The Mafia Boss Captive Novels & Stories

Like he had been starving for me, and I was the only thing that could sate his hunger. And that was the problem. I wasn’t supposed to feel that. He was my captor, damn it. A mafia lord. The kind of man you ran from, not towards. Yet here I was, still tasting him, still replaying the feel of his mouth, the weight of his body, the way he had looked at me after.

I replied, wiping my tears, as I avoided his gaze. Now he's got what he wanted. “ I'm washing their fucking hands off your body tonight.” Cassius gritted and started the car, driving with full speed. As he drove, my mind kept dwelling back at what happened back at the place where I was kidnapped. The Mafia boss who kidnapped me, called Cassius, Satan's heir. And as far as I know, there was just one Mafia Lord who is called Satan's heir in all of Tuscany Italy, but it turned out to be Cassius? How?

he said, pointing toward the spot where the dead man had fallen, “was the idiot who recruited the fools that attacked the girl, Lucy and the Mafia Don. His plan failed. And I don’t tolerate failure.” The tallest of the three stepped forward, his voice steady. “We heard, boss. And we’ll get it done. No mistakes.” The boss’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want promises. I want results. The girl is still breathing, and the Don is protecting her. That makes this twice as hard, but…”...his lips curled into a dark grin...“…I trust you boys like I trust my own hands.” The second man, with a scar running down his cheek, nodded once. “We’ll find her. And when we do, we’ll finish it.”

She had to know more about the person behind the message. As she ponders her next move, Betty’s thoughts drifts to Mateo. She couldn’t deny the attraction she felt towards him at the library, the intensity of their skin almost touching made her blood boil, she shakes her head violently to end the thought. “After all he is a mafia boss, my captor, I can never trust him”. Yet, there was something about him that drew her in. Betty’s thoughts were conflicted, part of her wanted to rebel against her captor and flee from his grip while another part was drawn to him. She didn’t know what to do or who to trust.

He was tall and imposing, with piercing eyes that seemed to bore into my soul. I felt a shiver run down my spine as our eyes met. I knew, in that moment, that I was in grave danger. The figure on the balcony was Marco De Luca, the ruthless Mafia don. And I was his captive. _Emilia's POV_ I was dragged towards the mansion, my feet stumbling on the gravel driveway. The men in suits held me firmly, their grip unyielding. As we approached the entrance, the massive wooden doors swung open, revealing a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase. The interior was opulent, with marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and lavish artwork adorning the walls.

He seemed to be comparing a photo with Matthias. "Che cazzo," he cursed. Italian. His kidnapper was Italian. Somehow, this made Matthias think of the Mafia.

The first time he saw me, I was a girl standing in the rain. The second time, I was a medical student holding a crime lord's life in my hands. The third time, he dragged me from my clinic, bleeding out on a stretcher, and claimed me as his own. "Who are you?" I asked, a captive in his glittering penthouse. "I'm the man who's been watching you for nine years, milaya," Damian Volkov whispered. He's the Bratva king, a monster in a bespoke suit, and his obsession with me is as deep and dangerous as the secrets I'm hiding. He sees a surgeon. A prize.

Luca and Enzo knelt in the center of the room, their hands tied behind their backs, their faces pale. They had been in the Mafia for years. Had served loyally. Had thought that meant something. But tonight, they knew the truth. There were no second chances anymore. Not under this version of Jeremy Cali. The other men stood in the shadows, silent, watching. No one dared speak. Jeremy slowly pulled out his gun, inspecting it, his fingers running over the cool metal like it was just another business tool. Then he crouched down in front of them. "200 kilos are missing."

Alarms blared throughout the villa. “Elena!” Rafael’s voice boomed from the hallway. He burst into the studio, gun already drawn. “We’re under attack. Move!” “What the hell is happening?” she shouted, following him at a run as another blast rocked the compound. This one was closer—near the east wall. “Rossis,” Rafael replied grimly, shoving her toward the reinforced panic room. “They’re coming for you specifically. There’s a bounty. Alive if possible. They want to make an example out of the ‘Vitale whore who switched sides.’”

My phone taken away. "Olivia." He crouched in front of me, someone else's blood still on his hands. "You can't go out anymore. When I've cleared every threat—I'll let you go free." That was the first day of my captivity. The villa was massive. Bulletproof glass on every window. Electronic locks on the garden gate. He bought me books, a computer, art supplies. Meals came three times a day. A doctor visited weekly. But I wasn't allowed to leave.