smile. For him. For my mother. For the illusion.

And that's all that mattered even if she was cursing me. . ____ A. Gupta Check out my completed books: Mafia Romance with dark, DARK Heroes: Bride to Be, CAGED, Twisted Marriage!! And another sweet, angsty, steamy book duo: His Broken Princess and His Steel Princess!!

Amy was rendered speechless; how did Antonio know all of this? She takes a step back from him and holds her hand up in surprise, “Crime lord? What, like the Russian mafia or something?” she asks with a frown and a flicker of something flashed in his eyes when she said the word ‘mafia’. He nods slowly, “That’s exactly what the Bratva is and now Dimitri has staked his claim on you.”

As the flame settled leaving coal behind, I moved away and headed back to my beautiful dream. *** Russia Ricardo Romanoff sat unfazed as the Don of Russian mafia chocked the messenger with his leather belt. The messenger coughed trying to breathe but it became impossible when charcoal of burnt letter was thrust back in his mouth. His saliva flew out every time he coughed wearily. His face turned red and legs kicked in the air, struggling to breathe as lungs were at the verge of collapsing. Volkov was driven mad because of defeat. The Don of Italian Mafia was becoming the reason for his fall once again.

A betrayal I hadn’t decided on. I said nothing. Just stepped back, fingers trembling as I reached for a book, anything to ground myself. Misha reached for the same one. His fingers brushed mine again, slower this time. Deliberate. Then his hand brushed against my hip, casual, almost careless, but it set me on fire. “This one,” he said. A Pushkin collection. His voice softened. “Stepan’s favorite. It’s the only one that still gets to me.” His eyes locked on mine. And I shattered. My heart pounding like I’d run a marathon barefoot through snow.