The Dons Contract Wife From Butcher Novels & Stories

The woman dimpled again. “We’ve met before, Mr…?” Suddenly, two men swooped down on them, accompanied by a plump woman, who looked Russian. “Mumma, remember S Just? Finn St Jut?’ asked the broader of the two men, both spitting images of the grim-faced Don. “She’s not senile, boy!”” growled the Don who had people hovering around him, offering drinks and finger food. Proserpina Delano turned to her husband and Bianca saw the softly reproachful look on her face as she sighed.

The crest matched the one on the doors. Micardo. My stomach turned. The guards shoved me forward. I stumbled a little but caught myself, raising my chin. He didn’t even look at me at first, just sliced another piece of steak and chewed slowly. When he finally glanced up, his eyes were small and sharp. “Sit,” he said. I didn’t. “I’m the DeLuca Don’s wife,” I said, my voice filled with disdain towards him, despite the fact that I was actually at their mercy. “And you do know you’ll pay for this.”

Donnie said, waving his hands in a dismissive manner, “he has some bit of, actually never mind.” I frowned, feeling my patience wear thin. “Just get to the point, Donnie.” “He needs a contract wife because he has a condition and can’t marry as he wishes. Consider yourself lucky because this isn’t meant for a girl like you. Men like him don’t go for girls like you. Consider this a favor and an opportunity.” He said, his eyes gleaming with malice. I clenched my fists, swallowing my pride once more. “Are you serious?” “Dead serious. Are you interested?” he asked, his tone making it clear he enjoyed seeing me in this position.

“I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry for putting your life in danger. I never meant for any of this to touch you.” My stomach twisted. “Oh my god, you do know her.” He nodded once, it was slow and miserable. “Who is she?” “Her name is Donna Sofia.” He spoke the name like it tasted bitter. “She’s married to one of the old bosses, Don Moretti. Back when Don Antonio adopted me, Don Moretti and Antonio were partners, they were thick as thieves.” He paused, rubbed his thumb across his knuckles like the motion could erase what came next.

Placing the pitcher back on the table, she told him, “I’m not sure who Leila is, but the only person who visited was asked to go back.” “What? Why?” Madonna scoffed. “She was hovering over you.” “Because she’s my wife.” A cough wracked his body, and he sat up against his sister’s silent warning. “Wives worry about their husbands.” “How would I have known she’s your wife if she couldn’t provide any evidence showing that?” Madonna snapped. He waved the hand with his ring, and she rolled her eyes. “Anyone can buy a ring, Kev. Now stop trying to get up.”

Don Vitalino looked at the young woman in the photo as Connor used the Godfather’s motionless finger to scroll through pictures. “‘Isn’t she the finest piece of meat? Look at her curves.’ Remember your words, Don? Did you like her curve when you forced her to strip down in front of you and your men? Did your men enjoy the show?” Gritting his teeth, he scrolled through the pictures of his innocent wife, the memories haunting him with each image. And, in a fit of anger, he broke Don’s finger. The Don’s eyes were bloodshot, and tears streamed down his face. The slightest movement he felt in his finger disappeared completely after experiencing unbearable pain.

"I can't handle all these things for a while. I'll take it back when I finished." "Wait." "What?" I looked at him in confusion. His eyes were dark as if he was warning me. "I hope you understand one thing." "What's the matter?" I was confused. Donovan stood up from the chair and came in against the lights. His steps were steady and slow. Finally, he stood in front of me and said, condescendingly, "You and I are still husband and wife. Don't flirt with other men." I did not respond for a long time. Did I flirt with someone?

For a moment he slipped an arm around my waist, clearly about to escort me out, but his phone rang before we could take a step. He answered, listened for a few seconds, and then slowly let go of me. “Take Donna to the hospital,” he instructed one of his men. Then he looked back at me, his tone as steady as if we were discussing a routine business matter. “Elena, I have something to handle. I’ll check on you later.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Victor, I’m your wife. Someone just drugged me, and you’re sending me to the hospital alone?”

Just watched me like I was an inconvenience that had walked into his house. “And the contract…” My voice cracked. “The contract was with you. Not… both of you.” Nico took a slow sip. “You married into the Black name. That covers both of us.” A broken sound escaped me... not quite a laugh. “That’s not what the papers said.” “Read them again.” My hands shook so badly I had to grip the front of my dress tighter. I had read every page three times. I was sure of it. But right now, with both of them looking at me, I wasn’t sure of anything.

“Don Falcone, If that’s what you call a tantrum, Don Falcone, what do you call a married man proposing to his mistress in Las Vegas?” “How did you know—” “The whole world knows.” The line went dead. Matteo stared at the phone, a true, deep fear creeping into his heart for the first time. The news hit the streets like a car bomb. Within two hours, the entire Chicago underworld was buzzing with the explosive story: Matteo Falcone, Don of the Falcone family, had a secret wife all along. And he had proposed to his mistress in Las Vegas, causing his wife to leave him in fury.