Romance Books With Russian Mafia Novels & Stories

“You walked into my casino. You took my job. You looked me in the eye when everyone else looked away. And now you saw what I do to people who betray me.” Her breath came fast and shallow and Mikhail lifted his hand again. This time he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her skin and left a tiny smear of blood. “You just signed your own death warrant…” he growled, his voice was low and lethal. “Or your new life.”

And the secrets Adrian left behind were punishable. “Tatiana, let’s go,” Sasha repeated. Another shuddering breath filled my lungs. Black suits slowly drifted away, taking their black hearts with them. The sea of underworld men came to pay respects. Russian. Italian. American. Canadian. Colombian. A sea of black, which I’d always been a part of. No matter how much my brothers sheltered me. My eyes flickered to my brother, seeing him through the fog of grief. It felt like I wasn’t really here. But then I was.

(The girl who ran from hell) “She thought she was running from her demons. She didn’t know one of them had learned her name.” The story begins… Milan was in her bedroom, reading a steamy Mafia romance novel when noise from downstairs pierced through her subconscious. She flinched as the door slammed closed, dreading the reality that her husband is finally back home from his long business trip. Gripping the hardback in her already trembling hands, she anticipated his yells, demanding where the fuck she was.

She had lost it. With a small huff, Rosa sat back down, flipping through the book again to search slowly this time. That’s when certain words caught her eye. Mafia. Blood. Gun. Knife. Betrayal. Loyalty and many more dark words. Her brows furrowed deeper with each word. What kind of book was this? Rosa let out a soft sigh. Her fingers brushed the leather cover with disappointment. She hadn’t come for this. She only wanted to see the name on that letter. Just the name.

a deep voice commands. I turn. He walks in like he owns the place. Broad shoulders under a tailored black suit, dark eyes that slice through the chaos. His presence is heavier than the gunfire. Dante Morreti. I know that name. Whispers. Mafia. Blood. Power. The devil of New York. His gaze pins me in place. My chest tightens, breath shallow. “She’s the bride?” he asks, almost amused. “Yes, Boss,” one of his men answers. “Pretty little thing,” Dante murmurs, eyes raking me head to toe. “Shame she belongs to a coward.”

Nataliya Since taking over the Barsukov Russian mafia, I have gathered enough blood on my hands to paint the entire town in red. It hasn’t stopped me from killing more, washing this city clean of ever follower my father had allied himself with. Most people in this city know to fear me, to never touch me, even if most of them have no idea who I am. Most people have common sense, and those that don’t know to follow like sheep. I am a predator, a hunter, a cold-hearted killer. I have murdered most of my family in cold blood and even though I have cleansed this city of the evil that was ruling it for generations, I still came out as the villain. Men want to either fuck me, control me, or kill me

“You’re insane.” “You’re the one who’s insane,” he snapped. “You think that man cares about you? You think all those sweet looks mean something? He’s a Mafia boss, Genna. He kills people like us for fun.” “Maybe he’s not as heartless as you think.” Marco’s eyes flared. “Listen to yourself. You sound pathetic. You’re falling for the enemy!” “I’m not falling for anyone,” I said firmly, though my chest tightened at my own words. “I’m just trying to survive.”

And what I know is dangerous. Luca pulled out an envelope filled with photographs. He flipped through them quickly in front of her: familiar and unfamiliar faces, names, places. — These people… they’re the mafia who control the city. But they aren’t alone. They have powerful allies. And they won’t stop at anything. Elena leaned over the photos, feeling her blood boil in her veins. — What do you want me to do? she asked softly. — Be careful. Stay safe. And if you can, help us fight them.

“Who’s that? What the fuck do you want?” I nodded to Marco, who ripped the blindfold off, Ryan’s eyes blinking, wide with terror as they locked on me. “Moretti?” he gasped, his body trembling, his voice breaking. “Why am I here? What do you want?” I smirked, my hands flexing, my Glock resting on a metal table beside knives, pliers, and a baton. “Scared?” I asked, my voice low, mocking. “Not your first time in a mafia’s lair, is it, cousin of Viktor Salazar? Well, I brought you here to teach you—and him—a lesson. You fucked with the wrong man, Ryan. You touched my butterfly.”

Fuck. Papa had wronged the Russian Mafia, better known as the Bratva. Everyone knew they owned Moscow and even the whole of Russia. They had ties to law enforcement, the government, the entertainment industry…everything. "I told you to get in!" The man shouted, making me jump in fear. I was sweating everywhere and my hands were shaking uncontrollably. I didn't wait to be told a third time. The man was getting ready to kill Viktor. He stepped aside to let me in and slammed the door behind me.