A Devil's Deal With Mafia Tycoon
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
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Chapter 6
His hands slid into his pockets as he looked at me, his shoulders shifting with the movement and showing a hint of the cut muscles underneath. "Are you inviting me inside, sweetheart?"
My entire body came alive at the prospect, the first rush of excitement I'd felt in months. Once I'd found out about Adrien's infidelity, I'd fallen into a depression so deep, it didn't have a bottom. But I stopped my fall and gripped the ledge, prepared to begin the climb back up. "Yes."
A smile didn't move across his face as I expected. It was the first time he looked at me like an opponent rather than an equal, with an unequivocal expression of warning in his steel-like gaze. "If you let me into your apartment, I'll throw your ass on the bed. I'll choke you. I'll spank you so hard my handprint will still be on your ass in the morning. You've been warned." He continued his stare, pulling off that statement in a way no other man ever could, and it had the intended effect because I was both scared-and fucking turned on.
So turned on, I had bumps on my arms, felt my mouth go dry, and sensed a throb down below. I held up my phone to the screen to scan the code so the door would unlock. I opened it, the hinges screaming from the weight, and then I looked at him. "Let's see if you're a man of your word."
The second the apartment door was shut behind us, he was on me, pinning me against the wall in the hallway, pushing up my top and bra so my tits would come out. He gripped my ass with his big hands and lifted me, my back to the wall, and he sealed his mouth over mine for a kiss that nearly ripped my soul from my body.
He could hold me with a single arm because he seemed like he must lift tractors in the gym. He didn't slide his free hand into my hair but gripped one of my tits, squeezed it hard, and he flicked his thumb over my nipple, kissing me at the same time, a kiss that took the lead as I followed.
I grabbed his shirt and started to pull it over his head, having a hard time getting it off because he was all over me, kissing me so deeply I lost my train of thought, his hand squeezing my tit so hard I almost released a yelp. He was too into me to care about his clothing, so it took another tug to get it over his head and reveal what was underneath.
"Jesus Christ..." He was built. He was ripped. He had the single sexiest physique I'd ever seen-and I'd slept with some hot guys. He was so tight that cords on his body popped everywhere. I could see the definition of every muscle, the details of his body underneath the skin, the muscles hard enough to be armor. He had ink over his skin, black ink that showed death and misery and darkness, but it only enhanced just how hot he was. "You're so fucking hot-"
His mouth silenced my words with another kiss as he pinned me against the wall, his hand squeezing my ass through my jeans. He carried me down the hallway into the bedroom, the foot of the bed visible from the doorway. Just as he promised, he fucking threw me on the mattress.
I landed and rolled onto my stomach, my hair flipping into my face.
He grabbed my ankles and dragged me toward him before he gripped my jeans and started to tug, not even bothering to unbutton them first. He chose brute force over inconvenience and continued to tug, taking my thong with it because my clothing was skintight.
He got my bottoms to the backs of my knees then bit me right on the ass.
I released a gasp mixed with a quiet scream.
He bit my other cheek before he tugged again.
I let out another scream, louder this time because he bit me harder.
He yanked off my shoes then got my jeans and thong off before he spread my cheeks with his hands and kissed my pussy, his nose in my ass, sucking with the same force as when he'd bit me, making my body twitch and writhe from the unexpected pleasure.
"Tell me you're on the pill." He stood up and dropped his pants and boxers.
I looked over my shoulder, my eyes immediately on his forklift of a dick. I stared and stared, seeing the veins run from base to tip, the fat dick that would have to ram its way inside me if it wanted to fill me. "IUD." It was all I could get out at the moment, seeing the sexiest man ever at the foot of my bed, with a dick that could support an Olympic medal around its base.
"Good." His knees hit the bed, and he smacked me with his palm, hit me hard on the right ass cheek.
I let out a gasp from the hit. "Fuck."
He smacked me again, harder this time.
"God..."
He grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them against my lower back before he smacked the other ass cheek, the hardest strike of the three.
"Fuck."
"Look at those handprints." He kept his grip on my wrists and kissed my cheeks, dragging his tongue over the inflamed skin in apology. His mouth returned to the place where I throbbed most, and he kissed me there, still aggressive but purposeful, like he really wanted to make me wet for his entrance.
I breathed through the pleasure, fighting the grip he had on my wrists every few seconds, my spine arched to accommodate the way he held me. The sting on my cheeks mixed with the bliss between my legs, and the result was a perfect mix of pain and pleasure. My senses were on fire, and now the sensation of every touch was magnified tenfold.
He released my wrists and moved over me, the bottom of his chest against my back and his dick right in the crack of my ass. He ground against me, his mouth coming close to my ear. "I'm gonna fuck this pussy-and I'm gonna come inside this pussy." He continued to grind against me, pushing my pelvis into the bed and providing a bit of friction against my clit. He gave me a couple seconds to resist his intentions.
I didn't want to resist them. "Are you clean?"
"Always."
He didn't ask me if I was clean before he put it in, before he pushed his massive head through my entrance and sank deep inside, breathing a sigh of satisfaction when he felt how slick I was, how slick I'd become the first moment I saw him.
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9.3
Alyssa Gregory slept with Benton Steele, a recently disgraced and bankrupt heir, just to humiliate him.
She threw a massive check at his bare chest, treating the former prince of Wall Street like a cheap escort.
But Benton didn't take the charity.
Instead, he manipulated her anger, tricking her into signing an ironclad contract that surrendered absolute control of her entire trust fund to him.
When her abusive mother found out she had funded a penniless outcast, she slapped Alyssa across the face.
Her mother froze all her bank accounts, locked her inside her bedroom, and arranged to sell her off to a degenerate politician.
Desperate to escape, Alyssa climbed down her balcony, falling fifteen feet and shattering her ankle on the stones below.
Stripped of her money and freedom, she dragged her broken body to a VIP club just to publicly declare that Benton belonged to her.
She thought she was the boss, playing a rebellious game with a broken man.
But when Benton effortlessly carried her away from the club and locked her inside his rundown apartment, the terrifying calculation in his dark eyes shattered her illusion.
How could a man stripped of his entire empire still radiate such suffocating, violent power?
"You bought me," Benton whispered, his massive frame trapping her against the sofa. "That means I have to take care of you."
Physically trapped and completely broke, Alyssa stared into his consuming eyes, her mind racing to find a way to turn the tables.
9.7
For three years, I endured being treated like a walking ATM and a maid by my husband's family, biting my tongue to keep the peace.
Then, my husband's buddy suddenly dropped off a nine-year-old boy at my front door.
The crumpled note from my husband casually explained it was his illegitimate son, blaming me for being barren and demanding I raise the kid as our own.
My mother-in-law was absolutely thrilled, parading the boy around as the true heir at the dinner table.
"Some trees just don't bear fruit, no matter how much water you give them," she sneered.
My brother-in-law cheered, and my drunk father-in-law demanded I cook a feast to celebrate.
They actually expected me to continue paying the mortgage, buying the groceries, and cleaning up their endless messes, all while raising the living proof of my husband's betrayal.
I looked at the parasites who had drained me dry for years, acting like they were doing me a favor by letting me stay in a house that my money paid for.
I didn't scream, and I didn't cry.
I simply called my lawyer to file for an immediate divorce, froze every single bank account and credit card they relied on, and drove off to my grandmother's secluded cabin in the woods.
Let them see how long they survive without my money.
9.1
Elise thought her life was finally falling into place. She turned down her father's company to work as executive assistant to Marcus Grey-the boy she's loved since childhood, now the powerful CEO she's devoted her life to.
But when Marcus proposes to another woman, Elise's world crumbles. Enter Sebastian Deluca-Marcus's tattooed, ruthless, long-estranged brother. He's everything Marcus isn't: dangerous, magnetic, and determined to take back his place in New York.
But, there's something odd about him.
Something changed since he arrived.
Bound by family secrets and a mutual desire to expose Marcus's fiancée, Elise and Sebastian form an uneasy alliance. But as sparks ignite between them, Elise must choose: remain loyal to the boy she thought she loved, or risk everything for the man who sees her as more than a shadow.
Some loves are safe. Others are consuming. Which one will she survive?
9.6
Minutes before announcing her grand engagement, Darla caught her fiancé sleeping with her stepsister.
She publicly exposed them and canceled the wedding on the spot.
Furious, her adoptive mother demanded Darla marry a fifty-five-year-old predator to save their broken business deal.
"If you don't do exactly what I say, I'll let your father rot in prison for the rest of his life."
Desperate to escape her family's control, Darla grabbed a massive, intimidating hotel security guard she bumped into in the hallway.
She shoved all the cash in her purse at him—eight hundred dollars—and begged him to fake-marry her.
They signed the papers at City Hall that same day.
But the nightmare didn't end.
That evening, Darla received a cold phone call from the state penitentiary.
Her father had been found dead in his cell, and her company, owned by her ex-fiancé's family, fired her immediately.
They had taken everything from her, leaving her completely broken and sobbing on the floor of her tiny apartment.
She thought she had nothing left but a broke, fake husband to keep her company.
She had no idea that the "poor security guard" holding her in his arms was actually Anson Prince, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And he was already making the calls to tear her abusers' empires to the ground.
8.5
Alexandrea woke up with a splitting headache in a strange hotel bed, terrified to find a brutally handsome, half-naked stranger beside her.
Before she could even scream, the door burst open. Her adoptive mother, Ivette, stormed in with a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras.
"How could you disgrace our family name like this?"
Ivette sobbed, putting on a theatrical performance of a heartbroken mother. It was a setup to completely ruin Alexandrea's reputation in front of New York's elite.
For ten years, Alexandrea had lived in a house of horrors. Her back and arms were covered in silvery scars and puckered cigarette burns left by Ivette's vicious abuse.
Yet to the public, Ivette had carefully crafted Alexandrea's image as a wild, ungrateful, and manipulative liar.
Trapped under the duvet, Alexandrea was drowning in shame, her voice lost in the storm of accusations.
She didn't understand why her adoptive family hated her so much, treating her worse than a stray dog while using her brother's future to keep her chained.
But what she understood even less was the stranger beside her.
Instead of panicking, the man slowly sat up, his presence alone silencing the frantic room. He was Ace Griffith, the billionaire heir who owned half of Manhattan.
He wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling shoulders, looked Ivette dead in the eye, and dropped a bomb.
"I will be marrying her."
Then, he carried Alexandrea away from her ten-year prison, ordering his men to dig up the Terry family's darkest secrets and her true identity.
7.9
On my wedding day, my fiancé Connor received an urgent phone call.
He told me a D-list actress had broken her leg on set, then abandoned me right at the altar.
In my past life, I cried until my throat bled, begging him not to leave.
But my tears only brought endless humiliation. My mother and adopted sister mocked me, framed me, and forged my signature to steal my multi-million dollar trust fund.
They kicked me out of the family estate without a single dime.
I ended up freezing to death in the minus-twenty-degree New York blizzard, listening to my mother's voicemail telling me to die in the street as long as I didn't bleed on her carpets.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why my own blood relatives hated me so much, yet treated an adopted daughter like a precious princess.
The only person who showed me any mercy—draping his wool coat over my frozen corpse and giving me a proper burial—was Connor's ruthless, untouchable uncle, Harding Snow.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in the bridal suite, right as Connor was rushing out the door.
This time, I didn't shed a single tear.
I let him run to his actress, then walked straight into the VIP room to face the most feared billionaire on Wall Street.
"The wedding proceeds as planned, but the groom's name changes to yours."