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Mafia Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Too Late, Mafia Don: I Am Free

Too Late, Mafia Don: I Am Free

For three years, I surrendered my nights and bartered my own prospects to build a flawless legitimate business empire for my fiancé, Domenico, the most feared heir in the mafia syndicate. But as I was finishing the final ledger to secure his seat as Don, a flight confirmation popped up on his phone. He had booked two first-class tickets to a high-level mafia summit in Sicily—for himself and Lyla, the girl who had been actively trying to destroy my life. When Domenico walked into the room, he didn't explain. Instead, he complained I was working too slowly. He used the threat of breaking our arranged marriage as a leash, demanding I finish his work. Lyla rushed in, playing the innocent victim, and Domenico immediately wrapped a comforting arm around her waist. He looked at me with cold, vacant eyes and issued his final ultimatum. "Apologize to her, and know your place, or you will be nothing to the Family." His soldiers sneered, waiting eagerly for me to crawl back and beg for the future Don's favor. I stared at the arrogant man I had sacrificed my youth for. The dutiful beat of my heart, which had hammered out a rhythm for him alone, simply went still. The great, heavy anchor of my loyalty dissolved into a strange weightlessness. I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly stood up, walked over to the industrial shredder, and fed every single page of his commercial blueprint into the blades. "The betrothal is dead," I told him, watching his future turn to confetti. "I owe neither of you a single word."
From Mafia Wife to Rival's Queen

From Mafia Wife to Rival's Queen

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."
Regretful Don: The Queen You Threw Away

Regretful Don: The Queen You Threw Away

I was the Gold-Tier Fixer of the syndicate, promised to the lethal Underboss, Dante. We had bled on the same battlefields to conquer the eastern seaboard. But ever since he took in his new mentee, Mia, I became invisible. For three years, he canceled our Mafia Blood Oath seventeen different times to be by her side. On our third engagement anniversary, he rushed home at noon not to see me, but to grab a bespoke diamond necklace for Mia's birthday. When he finally returned late at night, he tossed a cheap, last-minute duplicate purse on my table. "I need you to step down from your position as Gold-Tier Fixer and give the title to Mia," he said, his voice laced with absolute entitlement. "Let her have it." Before I could even respond, Mia called about a minor security issue, and he immediately headed for the door, swearing we would finally take our vows the next morning. I stared at the two identical bags sitting untouched in my closet, realizing every gift he ever gave me was thoughtless garbage compared to the treasures he showered on her. I had spent eight years smelling of unscented soap just to please him, yet he let the heavy scent of Mia's roses soak right into his collar. I was a fool squandering my talents on a man who had already buried our vows. The next morning, I didn't go to the sanctuary. I dropped my resignation papers on the Capo's desk, permanently blocked Dante's number, and boarded a one-way flight to Paris. This time, I chose to build an empire for myself.