Best Mafia Novels

She married the devil. Then she divorced him. Now she carries his child. All Isabella Lorenzo wanted was to protect her family, and she thought marrying the ruthless and feared Luca Moretti... heir to the Moretti crime empire would be enough, but she was wrong. Instead of protection, her father was brutally executed and her heart left shattered in a million pieces. Two years later, she has managed to move on from the past and rebuild her life in the shadows. Every feeling of emotion was buried in her past, but they soon reignite after a reckless night with a masked stranger... a stranger that happens to be Luca Moretti. Now she's pregnant, and Luca will do anything to get her back. But forgiveness is not something that exists in her heart anymore... will she be able to fully heal, or will her urge for revenge burn everything down?

What if your next filthy favorite story started with a moan... and ended with "Yes, Daddy"? Then take a deep breath... •ON MY KNEES, DADDY• is ready to leave you soaked, breathless, and aching for more. This is a raw, erotic collection of dominant men who don't ask-they take. And their submissives? Oh, they beg. They kneel. They come apart, over and over. Inside, you'll find stories that cross every line: hotel-room threesomes, forbidden stepdaddy fantasies, one-night stands, rough office sex, taboo roleplay, and the kind of dirty stories that will have your thighs clenched and your fingers wandering. Warning: These pages drip with sin. Read in private, or get caught dripping. 18+ only.

I posted a photo of baby shoes to celebrate my pregnancy. Two hours later, my husband was holding jumper cables. Kaeden, the Mafia Capo who swore to protect me, stood under the buzzing fluorescent lights of the basement. He didn't look like the man who brought me vanilla lattes. He looked like a monster. His "fragile" childhood friend, Clemmie, had convinced him that my innocent post was a signal to our enemies. "Discipline," Kaeden muttered, refusing to look at my weeping face. "She needs to learn the cost of her voice." He ordered low voltage—just enough to scare me. But the moment he walked out the door, unable to watch, Clemmie smiled. "He's not coming back for you," she whispered. She cranked the dial all the way to the right. She didn't just want to teach me a lesson. She wanted to stop my heart so she could harvest it for herself. And my husband had already signed the release forms. But they made one mistake. They left the cleanup to Alois, the family's most ruthless Enforcer. He didn't bury me. He saved me. Now, while Kaeden cries over a fake grave, consumed by guilt, I am watching from the shadows. Daria Burris died in that chair. The woman who survived is coming for blood.

My fiancé left me standing alone at the podium during our rehearsal dinner to rush to the side of a woman whose only illness was a desperate need for attention. He humiliated me in front of the heads of the Five Families, abandoning our alliance to scoop his "dying" mistress off the floor. I didn't cry. I didn't run. I walked straight to the head table, to the most terrifying man in the city—his older brother, the Don. "The Woodward family owes me a husband," I declared calmly. An hour later, I was married to the Capo dei Capi. But my ex-fiancé didn't accept his demotion. He kidnapped me, strapping me to a chair in a soundproof basement. For three days, he drained my blood pint by pint to "save" his mistress, Jaidyn, who watched me fade while she casually ate an apple. "Take another bag," she ordered, smiling at my agony. "She still has too much fight in her." As the cold crept up my chest and my vision blurred, I realized I was going to die for a lie, drained dry by a madman. Then, the steel door detonated. Through the smoke and debris walked my husband, not with a ransom, but with a serrated knife and a promise to burn them alive.

On my wedding night, while unbuttoning my new husband's shirt, I found a fresh tattoo over his heart. A bold, jagged letter 'C'. It stood for Caren—my best friend, the girl I had raised from the servant's quarters like a sister. Jameson was the Prince of Philadelphia, and our marriage was a blood pact between mafia families. But looking at that ink, I realized he had already signed a different contract with the help. The betrayal didn't stop at infidelity. Weeks later, Caren crashed a family dinner with a "peace offering"—a cake laced with peanuts. She knew I was deathly allergic. As my throat closed up and I clawed at Jameson for the EpiPen in my purse, he didn't move. He stood there and watched me turn blue. For three eternal seconds, he hesitated, weighing the life of his mistress against the life of his wife. He wanted me to die so he wouldn't have to expose her. But I didn't die. I woke up in the hospital with the Dons of both families standing over me, waiting for an explanation. Jameson begged me with his eyes to keep his secret, whispering that he loved me and our unborn heir. I didn't cry. I simply connected my phone to the speaker and played the recording of him mocking me with Caren. Then, I looked at the man who had hesitated to save my life. "There is no heir, Jameson," I said, my voice cold as ice. "I removed it. I will not incubate the legacy of a traitor."

I was tightening my husband’s tie for the photographers at the gala when my phone buzzed against my thigh. A single notification stopped my heart dead. Julius had just wired five million dollars—capital I had secretly stolen from my father to build his company—to an account named 'K. Drake'. When I confronted him later that night, he didn't apologize. Instead, he lured me to an empty warehouse and detonated a rigged gas line. I woke up in a hospital bed, my body broken and my mind racing. Julius stood over me, checking his watch, looking terrifyingly calm. "The baby is gone," he said dismissively, referring to the pregnancy I hadn't even told him about yet. "But Kenzie needs a bone marrow transplant. You're a match." He was holding our daughter, Ava, hostage. He told me if I didn't give his mistress my marrow, I’d never see my child again. He looked at me with total contempt. To him, I was just a boring, civilian housewife. A prop he had used and was now ready to discard. He had no idea who I really was. He didn't know that the "bank loans" I secured for him were actually laundered syndicate money. He didn't know that the father I "didn't talk to" was Horacio Horton, the most feared Don on the East Coast. I let them take the marrow. I let them believe they had broken me. Then, as soon as Julius left the room, I reached for the phone and dialed a number I hadn't used in ten years. "Papa," I whispered into the receiver. "Send the army." The civilian Florence died in that bed. The Mob Princess had just returned to take her throne.