Dark Possession: Bound To The Mafia Don
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
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Chapter 4
Fernando's POV
I leaned back in my chair, swirling the deep red wine in my glass as my maid, Emilia, carefully lifted another forkful of food to my lips.
I parted them just slightly, letting her slip the tender piece of meat inside. I chewed slowly, savoring the flavors.
It was a good meal-perfectly cooked and seasoned just right.
Yet, the presence of the man standing before me was ruining my appetite.
"Boss, I swear I don't know how it happened," Marlo stammered, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
His voice grated on my nerves, filled with desperation, regret, and the kind of blind devotion that bored me.
I raised a hand, stopping Emilia from feeding me the next bite. My sharp gaze lifted to Marlo, and he visibly flinched.
I sighed.
"Marlo."
"Yes, Boss?"
I set my glass down with deliberate slowness.
"Are you aware that I despise incompetence?"
"Yes, Boss." He bowed his head.
"And yet," I continued, my tone smooth but sharp as a blade, "here you are, in my dining room, telling me that you've lost something important."
Marlo swallowed.
"I-I didn't lose it, Boss. I must have left it in my room."
I cocked my head.
"Then retrieve it."
His face turned red.
"That's the thing, Boss. I looked everywhere. It's gone."
My fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished wooden table.
My irritation was growing, but something about this situation piqued my interest.
"Gone," I echoed. "So someone took it?"
Marlo hesitated, then nodded.
"That's what I think, Boss."
A slow smile curled my lips.
"And tell me, Marlo... who was the last person in your room?"
He fidgeted, hesitating before answering.
"Michael, Boss."
Ah.
I leaned forward slightly, folding my hands together, intrigued.
Michael.
The quiet, unassuming new recruit I had barely noticed until last night, when I caught him sneaking out of Marlo's room like a guilty lover.
I had seen the way he froze when he met my gaze, the terror flashing through his eyes. I had felt his discomfort when I whispered into his ear, warning him never to overstep again.
And yet, here we were.
I hummed in amusement, my fingers drumming once against the table.
"So, Michael," I mused, tasting the name on my tongue. "Does our newest recruit have a delicious dark side?"
Marlo stiffened.
"Boss, Michael is-"
I silenced him with a look.
"Don't bore me with your defenses, Marlo. If the tag was last seen in your room, and Michael was the last person in there, then I have questions."
As if on cue, the grand doors to the dining hall opened, and two of my men stepped inside, dragging a man with them.
My smile widened.
Michael.
A big sack covered his head, his hands bound behind his back.
He wasn't struggling, which told me he was conscious. Good.
Excitement coursed through me as I gestured lazily with my hand.
"Remove it."
One of my men brought the bag off, and for a single moment, I was caught off guard.
Michael's eyes-burning, filled with pure hatred-locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a thrilling chill down my spine.
Ah.
It was gone in a flash, replaced by a polite, controlled expression, but I had seen it.
Interesting.
Michael blinked once, then licked his lips.
"Boss," he said smoothly, his voice betraying no emotion. "What's going on?"
I leaned back, pretending to consider him.
"That's what I'd like to know, Michael."
His jaw tensed slightly, but he remained composed.
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
I gestured toward Marlo without looking at him.
"It appears my dear Marlo has lost something very important to me."
Michael tilted his head, feigning confusion.
"Lost something?" he asked.
"Yes." I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table. "A tag. One that not only grants access to my very exclusive party tomorrow but also important rooms of my mansion."
Michael's expression didn't change. If he was nervous, he hid it well.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Boss. But I don't see what that has to do with me" he replied.
I smiled.
"Marlo says you were the last person in his room before it went missing and we both know that's true" I waited to see what expression would appear on his face.
A flicker of something passed through his eyes, but it was gone too fast for me to catch.
"I was in his room, yes. But only to ask him about work, like i said before" he replied.
I rolled my eyes. It seems he was still going to stick to his stupid excuse.
"Work," I repeated, amused. "Not to, let's say... indulge in more personal activities?"
Michael's lips thinned.
"No, Boss."
Liar.
I studied him, my amusement deepening.
He was good-very good at maintaining his composure. But I had been doing this for too long.
I knew when someone was hiding something.
I turned back to Marlo, who was still standing stiffly, awaiting my judgment. I sighed.
"Marlo, Marlo, Marlo. Do you know what I hate more than incompetence?" I asked.
Marlo swallowed.
"Lies, Boss?"
I grinned.
"Exactly."
Michael remained still as I turned my attention back to him.
"Tell me, Michael." I tapped a finger against the table. "Are you a liar?"
His eyes met mine, calm and unreadable.
"No, Boss."
I held his gaze for a long, silent moment. Then, finally, I let out a low chuckle.
"Well," I said, leaning back again, "I suppose we'll find out."
Michael remained silent, waiting.
I tapped my chin, pretending to think.
"Marlo's carelessness is unfortunate. He should be punished for losing something so important."
Marlo stiffened.
"Boss, please-"
I waved a hand, silencing him.
"But... I'm feeling generous." My gaze slid back to Michael, and a delicious idea formed in my mind.
A game.
A test.
I smiled.
"Michael, since you seem to be such a... helpful recruit, I have an offer for you."
Michael's expression remained carefully neutral.
"An offer?"
I nodded.
"Come to my party tomorrow."
Michael blinked.
"I-"
"Not as a guest, of course." I smirked. "You'll work as a server boy."
Michael's lips parted slightly, as if he hadn't expected that.
Interesting.
Then, something flashed in his eyes-just for a second.
Excitement?
Ah.
Now that was intriguing.
Michael quickly masked his expression and gave a respectful nod.
"Of course, Boss. I'd be honored."
I studied him.
"Would you?"
"Yes."
I let the silence stretch, savoring the moment.
Then, finally, I grinned.
"Good."
Michael inclined his head.
"Thank you, Boss."
I watched him carefully, my curiosity growing.
Who are you really, Michael?
What secrets are you hiding?
And more importantly...
Why do I want to find out?
As Michael was escorted out of the dining hall, my smirk widened.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
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8.6
"What do you think people would say if they found out you don't have a dick?" Christian asked, his voice low and dripping with seduction. His hand pressed firmly against my crotch, fingers exploring the flat, unfamiliar emptiness there. A devilish smirk curved his lips. "Or if they discovered these voluptuous breasts you've been hiding so well?"
A strangled moan slipped from my throat as his hand slid under my shirt, his fingers brushing over my hardened nipples, teasing them with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Which do you think they'd call you?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "A boy with tits... or a dickless little fraud?"
I stared into his hungry blue eyes, words failing me.
"The term you're looking for is 'girl,'" came Xavier's smooth voice from the bathroom doorway. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, his gaze raking over me with open interest. "So tell me, little girl... what the hell is someone like you doing in an all-boys dorm?"
Christian's smirk widened. "She wants to be devoured by boys like us." His fingers gave my nipple one last firm pinch before he leaned in closer, breath hot against my ear. "And I'll be more than happy to give her a taste."
9.1
I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.
8.8
I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.
Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.
He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.
Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.
I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?
I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.
"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.
I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.
9.5
One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise.
Now, he is Caspian Blackwood-the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days.
The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It's for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?
9.6
When a global anomaly awakens dormant powers within them, a neuroscientist, a physicist, and an artist discover they are connected by a force that defies time itself. Mert sees the memories of strangers. Elena witnesses the fabric of reality crack. Kai paints symbols from a past he never knew. Thrown together by fate, they are not alone. Across the globe, others are awakening too-gifted with extraordinary abilities. But they are not the only ones. A powerful cabal-a ruthless financier, a tech mogul, and a charismatic influencer-sees the anomaly not as a warning, but as a weapon. Their ambition shatters the timeline, scattering the group across history: from the smog-choked streets of Victorian London to a transhumanist future, and into a terrifying parallel present. Broken into three teams, the group must hunt their enemies through time itself. To survive, they must master their new powers and forge bonds of love and loyalty strong enough to bend the laws of physics. Their final battle will not be fought in any single era, but at the crossroads of all realities, where the key to existence-the very heart of time-is at stake.
9.2
Chelsi was down to her last fourteen dollars. After a humiliating job rejection for being "too low-class," the threat of eviction forced her to try live-streaming. Terrified of her exhausted, tear-stained face, she cranked the AR beauty filter to the max, morphing into a bizarre plastic alien.
She was immediately dragged into a forced streaming battle with Kamron, the platform's most arrogant top streamer. Seeing her distorted filter, Kamron sneered, unleashing fifty thousand fans to flood her chat with toxic insults.
Kamron set a ruthless penalty for her inevitable loss.
"You're going to take a bar of soap, scrub your face completely clean, and shove your bare face right into the camera."
Desperate to keep the fifty dollars she had just earned for rent, Chelsi begged for a different punishment, but Kamron coldly refused. With her heart pounding, she walked to the freezing bathroom, her hands shaking as she scrubbed her skin raw, bracing for the cyberbullying.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling utterly humiliated by the cruelty of the internet. Why did she have to be stripped of her dignity just to survive? She clicked off the filter, waiting for the tidal wave of disgust to destroy her.
But the insults never came. The high-definition camera revealed a breathtakingly delicate, flawless face that no algorithm could ever replicate. The chat went dead silent, Kamron was so stunned he dropped a ten-thousand-dollar virtual yacht, and a silent war between two mysterious billionaires was about to begin.