The Mafia Bride Novels & Stories

"And wear something that says 'Mafia Queen,' not 'hiding in my room.' My tailor left a garment bag on your dressing table. Use it." I heard his footsteps fade away. I groaned, rubbing my eyes. My body felt heavy from the stress of the previous night. I had spent hours trying to find a backdoor into my frozen accounts, but my father’s firewall was a masterpiece. That cruel man. He hadn't just blocked me; he had set a trap. If I tried to force my way in again, a signal would be sent directly to the Moretti security team. I walked over to the dressing table and unzipped the garment bag. Inside was a dress that almost looked like it was owned by Katherine Pierce of TVD. The dress was deep navy b

"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."

I swallowed my pride and whispered, “I won’t.” --- Minutes later, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in Lorenzo's room. Three gowns lay across the bed. All expensive. All glamorous. All screaming Mafia wife. And I hated that a part of me didn’t hate them. Because somehow, I was actually going to do this. I was going to host a fucking mafia party. Smile at criminals. Pour wine for men who probably had blood on their shoes. Play the good little wife for the man who might’ve loved my sister—or maybe destroyed her.

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.

They kept me hidden, not wanting the other mafia dons to see me. And now, in the greatest irony of all, a mafia don was my husband. The driver opened the door, but before I could move, Nikolai grasped my hand in a warning. And I understood what he wanted from me. He helped me out of the car, and my skin burned wherever he touched me. A number of cameras flashed on our faces. Photographers, journalists, and onlookers were desperate to capture a glimpse of the ruthless Mafia King and his new bride, while Nikolai ignored them all. The flashes were too bright, making it hard to see.

A small velvet box appeared. "Adrian..." He opened it. Inside was a beautiful ring. "I know we already have rings." "This one is different." "How?" "There are no conditions." He got down on one knee. "Elena Rossi, will you marry me again?" I laughed through my tears. "You're asking me to marry the same man twice?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because the first time, you married a mafia don." "And this time?" He smiled. "Just a man who loves you." I wiped my tears. "Yes." He slipped the ring onto my finger. Then he stood and kissed me. No contract. No money. Just love.

Story 2: Title: A night with the virgin bride. Leah Claire thought she had control of her life an amazing job, loving parents, and her future perfectly planned. But on her 22nd birthday, everything shatters. Sold off to a mysterious mafia husband to settle a family debt, Leah’s attempt to reclaim her freedom leads to a wild night with a stranger… who turns out to be the man she was meant to marry. —— "It's my first time" Leah said with a shaky voice and a scared look which made her legs shiver.

Whatever this man is doing, it's meant to provoke me. According to the clan's law, when a new bride is welcomed by the mafia Don, they expect to glimpse her sensually. They think she's just a commodity, assuming she’s part of a contract marriage. "What?" he says sarcastically. "You’re not marrying her for love. Rules are rules." "Whatever the rules are, I don’t care. What’s mine is mine, and I don’t share. She’s no slut. She’s just mine." I angrily hit the table as I feel a surge of anger boiling inside me.

I muttered under my breath. As I said it out loud, a lot of things started to make sense. His lame excuses, constantly running off without proper explanations and the way people instantly fear him. It was all starting to come together. Even the way we got married. I still had a million questions, though. “Mafia? Did you just say mafia?” Her eyes widened and I nodded. “And apparently, he’s their leader.” “What? Are you serious?” Tears ran down my head as I nodded, confirming it. She seemed confused.

Punishment in the Mafia world knew no mercy. There were no second chances, no do-overs, only judgement. Don Antonio Lorenzo, once a powerful lion in their brutal mafia jungle, now stood at the gallows like an expired good waiting to be discarded. His bloody face still carried his proud and defiant look, unaware that his legacy had been wiped out the night before. He caught Isabella's eyes in the crowd, weeping heavily, surrounded by her in-laws the Morettis… the same bloodsuckers who had betrayed him and condemned him to this fate.