Claimed by Her Mafia Man by Sam Crescent

Randy placed a hand on her arm, comforting her.

She wanted to leave, but of course, there was the reception. Her cook had been ordered to serve only the best. She’d have waiters and waitresses who would know the score and wouldn’t run their mouths off about who they worked for.

After a long enough time had passed, men and women started to step back. She didn’t.

“Bella, we’re going to have to go,” Randy said.

“I will leave when I want to.” She stayed at her father’s graveside. He was laid next to her mother and brother.

She imagined he was finally at peace, meeting them, if he was even allowed to join them. Maybe her mother was all alone up there, and her brother and father were in hell. That was where she’d join them.

Unlike her mother, she had blood on her hands. Killing had become easy to her. She wasn’t alone.

Damon, the monster, still stood by the graveside. Her father had said that he was a cold man, and to be wary around him.

She’d never let her guard down. Not after the last time, when she thought she could trust a young soldier and instead, she’d ended up slicing his throat.

Hands clasped together, Randy took a step back, keeping his distance.

Seconds passed and she wanted Damon to be gone. To leave. To let her mourn her father’s loss in peace. He seemed determined to do whatever the hell he wanted, and she hated him for it. He didn’t leave. Instead, the nerve of the man, he moved closer as if he had a right to.

Ignoring him, she stared at her father’s name, wondering what it was like to not care, to not think, to not feel, to just simply be gone, to not exist at all. All the pain and loneliness would be gone.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Damon said.

She turned to the man who wouldn’t respect proper protocol. “And you couldn’t wait until the reception?”

“I’m not going to bore you when everyone will want to know who you’re going to pick as a husband, Isabella.”

“Miss Drago.”

“You won’t be that for long. You know that, and so did your father.”

“Do not speak about him.”

“I liked your father, Isabella. I respected him. It’s why I saw him several weeks before his death.”

She frowned. She was aware of her father taking meetings, just not with who. Glancing behind her, she noticed Randy nodding his head, confirming this man wasn’t lying. “What would my father have to talk about with a Romano?”

Damon smiled. There was a scar down his right cheek. She’d heard tales that he’d gotten it during his first fight where he killed three men, where all of them were sliced and diced. He’d chopped them up with a single cleaver. Again, she never listened to rumors and would believe it when she saw it, not that she was hoping to see something so awful any time soon. Far from it.

The only thing she wanted right now was to be left alone. Her father had left her a file, all of which had the necessary information for her to take his place.

“You’re twenty-two years old.”

“Well done, you know my age,” she said.

“I love your cocky attitude, but to many, they will see it as a personal threat to their manhood. I know what your father did to you, how you’re not like many. But I also know to a lot of the Family, you’re no longer a prize catch. Your virginity is of course intact, and that is still of high value to them, but you’re not young. Your father has damaged your reputation.”

“Will you spare me the doom-on-you speech? My father is dead. I’m aware of a great many things. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got matters to attend to, and it’s not listening to you tell me just how little of a prize I am.”

She turned on her heel and left. What she really wanted to do was kill him, to hit out, to hurt, to annihilate. Her father had left her alone in a world she wanted nothing to do with. She’d rather burn it all to the ground, but now, she was going to have to play all their games.

Finding a husband would be at the top of the list, she had no doubt.

“Are you okay?” Randy asked.

“Yes.” Deep down inside, she was screaming at him to take her away, to stop her from feeling this. Her father was gone. She was all that was left of her family and she couldn’t break down. People were always watching, checking for weakness and she’d be damned if she let any of them take what was rightly hers.


Damon entered Drago’s insanely large mansion. The last time he’d seen the old man, he’d boasted of the place having twenty-five rooms, all with an en-suite, separate serving quarters, and several gardens, as well as a swimming pool, a gym, and of course a basement for all torturing needs.