Accidentally Proposed To The Mafia King
Isabella Hart thought her Valentine's Day plan was perfect: propose to her boyfriend, celebrate in the Maldives, and finally start the life she'd dreamed of.
Instead, she walked into his office and found him kissing his assistant who was also her friend.
Heartbreak turned to fury and before she could stop herself, she shoved the engagement ring meant for him onto the finger of a stranger with cold gray eyes.
The stranger looked at her, amused, and said, "I do."
Moments later, her ex called that stranger Boss.
Luciano Moretti, the stranger, was no ordinary man. He was the quiet, ruthless king of New York's underworld, the man people whispered about but never dared to name aloud.
What began as a viral mistake became a dangerous entanglement of power, lies, and a love too forbidden to survive the truth.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Bella's POV
"Bells!" Ava exclaimed from the hallway immediately Luca was gone, rushing in with wide eyes. "I saw a shadow of him. Was... that him? Was that the guy? OH MY GOD IT WAS, WASN'T IT?!" She shut the door dramatically. "Girl. GIRL. What the hell...how is he even real? And why does he look like he bites?"
I groaned loudly, falling onto the couch. "Ava, please. Not now."
She flopped beside me, eyes shining like a toddler at Christmas. "Bella, he is...my God...like...like if sin took human form. And he came to your house looking like that. And he wants to fake-marry you? Babe... babe...this is destiny!"
"It is insanity," I snapped immediately while rolling my eyes in exasperation.
"Destiny," she corrected.
I shot her a glare. "Do you not remember what happened today? I caught Ethan cheating. I humiliated myself. I proposed to a total stranger. I went viral. I cried so hard my eyes might fall out. And now some... mafia-looking, storm-eyed mafia boss wants to drag me into a PR stunt that could ruin my entire life."
Ava blinked hard at that. "You think he's mafia?"
"Have you seen him?" I flung my hands up in frustration and cried out. "No normal civilian looks like that."
"Fair point," Ava whispered, nodding solemnly. Then her eyes lit again. "But babe... maybe this is fate."
I stared at her. "Ava. I am done with fate. Done. Done with men. Done with love. Done with everything. I am retiring from romance. Permanently."
"Oh please," she laughed. "You're a romance novelist's dream."
"I am a cautionary tale," I corrected. "And I want nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with love again."
She sighed dramatically, looping her arm through mine. "Fine. No love. But you have to admit... he's sexy."
I groaned and buried my face in a pillow. "I want to die."
"You can die," she said, rubbing my shoulder. "But not tonight. Because we need ice cream."
I almost smiled at that. Almost.
***
The next night though, everything changed.
I got home from my shift at the company where I saw working as a marketing consultant, juggling my bag, keys, and a pack of ramen, only to stop dead in the hallway.
My door was slightly open.
My heart dropped to my toes.
I pushed it gently. It creaked.
The lights were off. The air felt wrong-disturbed, invaded, cold.
My stomach twisted painfully as I stepped inside.
My living room was a mess-my drawers open, magazines tossed onto the floor, cushions flipped over. Everything.
Panic clawed up my throat.
"Ava?" I called weakly, hoping to hell that she was not around.
Nothing.
I rushed to my desk.
My laptop was gone.
Gone.
My pulse went wild. "No, no, no, no-"
Then, my phone buzzed.
It was a new message from an unknown number: You shouldn't have met him.
My chest constricted even as I saw another message and read: Walk away while you still can.
I stumbled backward, hand trembling so violently the phone nearly fell.
There was a third message: You're in danger because of him. Watch your back.
I sank onto the couch, breath coming in fast, shallow bursts.
This wasn't just heartbreak.
This wasn't just humiliation.
This was danger.
Real. Tangible. Close.
My phone vibrated again and this time, I was so scared to look.
I sighed deeply and braced myself to read.
I am outside.-L.
Furrowing my brows in surprise, I checked my windows to see a black car idled at the curb.
The car was sleek, expensive, silent.
My heart thudded in my chest as I looked at it.
I shook my head at myself for being surprised about this in the first place.
I mean, if he could know my place easily yesterday, then he could get my phone number in the blink of an eye.
The back door opened slowly and my blood ran cold as Luciano stepped out.
He looked like midnight had dressed him with his black coat, black gloves and black expression.
In between the window, our eyes locked. And instantly, as if something in me was being prophetic, I knew what he was coming for.
Immediately, I shook my head and said, "No...no, no, no-"
He lifted a hand in a calm, steady manner. It was a gesture saying 'come here'.
But I couldn't move.
Another text buzzed in my hand. I turned to look at the message: He can't protect you forever.
My breath froze as I read the message.
Luciano's jaw flexed when he saw my pale face, the shaking in my hands.
"Bella," he said from the doorway of the car, his voice low and dangerous even through the distance, "get in."
"I-I don't-"
"Now."
Fear surged through me. But not of him but
of whatever had broken into my home, had stolen my laptop and had sent those messages.
Whatever he meant when he said trouble had my name.
I swallowed hard, heart pounding so violently it hurt.
Then I grabbed my coat, shoved my keys into my pocket, and stepped outside.
The cold slapped me hard even as I noticed that his men were not around.
Luciano held the car door open. His gray eyes were no longer unreadable and they were holding something far worse. It was something I didn't want to think about.
I hesitated only a second.
Then I climbed in.
I didn't look back.
I couldn't.
Because somehow, I knew
I wasn't stepping into danger.
I was already in it.
And Luciano Moretti...
He was the only one who knew why.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
7.6
She was the heir of a criminal syndicate, bred to command the underworld.
For seven years she loved the wrong man, serving his family and building their fortune. Her payment was betrayal-his affair with her best friend.
During her three-year coma, he hissed, "Don't wake up."
They carried on at her bedside, then plotted her death to steal the company. She woke anyway and shattered them, rattling high society as a mafia heir and lethal fighter who ran the black-market economy.
He begged. She kicked him aside and chose the man who'd waited a decade-the world's top arms dealer. "I'm yours."
8.1
My fiancé, the ruthless Mafia Underboss, tore my dead mother's necklace from my throat and fastened it around another woman's neck.
"Diana needs it," Arthur said, his eyes cold. "My blood remembers loving her. It calms her anxiety."
He was referring to the bone marrow transplant that saved his life. Diana was connected to the donor, and Arthur believed his new blood made him belong to her.
I became a ghost in my own home, forced to watch him crown a usurper.
When Diana faked a fall at a gala, accusing me of pushing her, Arthur didn't hesitate. He decided to "discipline" me publicly to teach me respect.
He raised the whip.
"Arthur, please, I'm pregnant!" I screamed, shielding my stomach.
"Don't lie to me," he spat, and the lash came down.
I lost our baby on that cold marble floor in a pool of blood. He didn't believe me. He stepped over my body to take Diana to dinner.
He didn't stop there. He let my grandmother die in the ER to tend to Diana's bruised nose. He even dug up my grandmother's grave because Diana wanted the view for a garden.
I finally fled, vanishing into the night.
It wasn't until months later, when he found the autopsy report of our unborn child and the toxicology results proving Diana had been drugging him, that the fog lifted.
He tracked me down to a small town, where I was finally healing with a good man.
The feared Underboss fell to his knees in the pouring rain, holding the whip he had used on me, shaking violently.
"Beat me, Ella," he begged, tears mixing with the mud. "Hurt me. Make us even."
I looked at the monster I used to love and dropped his ring into the dirt.
"You can't bring back the dead, Arthur," I whispered. "And you are dead to me."
9.6
When the boy I had loved in silence for five years dropped to one knee and proposed to the very girl who had bullied me, the entire room burst into laughter at my expense.
"That fat, ugly Lydia Prescott actually thinks she has a shot with a mafia boss?"
In a single night, I became the city's favorite punchline. I fled in humiliation.
The next time I appeared, I had transformed. The weight was gone, and so was the ridicule. I stunned everyone into silence.
Miles Calloway begged through tears for another chance, but I simply slipped my arm through the arm of the mafia godfather beside me and smiled.
"Sorry. I'm married."
The man rumored to be cold-blooded and untouchable pulled me closer and declared with chilling certainty, "Lydia is my wife."
The room erupted.
Only my best friend, Annie Sinclair, gasped, "Lydia, you seriously locked down my dad?"
7.4
As a princess who could not wield magic, Princess Daphne's only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne was kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realized that she was in over her head.
She had heard of these cursed mountains before― rocky terrain, freezing temperatures, and the land was ruled by a man feared by many within the continent.
King Atticus Heinvres, the blood-thirsty ruler of the North.
Even though she had never met him before, tales were spread of King Atticus's ruthlessness. Some said he was a monster, others claimed he was the devil himself, but whatever the story was, everyone knew of the man who had powers beyond anyone's imagination. He could topple armies and crumble nations with just one wave of his hand, aided by what others rumored to be a cursed obsidian ring.
No one outside of Vramid had ever met the fearsome king before. Not until Daphne.
However, upon meeting the formidable man, Daphne found out that the king might not really be the monster others had claimed him to be.
In fact, what was hidden under that obsidian shield could just be a diamond in the rough.
―
[Excerpt]
"Now... where should I put you both?" he asked casually, not expecting a reply. "It's regretful that I only have one chandelier."
"Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don't deserve this," Atticus mused to himself. "The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over... Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?"
"Atticus!" Daphne screamed. "I don't want any heads! Let them go."
"Fair enough." Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.
There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.
Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.
"I told you to let them go!" Daphne cried out.
"Yes, I let them go," Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. "To receive divine judgment from the heavens."
7.6
I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it."
7.6
I was the Harrington family's only son, forced to play a deadly game of shadows in the brutal underworld of Chicago. After a meeting with the Falcones left me poisoned and broken, my car was run off the road in a calculated hit.
I crawled from the wreckage, bloodied and desperate, only to find Damien Cobb, the city's untouchable Don, looming over me with a gun pressed to my temple. He didn't see a victim; he saw a pawn to be crushed.
My jacket was ripped, my secret bindings nearly exposed, and my life hung by a thread. I managed to talk my way out of the execution, but the humiliation was absolute. When I returned home, the nightmare followed, haunting my sleep with the cold steel of a blade against my throat.
The world saw Alessandro Harrington, a man, but the truth was a fragile secret I guarded with my life. I was surrounded by predators who smelled my fear and mistook my silence for weakness. Why was I the target of their cruelty, and how could I keep my family safe when my very existence was a lie waiting to be unraveled?
Enough was enough. I wouldn't be the prey anymore. I stood in the mirror, adjusting my shirt, and made a choice: I would stop hiding and start hunting. The dockworkers' strike was my opening, and I would use it to bring the untouchable Don to his knees.