Nightfall - A Mafia Romance
A mafia billionaire single dad romance.
I just discovered the don's darkest secret. Wait 'til he finds out mine...
The Bratva don and I made a deal:
Spare my father. Take me instead.
But Dmitry Tsezar wasn't satisfied with my body.
He wanted everything else, too.
My obedience. My submission.
My heart. My soul.
And when that still wasn't enough, he came to take my life.
But then I found something.
Something twisted. Something wrong.
Something hidden in a locked room of his mansion, in a wing he warned me never, ever to wander near.
When I opened the door and discovered Dmitry's secret...
Everything changed forever.
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Chapter 2
He nods, his hands lacing together in front of him. "What for?"
I sit back in my chair and stretch. Then, I turn and grab the crystal globe sitting on the side table. It's a trinket from my father's office. Something given to him as a gift from another boss, maybe a past leader of the Japanese Yakuza. It means nothing to me, but I've kept it around. I spin the globe with my finger, watching it turn slowly.
"Why?" Sevastian repeats, his voice shaking. "What is going on? And why is everyone waiting in the other room? What is this about? Have I done something?"
"Have you?" I ask quietly, tilting my head towards him.
He licks his lips, and I can see his fingers shaking. Slowly, the tremor moves up his body, claiming him inch by inch. He can't stop it. Soon, his head is twitching back and forth, too.
Sevastian is terrified.
"Who told you?" he asks.
I appreciate his not trying to lie his way out of things, even if it's not like he stood a chance if he made the attempt.
"Does it matter?"
He bites the inside of his cheek.
"What did you tell them?" I ask calmly, letting my duty to the Bratva wash away everything else.
There are men waiting in the other room, expecting me to look out for them. To take care of them.
Who knows what Sevastian told the FBI? Who he turned over? Any one of my men could be hauled in for questioning and it's entirely Sevastian's fault.
And ultimately, my fault.
For trusting a traitor. For being loyal to a man who wasn't loyal to me.
Now, I have to rectify it.
"Does it matter?" Sevastian asks, repeating my own question back to me. "You're going to kill me regardless of what I say."
I nod. He isn't wrong. "I would respect you more if you confessed. It might lessen the severity of your punishment."
"Bullshit," he spits. "I'm dying tonight regardless. So, go ahead, Dmitry. Do what you brought me here to do."
When I don't move, Sevastian leans forward, his top lip pulled back in a snarl. "What? Are you afraid to hurt your best friend? Because that's what we are, right? Best friends. You know I only did what I did to save my own ass. It had nothing to do with you or the Bratva. I wouldn't have gone to the FBI if they hadn't found me first. That's why you didn't kill me the moment I walked through the door. Because you know I have an explanation. You know I only did what I had to do-what anyone would have done. You know-"
Before he can finish the sentence, I rear back and smash the crystal globe against the side of his head.
Sevastian drops to the floor without so much as a groan, knocked out cold.
I study the globe, and aside from a smear of blood over Europe, it's as if nothing happened at all. I replace it on the side table and stand up, stepping over Sevastian's body on my way out of the room.
I nod to Rurik as I pass. "Take him to the basement. Chain him up."
My men get to work without hesitation.
THE ROOM IS silent as I enter.
Sevastian is in the middle of the room-my personal gym-chained to the bench press. He can lift his arms a few inches, but otherwise, he's immobilized.
"I'm not going to tell you anything," he says, flinching away from me as I near him. "So you might as well kill-"
The wooden paddle cracks across his face before he can finish.
There's already a lump where I hit him with the globe, and now I've added a split across his cheekbone. Blood pours from the wound.
"Who did you turn over?" I ask. "Which stash houses did you reveal?"
Sevastian spits blood at my feet and glares up at me. I bring my knee up hard and fast into his chin. I hear his teeth smash together.
"Which of your brothers did you rat on?" I growl.
"Brothers," Sevastian laughs. "You were my brother once, too, Dmitry. What are we now?"
I bend down until we're nose to nose and growl, "Whatever we are is your doing. Remember with every flash of pain that you are the one who turned your back on me."
Sevastian looks away, and I see shame cross his face before he hides it with a scowl. He clenches his jaw and winces. I wouldn't be surprised if I cracked one of his teeth. "I'm not going to talk."
"You're loyal to the feds now?" I hiss. "Remember when you said you only did what you had to do to survive? Well, your life is on the line again. Suddenly you aren't so interested in begging?"
"Because it won't do any good," he said, lifting his chin like a petulant child. "You'll kill me, either way. At least this way, I'll take some of you down with me."
The lieutenants around me bristle with anger. I know they want to tear into Sevastian. They want a piece of him. They want revenge.
I try to imagine stepping back and giving them free rein, but no matter how much Sevastian has changed, I still see the pale boy peeking out from the dark black hair. I see the friendly little ghost who existed next to me for most of my life. My best friend. My brother-in-arms.
The paddle clatters across the floor when I toss it aside and trade it for the gun at my hip. I lift my arm, the muzzle pointed at Sevastian's mouth.
"Do you have anything left to say?" I ask.
Sevastian looks up at me, his eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Fuck-"
I pull the trigger and he slumps forward.
My ears are still ringing when I tell my men to clean up the mess. I don't look at his body before I leave. I've shown my family I don't stand for traitors, and I've maintained my authority. There is no need to carry the image of Sevastian's dead body with me. My job here is done.
Up in my office, I make a few calls, announcing Sevastian's actions and my sentencing, ensuring the news spreads quickly to the rest of the Bratva. When I'm done, I look down and realize there is blood spattered on my shirt.
The maid has washed enough of my bloody clothes that I know she could get the stains out, but I take it off and stuff it into my trash can. I have more than enough shirts that I don't need to worry about saving this one. Plus, I'm not sure I'd ever want to wear it again.
I pull a new shirt from the closet behind my desk and slip into it just as my phone rings. I recognize the number as Amanda's and answer.
"Any change?" I ask without saying so much as 'hello.'
"Nothing," she says.
I nod and take a deep breath.
"I'm sorry," Amanda says quickly. "I was told you wanted nightly reports on Tati. Is that still true?"
"Yes. I want to know the second there is any change. No matter what time."
Amanda agrees, and we hang up.
I stare in the mirror hanging behind the closet door and button my shirt with slow fingers. It's late, and I should go to bed, but I can't imagine sleeping. So, instead, I sit down at my desk and go through the list of collections I have to make the next day.
Usually, Sevastian and I collected together.
But tomorrow I will go alone.
2
COURTNEY
I
stare at the page and widen my eyes, trying to keep my vision from going blurry. At this point, I can't tell if it's because I'm wired with caffeine or because I haven't slept more than a few hours at a time for the last three days.
My highlighter has become a permanent fixture in my hand, and I'm not sure I'll be able to put it down come test time.
Which is in one hour.
"Shit," I whisper, hunching down over my textbook. My professor told us over and over again throughout the semester that the best thing any of us could do would be to study the material periodically throughout the semester rather than cramming right before tests, but what did she know?
Well, probably a lot, considering she teaches behavioral neuroscience.
That's what I want to do. Not teach, but work in the behavioral neuroscience field. I want to be a clinical psychologist and help people.
But that won't happen if I fail this test.
I close my eyes, focusing my mind for a moment, and then begin reading again. Half of the page is highlighted. Hell, half of the book is highlighted. There isn't enough time for me to memorize all of this before the test. I'm going to fail. I'm going to have to drop out of school, and then what?
In the midst of my downward spiral, my phone rings.
I groan and dismiss the call without looking to see who it is. Everyone in my life knows I have this test today. I told my dad I would be coming home tonight and not to bother me until then since I'll be staying with him for the entire winter break. And Sadie is going to pick me up after the test to take me home, so she knows not to call. Whoever it was-probably a telemarketer-is not worth the energy it would take to read the number.
I sigh and focus on the page again.
When my phone buzzes a second time, I actually let out a scream, which my roommate-a Chinese exchange student who has been in a perpetual state of jet lag since she arrived four months ago-does not appreciate. She glares at me and then rolls over, pulling the blankets over her head. I have no idea if she has any finals, but based on her sleep schedule, I'd have to guess that she has missed them all.
I don't recognize the number, so I dismiss it with a quick flick of my wrist and go back to studying.
I'm in the middle of highlighting an important sentence I missed the first ten times I read through the chapter when my phone buzzes once more.
"Goddammit," I mutter, grabbing my phone off the charger and answering it. "What?"
"Courtney?"
I frown and pull back to look at the number on the screen.
My heart drops.
Then, I bring it back to my ear. "Mom?"
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7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.
9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
7.4
I thought my life was over when my sister died, leaving me to raise her two babies in a world that wanted to swallow us whole. Then I made the mistake of a lifetime: I left a bold, humiliating voicemail for the one man I should have feared most.
Anton Oryolov.
The ruthless king of the Oryolov Bratva. A billionaire monster who rules the city with ice in his veins and blood on his hands.
I expected him to fire me. I expected him to destroy me. Instead, he gave me a choice that felt like a death sentence: sign a contract and become his.
The rules were simple. I belong to him. I live in his shadows. In exchange, he protects the children. But as the doors of his mansion locked behind me, I realized the "forced proximity" wasn't just a business arrangement. It was a cage.
He thinks he can use me as a pawn in his dark mafia games. He thinks the children are just leverage to keep me in line. But he's starting to look at me with a hunger that isn't in the contract, and I'm seeing a man beneath the monster that I never expected to find.
In the Cruel Paradise of the Bratva, loyalty is a lie and love is a weakness. Our deal is signed in ink, but it's going to end in blood.
He owns my signature. He owns my safety. Now, he wants my soul.
7.6
Top DEA agent Kaitlynn Bruce woke up to a heavy, chemical lethargy, only to realize she was trapped in the body of a weak, abused war widow.
Before she could even process her new reality, she heard her sister-in-law counting cash, selling her unconscious body to a local thug for a measly two hundred dollars.
The thug dragged her new seven-year-old son, Cason, into the bedroom.
"Mommy!"
When the boy reached out, the man brutally kicked his small body into a wooden doorframe, leaving him gasping and bleeding on the floor.
Memories flooded Kaitlynn's mind. Her predecessor was a pathetic doormat whose husband's military pension had been bled dry by these greedy in-laws, leaving her children to starve and suffer endless abuse.
But as Kaitlynn looked at the bleeding boy's dark, unnervingly alert eyes, a chilling piece of DEA intelligence clicked in her mind.
Cason Richmond.
The name, the town, the abusive aunt—it all matched the classified files of the "Director of the Hive," the most ruthless and feared cartel puppet master in the criminal underworld.
How could this battered, starving child be destined to become the ultimate monster she used to hunt?
The original widow's tragic death was supposed to be the catalyst that pushed this boy into total darkness.
But Kaitlynn Bruce was not a victim.
Adrenaline burning through the drugs, she cracked the thug's neck with a brass lamp and choked the sister-in-law against the wall.
Looking down at the boy who was supposed to become a global nightmare, she made a vow. She was going to rewrite his script, even if she had to burn the whole world down to do it.
8.7
"You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down?
7.8
Elena Voss was sold like a debt receipt.
Her greedy aunt and uncle handed her over to Damien Blackthorn-New York's untouchable billionaire tech mogul by day, ruthless Mafia Don and Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack by night-to settle a family debt they never asked her to pay.
The moment their eyes met in that rain-soaked alley, the fated mate bond ignited like wildfire. For one reckless night, he claimed her body and soul, whispering "mine" against her skin while the Moon Goddess sealed their destiny.
Then came the betrayal.
On their first anniversary, he paraded his pureblood fiancée through their penthouse, let her kneel for him in the study while Elena watched from the shadows, and divorced her in front of the entire pack.
"Wolfless trash," he snarled. "You were never more than payment."
Heart in pieces and two tiny heartbeats growing inside her, Elena fled. She vanished into Seattle's gray drizzle, changed her name, cut her hair, and built a quiet life as a single mother. She swore the Blackthorn name would never touch her twins-Leo and Luna, the secret heirs he didn't even know existed.
Five years later, the children's first uncontrolled shifts rip through their small apartment like lightning. The only place that can teach them control and keep them hidden from rival packs is back in New York-back under Damien's shadow.
The Alpha Don who once threw her away is now obsessed.
The fated bond never died; it only waited. He feels her every laugh, every tear, every protective growl she gives their children. He'll burn his empire, his alliances, and his pride to drag her back.
But Elena isn't the broken girl he discarded anymore.
She's a mother with claws.
A luna who learned to bite.
And this time, if he wants her forgiveness, he'll have to beg on his knees.
Pregnancy. Divorce. Secret babies. Billionaire alpha. Mafia power plays. Revenge that burns slow and sweet.
Some bonds can't be broken.
Some rejections come with claws.
And some second chances are paid for in blood.