Top Mafia Romance Fiction to Read

Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift—a way to protect me from a worse fate. Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes." My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life. They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous. They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word. It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash. That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept."

For three years, I was the wife of Don Dante Moretti. But our marriage was a transaction, and my heart was the price. I kept a ledger, deducting points for every time he chose her—his first love, Isabella—over me. When the score reached zero, I would be free. After he abandoned me on a roadside to rush to Isabella's side, I was hit by a car. I woke up in the ER, bleeding, only to hear a nurse shout that I was two months pregnant. A tiny, impossible hope flared in my chest. But as the doctors scrambled to save me, they patched my husband through on speakerphone. His voice was cold and absolute. “Isabella’s condition is critical,” he ordered. “Not one drop of the reserve blood is to be touched until she is safe. I don't care who else needs it.” I lost the baby. Our child, sacrificed by its own father. I later learned Isabella had only suffered a minor cut. The blood was just a “precautionary measure.” The tiny flicker of hope was extinguished, and something inside me snapped, clean and final. The debt was paid. Alone in the silence, I made the last entry in my ledger, bringing the score to zero. I signed the divorce papers I had already prepared, left them on his desk, and walked out of his life forever.

On my wedding night, I made a vow to Liam Gallo, the most feared man in New York. "If you ever betray me," I whispered, "I will vanish from your life as if I never existed." He laughed, thinking it was a romantic promise. It was an oath. Three years later, I discovered his betrayal. It wasn't just an affair; it was a public humiliation. His mistress, Ava, sent me photos of herself in my places, wearing jewelry he'd given me, taunting me with her presence in my life. And Liam let her. The final blow came at our Hamptons estate. I saw them together, Liam and a triumphant, pregnant Ava, in front of his inner circle. He was choosing her, his pregnant mistress, over his injured wife, demanding I apologize for upsetting her. In my own home, I was an obstacle. In my own marriage, I was a prop. The love I clung to for years finally died. Ava's texts confirmed it all, including a picture of an ultrasound captioned "Our baby," and another of her wearing the necklace he named "Maya's Dawn." So, on the morning after our anniversary party, I enacted my plan. I liquidated my assets, bulldozed the garden he planted for me, and served him divorce papers. Then, with a new identity, I walked out of the service exit and disappeared into the city, leaving the man who broke his vows to the wreckage of the life he destroyed.

My husband, Don Lorenzo Bianchi, the man who once took ninety-nine lashes for me, had just locked me in a guest room. I was four months pregnant with our child, the heir to his mafia empire. My crime was throwing a glass of wine on his mistress, a woman he had moved into our home. She cornered me in the garden, gloating that once the baby was born, he would give it to her to raise as her own. Later, she shoved me down the grand staircase, then threw herself down after me, screaming to my husband that I had tried to kill her. As I lay in a pool of my own blood, Lorenzo rushed past me, scooping her into his arms and carrying her away without a single backward glance. To force me to apologize, he had my parents brought to my hospital room and brutally whipped until they collapsed at his feet. He was no longer the man who had 999 crystals sewn into my wedding dress. He was a monster who believed every lie she told and punished me for her crimes. How could the man who swore to love me forever become this cruel stranger? But he didn't know the truth. Days before the fall, I had secretly terminated the pregnancy. I took the urn containing our child's ashes, filed for divorce, and disappeared from his world forever.

"Where do you think you're going, huh? You're mine now, Little Mouse. Get back in the house!" Vincenzo's voice boomed, sending chills down Victoria's spine as her world seemed to crumble. Victoria Washington was shattered-betrayed by her boyfriend who dumped her the day before his wedding, to her sister. She was left humiliated, mocked by everyone. But fate had other plans for her. She's broken, he's lost. She's full of fear, and he's the monster. Yet, somehow, he's her light while he remains in darkness. Vincenzo Dante will stop at nothing to tarnish his family's name for forcing him into a marriage he never wanted. But what he doesn't realize is that his new wife is stronger than she seems-too broken to bend under his cruelty. But when love begins to bloom, and secrets start to unfold, what will happen next?

Liana DeLuca grew up in silence, obeying every rule under her uncle's strict church roof. So when he forces her into marriage with a known mafia playboy, her world flips upside down. Matteo Romano is sin in human form and she wants no part of him. But Matteo isn't used to hearing "no." He's tasted every kind of pleasure life offers... except a woman like Liana. She's untouched, unbothered, and completely unimpressed by his power. He wants her. She wants him to beg. In a world full of secrets, violence, and desire, Liana finds herself pulled deeper into the underworld and deeper into Matteo's arms. But can love survive where lies were the foundation? Or will Matteo's past burn down the only good thing he's ever wanted?

My fiancé, Richard Ahmed, had been unfaithful. His mistress, Eva Marsh, sent me a provocative video. In the video, Richard and Eva were passionately kissing, while his friends cheered loudly, "You two are perfect for each other. You should get married." Richard's parents were holding Eva's hand, saying, "You're the only one we see as part of the family." I let out a cold laugh and dialed the number of my father, the head of a criminal syndicate. "Get in touch with a team for me. I have a live stream event planned." "Alright. The condition is that you return to Zlomont and become the new head of the Brooks Group."

After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field. But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me. Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number. "Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk." It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family. The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him—all dismissed as "just business." Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer. "Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him."

Diana Wales, known as "Assassin Bloody," was a top assassin with a secret past. She was an orphan who became a skilled spy and killer in New York. Diana fell deeply in love with James Fallon, who had saved her from drowning. However, James betrayed her, cheating on her and attempting to kill her. Given a second chance, Diana was reborn as Brielle Smith. She remembered her past and sought revenge against those who hurt her. An unexpected and whirlwind marriage led her into the arms of James' uncle,Enzo Ricci who turned out to be the ruthless mafia boss of New York City. With every resource at her disposal and secret identities to unlock, Brielle's revenge was within reach. But what happens when the ruthless mafia boss becomes clingy?

On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news. He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city. The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.” For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets. My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me. So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts. He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked. He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree. He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.

The day my husband, a Mafia Underboss, told me I was genetically unfit to carry his heir, he brought home my replacement—a surrogate with my eyes and a working womb. He called her a "vessel" but paraded her as his mistress, abandoning me while I bled on the floor at a party to protect her and planning their secret future in the villa he once promised me. But in our world, wives don't just walk away—they disappear, and I decided to orchestrate my own vanishing act, leaving him to the ruin he so carefully built for himself.

My fiancé of seven years, the heir to a mafia dynasty, claimed amnesia three weeks before our wedding, forgetting only me. Then I overheard him laughing on a video call, calling it the perfect "hall pass" to sleep with an influencer before he was tied down. He flaunted his affair, abandoned me with a broken arm after a staged car crash to save her from a scratch, and planned to leave me homeless. He called me his "property," a doll he could play with and put back on the shelf when he was done. He thought I’d be waiting for his "miraculous recovery." Instead, I disappeared, leaving behind his ring and a simple note: "I remember everything. Me too."

When I was eight, Dante Moretti pulled me from the fire that killed my family. For ten years, the powerful crime boss was my protector and my god. Then, he announced his engagement to another woman to unite two criminal empires. He brought her home and named her the future mistress of the Moretti family. In front of everyone, his fiancée forced a cheap metal collar around my neck, calling me their pet. Dante knew I was allergic. He just watched, his eyes cold, and ordered me to take it. That night, I listened through the walls as he took her to his bed. I finally understood the promise he’d made me as a child was a lie. I wasn't his family. I was his property. After a decade of devotion, my love for him finally turned to ash. So on his birthday, the day he celebrated his new future, I walked out of his gilded cage for good. A private jet was waiting to take me to my real father—his greatest enemy.

I was eight months pregnant with the heir to my husband's criminal empire, a man I adored. Then I found his vasectomy certificate, dated a year ago—six months before he begged me for a son. Our entire marriage was a lie, a cruel game orchestrated for his obsessive sister. I overheard him admit he let his men defile me, turning my pregnancy into a public bet just to prove he could build me a throne and then watch me burn on it. My love, my life, my child—it was all a ritual sacrifice. But they forgot one thing about the woman they planned to destroy. As they plotted my final humiliation, I made a single call to the one man my husband truly fears. "Dad," I said quietly. "I'm ready to come home."

At my ten-week ultrasound, I was supposed to be celebrating the future of the Falcone family. I was Isabella Falcone, wife to the most powerful Don in the south. But when the nurse called my name, the man who stood up beside his pregnant mistress was my husband. In the sterile silence of that waiting room, he chose her. He later confessed he was being blackmailed by her family—a weakness that was a death sentence in our world. That night, he moved his mistress into our home, into my bedroom, and locked me away like a prisoner in the staff quarters. He wasn't imprisoning his wife; he was guarding an asset. He needed the legitimate heir I carried to save his crumbling empire. His betrayal was absolute when his own mother and my adoptive parents arrived while he was away. They forced me to sign divorce papers, then told me they were taking me to a clinic. His mother pulled out a gun and pointed not at my head, but at my stomach. "We're terminating this complication," she said coldly. As they dragged me from the house, my world went dark. But through the haze, I saw a fleet of black cars blocking the gate. An army of men poured out, led by a face I had only ever seen in a photograph. Days earlier, locked in my room, I made a single phone call to the only man more powerful than my husband: my biological father, the head of the Chicago Outfit. And he had come to collect his daughter.

For five years, I lived a beautiful lie. I was Aliana Hughes, the cherished wife of the city's most feared Mafia Capo and the beloved daughter of the Don. I believed my arranged marriage had blossomed into love. On my birthday, my husband promised me the amusement park. Instead, I found him there with his other family, celebrating the fifth birthday of the son I never knew he had. I overheard their plan. My husband called me a "naive fool," a placeholder to legitimize his secret son. The ultimate betrayal wasn't his affair, but the sight of my own father's car parked across the street. My family wasn't just aware; they were the architects of my ruin. Back home, I found the proof: a secret photo album of my husband's other family posing with my parents, and records showing my father had bankrolled the entire deception. They had even drugged me on weekends so he could play happy family. The grief didn't break me. It turned into something cold and sharp. I was a ghost in a life that was never mine, and a ghost has nothing to lose. I copied every damning file onto a USB drive. As they celebrated their perfect day, I sent a courier with my parting gift: a recording of their treachery. While their world burned, I walked toward the airport, ready to erase myself and start over.

I was sold to pay off my father's debt. But instead of freedom, I found myself owned by a monster in a suit. Emilia never expected her life to be torn apart overnight. Quiet, soft-spoken, and painfully naïve, she was handed over like a transaction, to the most feared Mafia Lord in the city. Lucien Moretti is powerful, ruthless, and cold as ice. He doesn't need her love, just her obedience. But Emilia isn't prepared for the way his eyes burn when someone else touches her. Or the way her heart races when he lowers his walls, if only for a second. Everyone says Lucien has no soul. But monsters don't protect girls like her. And they definitely don't bleed. As secrets unravel and blood debts resurface, Emilia must decide: is Lucien her captor... or her only chance at survival? In a world of betrayal and danger, she was sold to the devil. But the devil might just be falling for her.

My marriage to Marco Ricci was a contract signed in blood, a promise to unite the two most powerful families on the East Coast. He was my future, the king chosen to rule beside me. Everyone said our union was destiny. But he came home smelling of cheap perfume and another woman's lies. It was the scent of Angelia, the fragile orphan his family had taken in, the girl he swore he protected like a sister. I followed him to a private club. From the shadows, I watched him pull her into his arms and give her a hungry, desperate kiss—a kiss he had never given me. In that instant, my entire future shattered. I finally understood the whispers from his men that I was just a political prize, while Angelia was their true queen. He wanted my empire, but his heart belonged to her. I would not be a consolation prize. I would not be second to anyone. I walked straight into my father's study, my voice as cold as ice. "I'm calling off the wedding." When he protested, I delivered the final blow. "I will uphold our family's need for an alliance. I will marry Don Dante Valentino." My father's whiskey glass shattered on the floor. Dante Valentino was our greatest rival.

The man who swore he would burn the world down for me has been married to another woman for three years. I found out the day I was finally discharged from the Swiss clinic he'd sent me to. I flew home to surprise him, only to discover my release was a year overdue. He had forged my medical reports, painting me as a fragile, broken thing just to keep me locked away while he built a new life. His new wife, Isabella, hit me with her car. He defended her, calling me hysterical. She stole my art portfolio and claimed it as her own, and he forced me to take the blame to protect his family's reputation. She even killed her own puppy to frame me. While I jumped into a freezing river to retrieve my father's medallion that she'd thrown in, he stood on the terrace pointing out a meteor shower to her. The final betrayal came when Isabella faked her own kidnapping and named me as the culprit. I didn't understand. This was Dante Moretti, the Devil of the East Coast, my guardian, the man who had sworn to be my shield. Why was he letting this woman destroy me piece by piece? Believing I was the kidnapper, he had me tied to a helicopter, dragged across a field, and left me for dead. But I didn't die. I survived. Five years later, I have a new name, a new life, and a husband who loves me. And today, I just ran into Dante on the street. He looked at me like he'd seen a ghost.

[DARK ROMANCE STORY] "Who sent you to me?" the man asked. His fingers traced every inch of Natalie's beautiful face. "No one." She remained expressionless. "Liar!" Mr. Vittorio grabbed Natalie's long hair with such force that she winced in pain. Tears finally dripped from her eyes. Natalie thought being imprisoned by her ex and losing her modeling career was the most horrible thing in her life. However, she was wrong. Being auctioned off and bought by Don Vittorio was far more horrifying than anything else!