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My Husband's Secret Mafia Bride
My Husband's Secret Mafia Bride

My Husband's Secret Mafia Bride

9.4
/ 10
When mafia princess Salvatore discovers her husband Lorenzo Greco has been poisoning her while grooming his pregnant mistress to take her place, she doesn't file for divorce—she plans a funeral. Stripping him of his stolen empire with the help of the lethal man she was always meant to marry, she’s about to teach Lorenzo that some betrayals can only be washed away in blood.

My Husband's Secret Mafia Bride Summary

Three years ago, I made Lorenzo Greco an Underboss when I married him. Last night, I caught him slipping our family's diamond crown onto another woman's neck — a woman thirty-two weeks pregnant with the child I was told I could never have. He thought a Mafia princess wouldn't notice the wires he'd cut. The transfers he'd buried. The pills he'd been feeding me with my morning espresso. He forgot one thing. Salvatore women don't divorce traitors. We bury them. By dawn, his casinos lost their protection. By Friday, his bride-to-be will learn whose blood she really carries. And the man my father always meant for me to marry is finally coming home. Lorenzo wanted a son. I'll give him a funeral instead.
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Chapter 1 of My Husband's Secret Mafia Bride

"Rocco, line two," I said into the receiver.

"Signora Salvatore? It's two in the morning."

"The frequency alarm tripped."

"My boards show green. Everything is quiet."

"Check the analog bypass. The low-pitch sensor."

Keys clacked over the speaker. "Nothing on my end, boss. The house is locked down tight."

"I'm going down to the vault."

"Want me to send a detail with you?"

"No. Stay on the monitors."

I dropped the phone onto the mattress. The hum vibrated through the floorboards, a pitch designed specifically for the inner ear of a Salvatore bloodline member. I pushed out of bed. The marble floor bit into my bare feet as I walked out of the master suite.

The hallway stood empty. Thursday mornings were always dead quiet.

I took the spiral staircase down to the sub-level.

I punched my code into the keypad. The heavy steel door hissed open.

I stepped inside. The climate-controlled air washed over my skin.

I walked straight to the center pedestal.

The velvet display stand sat empty.

I pulled my cell from my pocket and hit speed dial.

"Rocco."

"Yeah, boss?"

"The diamond crown is gone."

"What? That’s impossible. The sensors didn't flag a breach."

"Pull the interior feed. Timestamp: last two hours."

"Pulling it now." A heavy silence stretched over the line. "Jesus."

"Who took it?"

"It's Julian."

I stared at the empty velvet. "My husband."

"He came in at one-twenty. Punched a code into the keypad."

"I never gave him a code."

"He used the alphanumeric sequence. He bypassed the secondary lock."

"He doesn't have security clearance for the sub-level."

"He must have cloned your master key fob," Rocco said. "The system registered your credentials."

"Send the footage to my tablet. Now."

The video file chimed into my inbox seconds later. I hit play.

Julian walked into the frame, wearing the dark suit he wore to dinner. He typed on the keypad, lifted the glass case, and took the crown. He didn't hesitate. He didn't look at the camera. He slipped the crown into a black bag and walked out.

"Did he leave the compound?" I asked.

"Gate logs show his car exited at one-thirty. Want me to track his plates?"

"No. I have a faster way."

"Signora, if he took a family relic, that's treason against the Don."

"I know the laws of my own family, Rocco."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Lock down the estate. Nobody enters. Nobody leaves."

My father, the Don, had a paranoid streak. When he gifted me the crown on my wedding day, he mentioned the custom modifications. A GPS tracker embedded deep inside the platinum base. Julian knew nothing about it.

I opened the tracking app on my phone. A red dot blinked on the map.

Moving south. Toward the coast.

I took the stairs two at a time. I grabbed my trench coat from the hallway hook and snatched the keys to the Aston Martin from the silver bowl.

I slid into the driver's seat and hit the ignition.

The engine roared to life. I sped out of the estate and merged onto the empty highway.

The tracker showed the crown had stopped at a coastal villa just before three.

I pressed the Bluetooth button on the steering wheel.

"Call Julian."

The line rang three times.

"Hey," his voice came through the speakers, smooth and completely awake.

"Did I wake you?" I asked.

"No. I'm at the office. We had a massive shipping issue at the docks. I've been handling logistics all night."

"The docks."

"Yeah. It's a mess down here." Muffled music played somewhere in his background. Pop music. Upbeat.

"Is that a stereo?"

"Warehouse radio. The crew is working overtime to clear the pallets."

"You sure you're at the docks?"

"Where else would I be at three in the morning?"

"I woke up. The bed was empty."

"I told you yesterday this shipment was going to be a headache. I didn't want to wake you when I left."

"You didn't leave a note."

"Rosa, I'm dealing with a crisis here. Two containers got flagged by customs. I'm trying to bribe the harbor master before the feds show up."

"Customs."

"Yes. Look, I need to get back to this. When will you be up?"

"I'm up now."

"Go back to sleep. I'll bring you coffee from that place you like on my way home. The one on 5th."

"You're going to drive all the way to 5th avenue?"

"For you? Always. I'll see you in the morning."

"Sure. See you then."

I ended the call. My fingers gripped the leather steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.

Five in the morning.

I eased the car onto the private driveway. I parked deep in the shadow of a massive palm tree and left the engine idling. I killed the headlights.

The two-story villa blazed with light. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a perfect view of the living room.

I sat in the driver's seat and watched.

A party.

Seven women stood in a circle, holding champagne flutes. In the center stood a woman in a tight red dress. Her pregnant belly pushed against the fabric.

And on her head sat the Salvatore diamond crown.

My jaw locked. The diamonds caught the chandelier light, flashing brilliant white and icy blue. The same diamonds my grandmother wore. The same diamonds meant only for the ruling women of our syndicate.

Julian stepped into the frame.

He walked up behind the woman in the red dress. He smiled, saying something to the group that made them laugh. Then he reached up. His hands adjusted the crown on her dark hair, making sure it sat perfectly straight.

He leaned down and kissed her pregnant belly.

The woman turned and kissed him on the mouth. He lingered, his hand resting on her hip.

I shifted my gaze to the back wall.

A massive banner hung across the plaster, spelled out in gold glitter balloons.

*Welcome Baby Caterina.*

Caterina. My grandmother's name.

I didn't reach for the door handle. I didn't make a sound.

I picked up my phone from the passenger seat. I opened my messages and tapped on Enzo's name. The family Consigliere.

I typed three words.

*Start the war.*

I hit send.

I locked the phone screen. The display lit up with my wallpaper—a photo of Julian and me on our wedding day. He was smiling at the camera. I was looking at him.

I flipped the phone over and dropped it face down onto the leather seat.

The heavy gold Salvatore family crest ring rested on my right index finger. It caught the faint glow of the dashboard instruments, flashing a cold, hard metallic light.

Inside the villa, another round of laughter erupted. Julian wrapped his arm around the pregnant woman's waist. Nobody looked out the window. Nobody knew I was there.

I shifted the car into reverse.

The tires crunched softly against the gravel. I backed out of the driveway, turned the wheel, and drove away into the dark.

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