The Mafia Beast's Blushing Bride Novels & Stories

The headline blazed across the screen: Luca Morano's Wedding with Mafia Princess Hikky Lopez. Her chest caved in as the image sharpened. Luca stood at the altar beside Hikky, surrounded by gilded flowers and ceremonial shadows. His jaw was locked, unreadable, his suit crisp, his shoulders broad as ever. And Hikky was smiling sweetly, draped in ivory silk, she looked like the perfect bride. Tears streamed down Alessia's cheeks. Each drop was heavier than the last, pulling her deeper into despair.

"Always the life of the party, she had her wish fulfilled when she met what she believed was the man of her dreams at an extravagant event. He was wealthy and charming, showering her with gifts. They were inseparable for a while, and my sister fell deeply in love. But then everything changed. Sasha's behavior shifted, and I pushed her to confide in me about what was wrong. One day, I saw the extensive bruising, and I threatened to tell our father if she didn't reveal the truth. It was the only time she broke down, sobbing as she confessed to me that he had started to abuse her." "That bastard!" Victor exclaimed, his anger palpable. Surprised by his outburst, I found a glimmer of courage to c

The warmth of the night before seemed like a distant dream now, replaced by a cold, harsh reality. Just then, her phone suddenly rang. Her heart skipped a beat, a sense of suspicion creeping in. She answered the call, her voice shaky. "Hello?" "Miss Claire," the deep, familiar voice of Big John, the hefty man came through the line. "I trust you have had time to consider Don Lucas’ proposal." “Don? Am I dealing with the mafia?” Claire thought in fear. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. "Y-yes, I have."

One of them said, smiling at him. His name was Massimo. It sounded like a mafia name. Was he a mafia boss? Oh, no. No way. He held my hand as we entered the hall, Luca was behind us. “Massimo is here!” Someone screamed from the crowd. “Mama!” That same voice called again. His hands wouldn't leave mine even though I felt so uncomfortable. “You're about to meet my family, Freckles. You are my wife now. Your mother's bills are sorted already. Just act normal.” He leaned down to whisper these disgusting words into my ears. I couldn't comprehend what I had just heard.

"First, you fake grace, now you act all virtuous? Haven't you always wanted me to touch you? Don't come crawling into my bed later, begging me to ignore how much you disgust me." I couldn't take it anymore and cut him off. "I'll say it again, Mr. Carlo. Show some respect. I never said I'd marry you." As soon as I finished speaking, the room fell completely silent. A wave of laughter erupted soon after. "Oh really? Then who are you going to marry? Everyone in the Velmont underworld knows how you've been obsessed with me. Who else would even want you?" He paused, as if a thought had just struck him. "Oh, wait, maybe my youngest brother Salvatore wouldn't mind."

A room of killers, traitors, rulers of blood and shadow. The Moretti Mafia. My new family. They turned. Looked. Stared. At me. The whispers began. “So that’s her...” “The Wolf Bride...” “The American heiress...” Their hunger was very obvious. Like wolves scenting a bleeding doe. Nero smiled. “She’s exquisite, isn’t she?” His voice cut through the murmurs. “Mine. Body and soul. The final bond of our bloodlines.” A glass clinked. A toast was raised.

Vultures perfumed with Chanel. She wore black—not out of mourning, but as a warning. The dress hugged her frame like a forged shell, sculpted to intimidate as much as it seduced. Her dark hair had been braided into an intricate crown, woven with tiny pins that gleamed like steel. Her lips, painted in a deep matte crimson, looked like they’d been kissed by the mouth of war. She didn’t blink. Didn’t falter. Every inch of her radiated the truth: she was no longer anyone’s pawn. She was the mafia bride. And she had teeth.

Instead, I bury my cellphone deep into my handbag and try to focus on my breathing. Anthony Romano is seated opposite from me, muttering commands into his phone. Our eyes meet occasionally but he doesn’t utter one word to me even as he sees that I’m clearly unsettled. The entire duration of the flight to New Jersey is all of 3 hours before we’re landing in the airstrip, getting into a waiting black SUV and being driven away. It all happens so fast, a protocol to transport the heir to the Italian mafia and his bride to be – away before harm is done.

Her touch was hesitant at first, then confident, practiced. And oh, my God, she was good. It wasn't a surprise, given her admitted double life. But this was a new level of surreal. The bride-to-be, the daughter of one mafia boss and soon-to-be wife of another, gives a professional-grade blowjob to the hired stripper. It was then I realized that cheating on their partners isn't limited to one gender.

He growled when he saw that. “Bend over,” he said. She turned around. Bent over the table. Her breasts pressed against the cool wood. Mikhail slapped her ass. Light but sharp. She gasped. “Say it,” he said. “I belong only to Misha.” “I belong only to Misha,” she moaned. He slapped her again. Then pushed inside her in one hard thrust. Bella cried out. “Fuck…” He fucked her rough. Deep. His hips slammed against her ass with every thrust.