Not Yours To Claim, My Mafia Ex
⚠️ DARK ROMANCE CONTENT WARNING
This is a very dark mafia romance intended for mature readers (18+).
It contains a morally gray anti-hero, obsession, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, explicit sexual content, and disturbing adult scenes.
If you crave danger, obsession, and morally complicated passion, this dark romance will grip you-but reader discretion is strongly advised.
Convinced that Rosa had drugged him to crawl into his bed, Italian Don Luciano Mancini took her supposed betrayal as a blow to his pride. He served her divorce papers without hearing a single explanation-and exiled her not only from his home, but from the country itself.
Years later, Rosa returned with a secret.
Their son was dying.
Diagnosed with high-risk acute lymphoblastic leukemia, the boy needed a stem-cell transplant from a biological sibling to survive. And to make that possible, Rosa had to conceive again-with the one man who despised her.
Her ex-husband.
Luciano Mancini.
But Rosa refused to reveal the real reason for her return.
Getting pregnant by a devil was never going to be easy-especially when that devil hated her. She hadn't stolen his seed before... but this time, she was ready to commit the sin if it meant saving her child.
Seeing his ex-wife again-no longer innocent, no longer obedient-awakened something Luciano had never felt for any woman. He wanted her and...
he wanted to own her this time.
But Rosa was already slipping beyond his grasp.
Because Dr. DeLuca, the man treating her son, was in love with her. He was willing to accept her in any condition-even if she carried her ex-husband's child once more.
When life finally offered Rosa safety, love, and a future free from cruelty...
why would she ever return to the Italian Don?
Except Luciano Mancini isn't going to let her go.
No one takes what belongs to him.
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Chapter 3
Dr. De Luca's brows pulled together.
"No. I would never let you sell yourself," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I've already spoken to a charity organization connected to our hospital. They fund cases where families can't afford treatment. I'm confident they'll approve Renzo's case."
Rosa's eyebrows lifted slightly as her dull gaze began to shimmer with hope. "Thank you..." she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
"Of course," Dr. De Luca said gently. "It's the least I can do."
He paused, then added with a polite smile, "By the way... are you free tonight?"
"Yes, Doctor?" Rosa replied softly, unsure what he meant.
"Actually... I wanted to discuss Renzo's treatment in more detail," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But I have a surgery scheduled now, and I won't be free until late. I was wondering if... maybe we could talk over dinner? Only if you're comfortable, of course."
"Of course," Rosa agreed softly. She was already deeply grateful he was helping and personally taking care of her son's treatment. Besides, she also wanted to discuss the next steps-especially if she had to move out of the country again.
"Alright then." Dr. DeLuca's smile widened. "I'll text you the location. How does eight o'clock sound?"
"Fine," Rosa nodded as she got up. "Thank you," she added before walking out, Lucy following behind.
"I think Dr. DeLuca likes you," Lucy teased with a smirk.
"Nonsense. He's Renzo's doctor and just concerned about his patient. Perhaps he wants to discuss something important." Rosa waved off her friend's remark.
"But asking his patient's mother out to dinner?" Lucy smirked. "He could've just discussed it over the phone, you know."
"Maybe he wants to talk face-to-face. The treatment is intense, and we still have to wait nine months-even though I'm pregnant. I need to make sure my Renzo recovers completely," Rosa murmured, her voice drifting off as her mind wandered.
"Rosa," Lucy's voice turned serious, gently bringing her back to the present. "If you're pregnant... you're going to have another baby. That means-"
"More responsibility. I know. And I'm ready for it," Rosa said firmly. But deep down, her heart trembled with anxiety. The treatment, the pregnancy... She didn't even know how she'd manage the payments.
In the evening, Rosa met Dr. DeLuca for dinner. Lucy had insisted she wear something nice rather than those boring clothes and had lent her her hottest outfit: a white crop top and black mini skirt.
After placing their orders, he looked at her seriously and said, "The stem cell transplant is going to be very expensive. You should be prepared."
"I'll do anything to pay for the treatment," Rosa replied desperately. "Can you help me find an organ recipient? I want to sell one of mine."
Dr. DeLuca pressed his lips together, staring at the woman before him with an intensity that made her feel awkward.
Finally, he exhaled and said firmly, "I won't let you do that, Rosa. And I've already told you that for the treatment-I'm already in talks with one of the largest charity organizations that supports cases like this. I'm confident they'll agree to cover the expenses."
Rosa suddenly looked overwhelmed with emotion. "Thank you so much, Dr. DeLuca. I can't express how much this means to me. I'll be indebted to you for the rest of my life." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. When she had thought every door was closed, when even her own family had turned away, here he was-willing to help her without any obligation or relation.
"First of all, call me Samuele," he said gently. "And I'm a doctor-it's my duty to ensure my patients get the treatment they need and recover."
"Still... you're like a godsend to me. I can't even thank you enough."
"That's fine, Rosa. Don't overthink it," Dr. DeLuca chuckled softly and covered her hand with his, a quiet gesture of comfort.
But just then, someone grabbed her arm and yanked her out of her chair with such force she gasped in pain.
"Ow-what the hell-?"
"You really don't waste time, do you?" came a cold, menacing voice.
Rosa's eyes widened in shock as she turned and saw Don Luciano Mancini standing there, fury blazing in his eyes and his jaw clenched tight. "Already moving on to the next man? Is that what this is?"
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7.1
I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed.
7.4
"I wanted to ruin her. Instead, I craved her."
Revenge was all Clemente Cassano ever lived for. The son of Sicily's most feared mafia leader, he swore to destroy the man who betrayed his family. His plan was simple-break the daughter, Vivian Gustavo, and watch her father burn.
But Vivian wasn't fragile. She was fire-untouchable, ruthless, intoxicating. And the deeper Santiago pulled her into his darkness, the more he realized she wasn't his enemy... she was his weakness.
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
8.9
WARNING: FOR MATURE READERS ONLY!!!
This erotica collection is raw, hot, intense, and packed with deliciously filthy fucktwists that will leave you breathless.
Each story is steamy, gripping, and driven by compelling plots that pull you deep into forbidden desire.
You will find A strict 59-year-old professor bends his tempting student over his desk and growls that she's been a very bad girl.
A college student wakes up sore and dripping in her biggest rival's bed, with no memory of how many times he fucked her senseless.
Her hot stepdad has a secret camera aimed at her bed. When she catches him watching, she doesn't rage - she spreads her legs and gives him the show of his life.
A seductive woman is the only weakness of a ruthless mafia king, and he finally claims her body as his own.
She knows her sister is cheating, so she seduces her husband right in front of her - and her sister can't say a single word.
Piper's rent is overdue. Instead of paying up, she drops to her knees for the landlord while her boyfriend watches.
A spoiled, arrogant rich brat demands a private striptease. The dancer doesn't walk away - she dances for him until he completely loses control.
An assistant's boyfriend has a huge cock, but "Daddy" knows exactly how to ruin her with his tongue. She chooses Daddy.
Best friends make a wicked bet: seduce my dad. She takes the bet... and loses all control the moment he bends her over.
Chloe has been secretly masturbating to her stepbrother's photos, moaning his name as she comes. She can't hide it much longer.
A married gym coach can't stop staring at the sexy teacher. She goes all the way and lets him take her between her thighs.
Her doctor tells her she needs rest... but she's determined to prove she's strong enough to be fucked senseless on his examination table.
Every twisted fantasy and every scorching answer waits inside these pages.
Flip the pages, spread your legs... and get ready to throb.
7.3
I was the daughter of a loyal Mafia Capo, arranged to marry the Underboss of the Moretti family. But I gave my heart to his brother, Marco, who promised to break the betrothal and protect me.
When I went into premature labor in a freezing, abandoned warehouse, Marco didn't come to save me. He sent my cousin, Caitlin.
With a mocking smile, she told me Marco despised my "filthy Irish blood" and that my pregnancy was just a temporary amusement.
Then, she pulled out a hunting knife.
She pinned me down, sliced my abdomen open, and smothered my newborn baby right in front of my eyes.
"He agreed that this inconvenience needs to be removed," she whispered.
She revealed that she and Marco had orchestrated my father's murder to secure Mafia shipping routes. Then, she casually knocked over a kerosene lantern, locking the heavy metal door to let me and my dead child burn to ash.
While they headed to a high-society gala to celebrate my "accidental" death and their new power, I lay in the roaring flames.
As the fire blistered my skin and I held my baby's lifeless body, my suffocating despair froze into a razor-sharp rage. My entire life, my family, and my love had been built on their calculated lies.
But they made one fatal mistake. I didn't die in that inferno.
I dragged my ruined body out of the ashes, wrapped myself in a blood-soaked coat, and walked straight into their celebration banquet to become their goddamn reckoning.
8.3
I was staring at the two pink lines on the plastic stick, trembling with the terrifying joy of carrying the heir to the New York underworld’s most ruthless faction.
Then the intercom buzzed, and a voice splintered my world.
"The little art student actually thinks I'm going to marry her? It was just a game to pass the time while you were in Europe, Estella."
I froze.
My boyfriend, Holden, was in the next room, laughing with the daughter of his rival.
He explained that I was just a "clean civilian image" he needed to secure a business deal. Now that the deal was signed, he was dumping the "stray" to marry the "Queen."
I tried to run, but freedom only lasted forty-eight hours.
Holden didn't just break my heart; he turned my terror into content.
He kidnapped me, tied me to a chair at the edge of a cliff, and forced me to choose between my life and his new fiancée's.
Then, he pushed me off the edge.
As gravity snatched me, I heard him laughing.
I landed on a stunt airbag. It was just a "social experiment." A sick prank for his amusement.
"Don't be so dramatic, Kenia," he called down. "It's just a game."
He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a prop in his life.
But he forgot that I knew his secrets.
I dragged my injured body to a payphone and dialed the one number Holden told me to fear—the rival Don, Gael Simpson.
"It's Kenia," I whispered, clutching the receiver like a lifeline. "I'm calling in the debt."