The Dons Contract Wife From Butcher Novels & Stories

"You don't care about me or Marco, and you don't care about this house. You are doing this entirely for your own selfish gain. You want the Valenti name to secure your own social standing. You want to keep playing the grand matriarch of the city, pulling the strings behind my back, using my life and my body as a currency to buy your own comfort! I am done being your puppet. I run this family now. Not you." Elena stumbled back a step, her face turning pale as she collapsed back into her chair, utterly silenced by the weight of his words. Enzo Valenti slowly stood up, pulling the fabric of his tailored jacket down. The brief moment of diplomacy was over, and the dark, murderous expression of a

He sat down and took my hand, his tone carrying that self-righteous helplessness men in our world often used. "Sophia, you know how it was yesterday. You are lethal; you can protect yourself. But Bella is weak. She has a five-year-old son. I couldn't let a child lose his mother." I nodded. "I understand." Alexander looked relieved. He reached out and stroked my cheek. "You act more like a true Donna every day. I’m lucky my wife is so understanding." I laughed internally. So that was the duty of a Don's wife—to bleed, to sacrifice, and then watch her husband protect another woman.

Donald stepped forward slightly, placing himself just enough between them. “Now that you've settled in, tell me, why are you here?” he asked, his tone calm but firm. Damon leaned back slightly, unfazed. “I just wanted to see where my Queen is living.” Donald’s eyes darkened slightly. “Rebecca is my wife,” he said. “Not yours.” Damon smiled lazily. “Titles don’t change history.” Donald’s jaw tightened. “What would it take,” he asked slowly, “for you to leave her alone?”

I glanced toward the door, where I knew Dante was standing just outside, I could feel him even when I couldn’t see him. “I’m married again,” I said. Her eyes snapped back to me. “What?” “I remarried,” I repeated. “His name is Dante Romano.” The color drained from her face so fast it scared me. Her hand tightened in the sheets. “Dante… Romano?” I nodded. “The Don?” she whispered. The word felt heavier hearing it from her lips. “Yes.” Fear crossed her face… real fear, unfiltered. “Oh God,” she breathed. “Serena, what have you done?”

I didn't even have to go out of my way to find news about the celebrated Don. I only had to listen to the gossip from the low-level enforcers collecting protection money on the street corners to piece together his movements. "Hey, you hear? Don Connor popped ten bottles of Louis XIII at the club last night just because that woman, Riley, said the champagne was too dry." "And get this, I hear he bought her son a purebred racehorse for over half a million dollars!" "I heard the Don has a wife, but she's never been seen in public. Poor thing."

"Every woman I can think of is either a victim or a villain, and I cannot make any of them be both." "Maybe the one he meant isn't any of them." "Who else?" I open my mouth, and no name comes. He looks at me for a long moment, and then he holds out his hand, palm up, like a man asking for a dance. "Stop," he says. "Not tonight. I have had a day of being a Don and I would like, for one hour, to be somebody's husband." My heart does something it has no business doing. "I don't know how that goes," I say. "We never practiced."

At our wedding, Julian, the head of the Moretti family, declared his love for me in front of New York’s most powerful crime families. “Here’s to our marriage, my beautiful wife.” A second later, he ripped off my veil and whispered coldly in my ear. “And here’s to our divorce, Claire.” The tears of joy froze on my face. The wedding was supposed to cement an alliance between our families. An encrypted livestream was carrying every moment to the allies who couldn’t attend. As I stared in shock, he pulled Sienna—the woman who managed his family’s books—into his arms. She wore a white Versace gown. The bride’s color. “If you’d just let her have that necklace last week, none of this would be happe

I brushed my hair and left it falling over my shoulders before slipping into a pair of comfortable flats. When I stepped out, Nikolai was waiting near the door. His eyes moved briefly over my appearance before he turned away. "Let's go." I followed him out. We walked down the grand staircase, passing several staff members who immediately lowered their heads when they saw him. "Good morning, Don Martello." "Good morning, sir." Nikolai acknowledged them with brief nods. I kept my eyes forward, feeling uncomfortable under their curious glances. Some of them looked at my ring. Others looked at me as though they were trying to figure out how I had ended up married to their Don.

Unable to contain it, I start laughing with him until my stomach hurts. “You blushed, Sorella,” he accuses, still smiling. "Did he treat you well?" — Yes, Giacomo — Sigh — Is Jack coming? - I change the subject again. "Jack's giving me a headache." - Like? — Sartori asked if he would be the next to marry — He stops making a curve entering University Ave — Now Don's wife, every time she sees me, keeps talking about the possibilities and Sartori says that his attitude doesn't seem like a man who wants to marry.

“ You…..get the hell out of my house . “ said mr Donovan angry . “ Me ?……..Why ? I came to stay . “ said Antonio with a smirk . “ To stay ? This is the last time I am warning you . Get lost ! Get lost to wherever you came from ! “ said mr Donovan . “ He he he he he ! Mr Donovan , can you replace the blood in your veins ? “ asked Antonio with a calm expression leaving mr Donovan with a speechless look . “ No ?……Then , you have no other choice but to get used to the fact of having me around . After all , your blood is my blood whether you like it or not……..Oh , by the way , Antonia has told me about how sceptical you are so we can also take a DNA test . That is , so that you can be convinced .