The Dons Contract Wife From Butcher Novels & Stories

I will pay him or her a King’s ransom…’ Piers Delano, who had stopped eating, cut him short, saying in a cool voice. ‘Mumma prepared the food.’ The astonished Irishman turned to look in the direction of the Don’s wife. She still stood beside her husband, her full breasts pushing against the Boss’s shoulder, wide-eyed as she watched him like a hunted deer; and O’Connor felt a hot flash of lust. But he hid his desire well as he said, “Ah…’ for once at a loss for words.

Grandmother was interrupted by mason. “No one wants to know what happened when your husband was the Don. Dons are not gods and there is freedom of speech, besides, I don’t hear the Don complaining.” Mason spoke. “If it was a drunken one-night stand, then isn’t the daughter just irresponsible?” The Don asked and everyone was surprised that he was participating in the conversation. Grandmother’s jaw dropped as she shook her with a frustrated expression on her face. The Don’s words soon registered in Olivia’s brain and she narrowed her eyes at him even though he wasn’t looking her way.

Across from her sat Adrien, his expression unreadable, dressed in black as always — a dark prince surrounded by shadows. And at the head of the table, dominating the room without even trying, was Don Alessandro D’Angelo. His silver hair gleamed under the light, his sharp gaze shifting between them like a blade. “So,” the Don said at last, his deep voice echoing through the marble room. “This is the girl.” Elena’s throat went dry. “Yes,” Adrien replied smoothly. “My wife.” The word still burned on her skin. Every time he said it, she felt the weight of that contract press tighter around her chest.

Knight was shocked by what he read, this was what the contract contained. The two signed, Don Constanstino as the seller and Knight as the buyer. Meanwhile, Don Constantino took the young woman's palm and without warning cut it with a small blade. The young woman winced in shock and pain. The Don ordered her to thumbmark under the contract using the blood from her wound. "Don't you ever make the mistake of disobeying and escaping, he will kill you and your whole family." The Don whispered in her ear, causing her tears to fall.

“A… what?” “A marriage contract,” he repeated, slower this time, as if saying it gently would soften the blow. “An agreement made years ago.” My breath caught. “You’re joking.” Seth shook his head. “No.” I laughed, a short, disbelieving sound. “You can’t be serious. A contract—with whom?” “With an Italian Don.” The room spun slightly. I took a step back without realizing it. “An Italian… Don?” I repeated. “You’re telling me my life was signed away like a business deal?”

The rush of adrenaline made me restless and I soon found myself on my feet, pacing back and forth. What if accepting the Don's proposal was a mistake? And my mom… Fuck. I didn't even know her state right now. The thought of that made me bolt out of the room, wanting to ask him about my mom. But the scene I met outside made me freeze, clutching my fingers around the railing. “You had just one job,” Don said, his tone low and dark. The worker he's holding trembles unreasonably under Don's grip, sweat greasing his entire body, like he's been drenched by rain.

It looped photos of us from the past with the caption: Isabella, I was wrong. At the New York premiere, he even used what remained of the Corleone family's connections just to try and see me. When the bodyguards blocked him at the door, he knelt down in front of the entire media corps. The next day, the headlines of every tabloid read: Former Mafia Don Kneels in the Street to Beg Ex-Wife's Forgiveness. I ignored all of it, pouring all my energy into filming my new movie. It was during filming that I met Luca Moretti.

The company's elders, watching us lock horns, stood their ground and tried to smooth things over: "Take a breath, will you? Don's just under the weather. As his wife, you oughta be his rock, not blocking his every move." Sebastian's lips twitched into a smirk, but he played it straight. "My wife calls the shots. Cross her in this family, and you'll answer to me." With that, he slapped his gun down on the table. The elders, taken aback at first, then chuckled and closed in around me. "Elena, Don's still head over heels for you. He's just got a short-circuit in the memory department, mistook someone else for you, that's all," they said.

One of the elders. "Dante. Your behavior today was an embarrassment. The Mercers are essential to our operation. Bianca comes first. That's not a suggestion." "As for the painter you've been harboring, I'm going to be direct with you. I gave the order to the doctor a while back. She can't have children anymore. She's useless to you. Let it go. Focus on your family." Dante's hand wouldn't stop shaking.

To my face, they were polite, deferential even, out of fear of the Don. But the second Luca turned his back, the sneers and whispers cut through the low hum of the room, sharp as a switchblade. “A steward’s daughter, at the Don’s right hand? It’s a disgrace to the honor of the Families.”“She’s just the help that kept him alive when he couldn’t speak. Thinks she’s the Donna now?”“He’d never marry her. No bloodline, no name. Shames the Vitali legacy.” I stood alone, invisible, a ghost at the Family banquet.