IDNAPPED ON WEDDING DAY AND BONDED TO THE MAFIA KING
e didn't come to stop my wedding to Daniel. He came to claim me for himself.
One moment I was walking toward "I do" - toward Daniel, my safe, predictable future. Next, his men stormed the church, and I was dragged from the altar in my lace dress, veil torn, dreams shattered. I became the prize of the most dangerous man in the city.
Eric Moretti. The Mafia King. Cold eyes. Sinful mouth. Hands that have ended lives... and now own mine.
"Daniel can't protect you," he growled against my ear that first night, locking me in his penthouse. "He never could. But me, Seraphina? I'll owe you. Cherish you. Destroy anyone who looks at you twice. You're mine now."
I fought him. I screamed. I clawed.
He pinned my wrists above my head and showed me exactly what resistance costs.
But somewhere between the silk sheets and the dangerous midnight confessions, hate began to blur with something far more terrifying-need. His touch sets my skin on fire. His voice commands my pulse. And when he looks at me like I'm the only light in his dark world, I forget Daniel's name. I forget I was ever meant to be someone else's bride.
"I should let you go," he admits one night, lips trailing down my throat. "Send you back to your safe little life with Daniel. But I'm a selfish bastard. And you... You've gotten under my skin, Bella."
But in his world, love is a death sentence. Enemies circle. Betrayal festers. And when they come for him, they'll have to go through me-the bride who stopped being a captive the moment I chose to stay.
They say the Mafia King has no heart. They're wrong. He gave it to me-and I'll burn this city down before I let anyone take it from him.me to add more tension between Eric and Daniel, or make Daniel a bigger threat?
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Chapter 2
The Moretti estate was a fortress of glass and steel perched on the cliffs of the Hudson River. Armed guards patrolled the grounds, and the gates clanged shut behind us like the jaws of a beast. I was ushered into a bedroom that was a gilded cage of velvet and gold, plush carpets, a four-poster bed with silk sheets, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the turbulent river below. It was luxurious, but the door locked from the outside.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my breath coming in ragged gasps, the lace of my dress feeling like it was strangling me. My mind raced. Why me? What did Eric Moretti want with a woman like me? I was no one special, just the daughter of a failing businessman.
An hour later, Eric entered. He had discarded his jacket, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the corded muscles of his neck and a hint of dark tattoos snaking across his chest. He tossed a manila folder onto the duvet beside me.
"Read it, Seraphina. All of it."
I opened the file with trembling fingers. My world didn't just crack, it disintegrated. Inside were bank statements, photographs of Daniel at underground gambling dens run by the Volkov Syndicate, and finally, the contract.
The words blurred before my eyes. Daniel owed three million dollars in gambling debts. To settle it, he had pledged the Rossi family assets, and me.
"Upon the wedding night, the bride, Seraphina Rossi, shall be delivered to the Volkov Syndicate for a 'First Night' auction. Opening bid, two million dollars. Balance of proceeds to be split between the Syndicate and Daniel Whitmore IV."
"He didn't just sell me to cover his debt," I whispered, the paper fluttering from my hand. "He wanted a profit. He wanted an extra two million dollars for handing me over to be auctioned."
"Five million dollars," Eric said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. He sat on the edge of the bed, his weight making me roll toward him. His presence was overwhelming: the heat from his body, the intensity in his eyes. "That is the value your fiancé put on your life. He was going to let the Russians bid on your virginity while he went back to his penthouse to count his share."
I looked at him, tears finally spilling over. "And what about you? Why did you stop him? Are you going to keep me as collateral now? Am I just another debt you're collecting?"
Eric reached out, his thumb catching a tear on my cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle, yet his eyes were a storm of possessiveness. The contact sent a shiver through me, a mix of fear and something warmer, more dangerous.
"I've spent twelve years making sure you stayed pure for a man who deserved you," he rasped. "I watched you graduate, I watched you work, I watched you live. I stayed in the shadows because my world is blood and ash, and I didn't want to stain you."
He leaned in, his scent overpowering my senses. "But when I saw that contract, when I realized a cockroach like Whitmore was going to sell what I've worshiped from afar, I realized I was done being a guardian. I'm taking what's mine."
His words ignited a fire in my belly. "Yours? I'm not a thing to be taken!"
Eric's hand moved from my cheek to my neck, his fingers tracing the pulse that raced there. "Not a thing, Seraphina. A treasure. And treasures are guarded, or stolen by those bold enough to claim them."
Before I could respond, his lips brushed mine, a teasing, feather-light touch that left me breathless. It was my first real taste of him, and it was intoxicating. But he pulled back, his eyes dark with restraint. "Not tonight. You need time to process. But know this, I will wait as long as it takes."
He left me alone, the door locking behind him. I collapsed onto the bed, my body humming from that brief contact. Daniel's betrayal stung, but Eric's promise terrified me more, because a part of me wanted him to keep it.
The night stretched on, my mind a whirlwind. I paced the room, the silk sheets beckoning, but sleep eluded me. Eric's touch lingered on my skin, a ghost that made my heart race. Was this Stockholm syndrome, or something real? The contract lay on the floor, a reminder of Daniel's cold calculation. Compared to that, Eric's obsession felt like fire, dangerous, but alive.
In the Moretti family, tradition dictated loyalty to the code, omertà, the silence that bound them. Eric had broken it for me, an outsider. What would that cost him? The mafia's "Ten Commandments" flashed in my mind from stories I'd heard, no cooperation with police, respect for wives, always available for the family. Eric was defying the core by choosing me.
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8.0
On our wedding night, my Fated Mate, Alpha Cedric, left our bed to care for his mistress. He told me our marriage was just an obligation.
But the real betrayal came months later on a rooftop.
When Rogues demanded a trade, Cedric didn't hesitate. He chose to save Jayden because of her "heart condition," handing me—his pregnant wife—over to the killers.
"You are stronger," he said as he pushed me toward them.
I fell from the building. I survived, but our unborn pup didn't.
Instead of comfort, I woke up to handcuffs. Cedric believed Jayden’s lies that I staged the kidnapping for attention.
He threw me into the dungeon, shackling my wrists with silver cuffs that burned my flesh, while Jayden poisoned my food with wolfsbane.
He stripped me of my title and dignity, never realizing that the "fragile" woman he protected was the true monster.
He didn't know about the glowing rune on my chest counting down the seconds I had left. He didn't know I was the legendary White Wolf, and my time was up.
On my final night, I asked for one last ride on the Ferris wheel where we first met.
At midnight, as Cedric rushed back to the amusement park, he didn't find a body. He found only my empty clothes and a text message on the seat.
"Don't look for me, Cedric. I'm giving my wolf back to the moon."
As he watched the security footage, he finally saw me dissolve into stardust and ascend to the sky, leaving him alone in a world that suddenly felt too quiet.
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."
7.1
"Don't tease me again or else you really want it. There are no safe words in my bed."
He is rumored to know a thousand ways to disarm and pleasure a woman, and I am Olivia, the nymphomaniac.
In a quest for revenge against my childhood bullies, I got locked into an unhappy marriage, with an untamed brother-in-law. Colt Fletcher, the morally-grey, rebel biker is ever excited by danger and prefers life on the edge. And from the moment he laid eyes on me, I became his forbidden want.
I should know better, to steer clear of deadly desires like these but when fate forces us to live under the same roof, share the same boardroom, and every accidental touch burns, my resolve begins to collapse.
But scandals don't stay buried, and my husband is the devil. The price of this betrayal is death. I must choose between my husband who owns my name, and his brother who owns my body.
7.3
She was sent to destroy him.
A man feared in the shadows, a mafia lord whose name alone commanded power and blood. Serafina Dunes had one mission: send Rapheal Dekoms to hell.
Murdered by her husband's mistress, Yuanita Serra was ripped from life before her time-only to be reborn as a missionier, and her first task was to kill Rapheal Dekoms. But fate had other plans. What was meant to be a deadly mission became a dangerous game of desire and hate, where every glance and every touch ignited a fire she couldn't control-and threatened to unravel everything he had ever built.
8.5
Aria had always been a driven, ambitious woman. As a rising star in the tech industry, she had no time for games or drama. Her relationship with Ethan, her longtime boyfriend, had been convenient but lackluster. That is, until the fateful night she caught him in bed with her childhood best friend, Jasmin.
Heartbroken and enraged, Aria confronted them both, demanding answers and explanations. Mark tried to manipulate her, but Aria was done listening. In a fit of anger and despair, she left with no destination in mind and ended up in a hotel bar, drowning her sorrows in an expensive whiskey. It was there that she first encountered Luca kings, a dangerous and handsome mafia boss.
But Aria's new life took a shocking turn when Luca revealed a dark secret: Her father, a powerful corporate executive, had been responsible for the death of Luca's mother. It was a brutal murder years ago, covered up by Aria's influential family.
Luca vowed revenge, and Aria found herself caught in the middle. She was torn between her loyalty to her family and the undeniable attraction she felt towards Luca. As the tension mounted, Aria knew that she would have to make a choice - one that would change the course of her life forever.
8.0
For five years, my husband kept me in a dog cage because he believed I murdered his fiancée, my stepsister Kinsley.
He stripped me of my dignity, my name, and my humanity, all to avenge a woman who wasn't even dead.
When Kinsley finally returned, alive and smiling, I thought my nightmare was over.
Instead, she framed me again.
Right in front of Courtland, she pushed my little brother down the stone steps of the estate.
I held my brother's broken body in the rain, screaming for help.
But Courtland just stood there, shielding Kinsley under his umbrella, looking at me with cold indifference.
He chose the monster over his wife.
That night, I realized love wasn't enough to save me.
So, I stood on the edge of the hospital roof and let gravity take me.
I wanted him to mourn. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to burn.
Three years later, at a gala in New York, the Ice King dropped his champagne glass.
He stared at me—the woman in the red dress, the fiancée of his rival.
I looked him dead in the eye and smiled like a stranger.
He cornered me later, his voice trembling with rage and obsession.
"Death is the only divorce in my world, Anastasia. And you are still very much alive."