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Mafia Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don

Married to the Billionaire Mafia Don

"You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly. Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!" "You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now." "Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him. Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly. "I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly. She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud. "Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!" "You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine." "I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!" Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked. Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly. Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..." "I can't," he whispered. And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her. *************** Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark. But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den. The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows. Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive. Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down?
His Discarded Wife Was The Real Boss

His Discarded Wife Was The Real Boss

I spent fifteen years building my husband's mafia empire, coding the complex algorithms that washed his blood money clean. But on my thirty-fifth birthday, instead of a gift, I received a photo of his hand resting on another woman's thigh. When I confronted him, Dustin didn't apologize. He brought his pregnant mistress, Jami, into our penthouse and told me to accept the hush money. "You have nothing except what I give you," he sneered, treating me like a slow servant rather than the mastermind behind his success. The argument turned violent. He shoved me hard, sending me crashing into a solid oak nightstand. As I lay on the floor, bleeding and dizzy from a split forehead, I watched the man I loved step over my body to comfort the woman wearing my mother's stolen heirloom ring. He didn't check my pulse. He didn't call for help. He looked at me with pure disgust and turned his back. In that moment, the wife died, and the witness was born. He thought I was powerless because I had no assets in my name. He thought I would fade away quietly. He forgot one crucial detail: I wasn't just the furniture in his castle. I was the architect. Every server, every encrypted drive, every hidden account—I owned the code. I wiped the blood from my face and walked out the door, but I didn't go to a lawyer. I went to a hardware store and bought a ten-pound sledgehammer. I wasn't going to just leave him. I was going to delete him.
Locked in the Glass Sunroom

Locked in the Glass Sunroom

At eight months pregnant, I was locked inside the sweltering glass sunroom of my own estate. My husband's "sweet" adopted sister, Sophie, stood in the cool air on the other side, sipping ice water as she watched the midday sun bake me alive. When I shattered the glass to escape, my husband—a ruthless syndicate boss—finally returned. Sophie immediately dropped to the floor, faking tears and claiming I had gone mad and attacked her. Without a word of concern for my bleeding feet or my frantic pleas for a doctor, Dominic dragged me down to a windowless basement cell. "She needs to sweat this fever out of her." He turned the heat up to a scorching roar and locked the heavy iron door. In that dark, roasting oven, I cramped and bled out on the concrete floor. I lost my baby, and my body was so traumatized I could never carry a child again. Lying in a pool of my own blood, the truth finally pierced through my blind gratitude. Dominic had staged the accident that brought us together just to infiltrate my family. He never loved me; he only wanted to steal my empire and replace me with his mistress once he thought my protective older brother was dead. With the last of my strength, I dipped my fingers into my blood and wrote "Vengeance" on the steel wall. Just then, an explosion shook the foundation, and the door was blown off its hinges. My brother, very much alive, stepped through the smoke.
The Jilted Bride's Secret Mafia King

The Jilted Bride's Secret Mafia King

Standing at the altar of St. Patrick's Cathedral, I waited to marry my wealthy fiancé in front of three hundred of New York's elite. But right before the vows, my phone vibrated in my bouquet. It was a text from my groom: he was backing out because my maid of honor—my supposed best friend—was pregnant with his child. Before the shock of this double betrayal could even settle, his mother dug her manicured claws into my arm and publicly humiliated me. "A woman who can't even attract her own man, how is she worthy of the Doyle name?" She mocked my background, calling me a worthless orphan who only knew how to draw blueprints, turning my broken heart into a public execution of my dignity. The terrified girl inside me vanished, replaced by a dark, burning rage. I didn't understand why I had to let this arrogant family step all over me while they played the innocent victims. I yanked my arm free, tore off my expensive lace veil, and walked straight to the podium to grab the microphone. "The wedding is canceled. The groom is currently busy with my maid of honor." I walked out of the church, leaving them in absolute shock. But as I stumbled onto the street, I fell right into the arms of Damiano Moretti—the exiled, dangerous mafia boss known as the Ghost, who sat in a custom wheelchair. Looking into his cold, storm-gray eyes, I made a reckless, desperate deal. "Marry me."
Pampered By The Ruthless Chicago Don

Pampered By The Ruthless Chicago Don

I was sold to Damien Russo, the ruthless Don of Chicago, as collateral in a shipping route transaction. I was expected to be a silent, obedient bride in a cold, loveless marriage. But the moment I stepped into the Russo estate, I realized my new family wanted to completely destroy me. My mother-in-law, Eleonora, and her arrogant relatives immediately targeted me. They set traps in the solarium, mocked my late mother's heritage, and tried to force me into humiliating submission using their strict mafia traditions. They wanted to break my spirit so Damien would replace me with the bride they actually wanted—a purebred mafia princess. They expected me to cower in fear, isolated and helpless, while the whole family watched my public humiliation and waited for my downfall. Did they really think I was just a fragile girl who would cry and run away? They completely underestimated the survival instincts of a woman who grew up in this bloody world. I learned long ago that tears are worthless. "My rules are simple. Vendetta is a two-way street." Instead of breaking, I smiled. I weaponized their own legendary ancestors and the sacred promise of an unborn heir to trap the Matriarch in her own rules, forcing her into a suffocating silence. If they wanted a war for the throne, I would gladly show them exactly why I am the undisputed Mafia Queen.