Russian Mafia Romance Novels & Stories

"It's driving me insane. But we'll leave this for another day. Like you said, they are waiting. Come, Mia Bella.” "I want to hear your story, Nicholas. Please tell me how you wound up knowing him," I said, pointing to Damon, who was laughing at a joke Julio had told. The joke itself wasn't funny, but the reaction of everyone at the table was. Dinner was concluded, and we were simply sitting and sipping wine afterward. "I met him in Russia," Nicholas said. "I didn't understand the situation I was getting myself into. I had fallen in love with a Russian woman who apparently was the daughter of a Mafia leader. It was a messy, shady business, but in the end, Damon and Frank negotiated

I just prayed Viv wasn’t on my bed by the time I got back so I could wallow in my misery alone and re-strategize. ————————————————————————————- I didn’t know what to expect of Mafia wedding, a few guns and grenades and possibly blood was up on the list but nothing prepared me for the beauty i walked into, it felt like I’d been transported to another realm. The men in their expensive tuxedos and the women looking like they all stepped out of a model magazine. Hair lush, skin smooth and dewy, make up well set and dresses surprisingly modest. We were a sharp contrast to them in our skimpy black dress with garter belts hanging out, panty hose and pointy stilettos to match.

A strange man calls her, demanding to meet his ‘son’ and get his ‘wife’ back. The Random stranger is none other than Dmitri Valastro, a deadly Russian mafia boss. Inna doesn't know why Dmitri is playing along with her lie, so she finds herself playing a big role in being a wife to this mysterious man. A fake wife. sneak peak of a chapter Inna Grace. ____ One secret that I learned about Moscow in those two months we have been here was that one needed to be a badass. It was a survival for the fittest, which of course was at my fingertips.

Lena's POV I noticed three days after the midnight sitting room. We were at breakfast — our strange, quiet routine of it, the one that had settled between us without either of us deciding it would. Damian was reading, I was eating, the morning doing its usual thing with the light through the window. He reached across the table for the coffee pot and his sleeve pulled back. Just for a moment. Just enough. A scar ran along the back of his right hand — thick, pale against his skin, the kind that doesn't fade with time because whatever made it went deep enough to mean business. It disappeared beneath his cuff before I could trace its full length.

Yasmine’s chest heaved as Luca forced himself between her thighs, stretching her open with one brutal thrust. She cried out, her palms pressing against his chest, trying to shove him away even as her body clenched around him. “Stop—” she gasped, twisting under him. “I don’t want this.” His mouth curled into a dark smile, his thrusts deep and merciless. “Liar. Your body betrays you, amore. You’re dripping for me.” Her nails dug into his shoulders, desperate to hurt him. “You disgust me, Luca. You’re a murderer.”

"No kidding." He ignored my sarcasm, remaining impassive. "The Russian mafia wants to take over our property in New York. They’re expanding too fast, eliminating competitors, claiming new territories. They’re cutting old deals and establishing new ones—on their own terms. Luigi Romano is caught in the middle of it." I swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

"Maybe I'm just a Roglas. That seems to be enough." "No." Rafael shifted to face her fully. "This isn't about your family name. I've dealt with the Roglases before. They're small-time, barely worth my attention. But tonight, I watched the Bratva, the Calabrians, and a private military contractor all try to grab you. That level of interest doesn't come from being a minor mafia princess." Cassandra's face had gone pale. "I don't understand." "Neither do I. Yet." The car pulled into an underground garage. Rafael's safe house, a renovated warehouse he used for situations exactly like this. Secure, private, impossible to find unless you knew where to look.

With her, he has finished already. Czarina sneered in anger and glared at Logan. "Fuck you, Logan! How could you do this to me?!” "No! He will fuck you.” He pointed to Grec. "If you don't fuck her, the two of you will be dead!" he ordered Grec so forcefully that he was forced to nod due to fear. Both of them swallowed what Logan said. Knowing him, he will do and do whatever he says. The two did nothing but follow what Logan said. Czarina wanted to slap Logan but couldn't because she would get hurt too. She thought she would get a Logan Castillejo, but she was wrong.

I bet the word ‘dangerous’ throw her off guard and incites a little bit of fear in her. “He's a mafia.” I gush, earning dilated eyes from Dr. Sarah. “You shared a kiss with a mafia? A New York mafia?” She asks. It’s no novel that mafias are in New York but it’s only on hearsay because I’ve never seen one myself. However, Dima isn’t a New York mafia but Russia’s, and from the whispers I’ve heard about Russian people, their mafia’s the deadliest. I don’t know if it’s in terms of shipping drugs or fucking women or…killing but I know they’re all lethal.

I question as I slip the pulse ox off her finger. “I’m here to speak with you Miss. Violetta. I come in peace and with a message from Misha Romanov.” Helen informs me. My blood runs cold for a moment at her words before as I let them settle over me. Misha Romanov is the head of the Russian mafia. I think they call themselves Bratva. I don’t know all the various terms tossed about as most in the underworld say mafia or mob and don’t do the specific names. “Oh, is that so?” I raise an eyebrow at her.