Not Yours To Claim, My Mafia Ex

She smiled seductively, masking the fear in her heart, which made her pulse race like a jet engine.

“Mr. Mancini, that was part of my service. After all, that’s what I get paid for—to satisfy men, give them everything they want, make them feel excited in their bed,” she replied, trying to control her shattering breath.

Luciano’s expression darkened; his blue eyes turned black with a murderous instinct. For some reason, his heart clenched with anger and jealousy at the thought of his ex-wife screaming another man’s name in their bed.

He tightened his grip and mercilessly yanked her hair back, forcing her head to lift and her eyes to meet his. She winced but managed a smile—one that only made him angrier.

“Such a shameless woman you are. I thought I knew you, but no—I never understood you, never saw this side of you,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry if I led you into some misunderstanding,” she murmured, keeping her tone sensual—or perhaps it was Luciano who heard each word leaving her mouth as if it were designed to seduce him.

“I have a girlfriend, and I’m going to marry her in a few days. And you… you dared to crawl into my bed and make me fuck you. Don’t you fear the consequences?” he breathed out in such a dangerous way that anyone else in her place would have started crying and begging for their life.

She was also very terrified. From the very beginning of her plan, she had known she was going to ask for her death while lying with her mafia ex-husband—but she had to do it. With no other choice, she was helpless as she entered the lion’s den and challenged him.

“Don Mancini, you’re talking like that as if it means something to you. When we were married, you never thought about morals, never cared—always maintaining your relationship with your girlfriend. So why is it a big deal now? Sleeping around is your hobby, isn’t it?” she mocked, though the pain in her heart flared at the memory of how he used to make her the object of ridicule in public while flaunting his love for his girlfriend.

It wasn’t her mistake to marry him, to come between him and his girlfriend. He had agreed to the marriage himself; she hadn’t put a gun to his head to force him.

“You had become very bold, huh?!” he taunted with a death glare as he tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her face closer. Their breaths mixed, their lips almost touching. She sucked in a breath, trying not to close her eyes. Fuck—he still had that effect on her.

“No, Mr. Mancini, how can I have the courage to be anything before you? I told you, if I had known it was you, I would have never come to that room. I still apologize. Please forget about that night and think of it as a mistake. Please let me go, sir,” she said in a pleading tone.

She didn’t want to die by the hand of her cruel ex-husband—not when she still had a purpose in her life, and her son needed her the most. She couldn’t afford to die.

Mistake?!

Luciano’s jaw clenched, and he hadn’t let go of her hair. She was still in his grasp, like a deer caught in a wolf’s jaws, and yet she had the courage to talk back while looking into his eyes. She looked nothing like the Rosa he had known five years ago.

But the truth was, after trying hard, Luciano couldn’t forget about last night, and for some strange reason, he wanted her even more. And when she called it a mistake and apologized, his blood boiled. Was she challenging his bedroom skills? No woman had ever complained. And his ex-wife had the audacity to forget, after he had put so much effort into her in bed—something he had never done in sex before. Now she was truly going to regret it. He would make sure of that.

“So you sleep with anyone for money, right?” he narrowed his eyes, breathing over her lips.

She swallowed before letting out a soft, “Hmm.”

“Then I’m paying you in advance for two weeks,” he offered. “For two weeks, you’re mine and can’t see other men.”

Her eyes widened in shock. No, that couldn’t be happening. She started panicking because she couldn’t afford to be in bed with her cruel mafia husband another night; two weeks were out of the question. And if she stayed longer with him, she feared he would sense her true intention and the secret she was hiding from him.

So whatever excuse came to her mind next, she blurted it out in desperation to escape this cruel Italian don. “That can’t be happening, Mr. Mancini, because I don’t stay with the same man every night.”