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 6
Luciano's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with anger when he heard her absurd reason.
"You're very adventurous, Rosie," he gritted out with disgust, and Rosa smirked, sensing the hatred in his tone.
Well, yes. Hate me and get lost from my life again, she spoke in her mind.
But outwardly, she just shrugged, making an innocent face.
He snorted, making a sarcastic expression, and spat out, "You want a different man every night to sleep with? Not even for double the payment?"
"No, Mr. Mancini, not even triple payment will work. I work on my conditions," she said with an impassive face.
He glared at her for a while. She knew who he was and what he was capable of, yet she still dared to piss him off. This little Rosie had surely become very bold. But Luciano Mancini wasn't used to taking a no.
"Well, it wasn't a proposal but a demand. I want you in my bed for two weeks, and that's not negotiable."
Rosa's mouth dried, and her heart sank with her sense of doom. Fuck-she had never thought he would be so intrigued by her after one night, when he had never paid attention to her even while living in the same house for six months.
What an idiot-an absolute masterpiece of idiocy and assholeness.
She masked her terror with feigned confidence and spoke in a calm tone. "No, Mr. Mancini. I am sorry. But I don't do one-week bookings. I only work per night. If you want a booking for two weeks, find someone else," she stammered, trying to come up with a quick excuse.
God help her escape this ruthless mafia boss.
Luciano's eyes narrowed, but he didn't pull away and remained hovering over her face. His expression remained unreadable. "You work only at night, huh?!"
"Y-yes," she mumbled with nervousness.
"Alright then, I will book you for every night for two weeks," he said with an intense, dark expression.
Rosa's face turned pale with nervousness despite her efforts to remain composed. And now the Italian don became very angry.
Was he really that bad in bed that she was making excuses not to be with him again, and was that one night really a mistake? Now he wanted answers, and the only way was to take her to his bed again and see whether she screamed in fake pleasure or reached a real orgasm when he buried himself deep in her dripping pussy.
"But Mr. Mancini..." she started to make another excuse to refuse him, and this frustrated him further. Without warning, he slammed his lips onto hers and kissed her hard-rough, almost punishing.
Rosa's eyes slid closed, and an involuntary moan left her mouth when he thrust his tongue between her lips and tangled it with her tongue.
Her body surrendered in his arms, and her hands unknowingly clutched the suit jacket of her ex-husband as his passionate kiss made her knees weak and her legs turn to jelly. But the next moment, he broke their kiss, panting and breathing heavily, his lips still hovering above hers. But Rosa didn't open her eyes. She didn't dare to.
"What's your rate?" he asked, remembering what she had told him. "Ten grand? I'll pay you double," he murmured, his voice low, hoarse, and dangerous.
Though the offer was tempting, the risk was even greater, and Rosa was unwilling to give in.
"No, I..." she began to reason. But again, he caught her lower lip between his teeth, biting hard and pulling roughly, making her gasp and close her eyes again before he released it with a pop and whispered, "Fifty grand per fuck. And there's no limit to how much you can make in a night."
Her eyes fluttered open in shock. Why was this cruel mafia ex-husband of hers so desperate to torture her in his bed? Yes, torture-that was all he wanted to do to her for having sex with him last night by fooling him. And she knew that if she refused his offer, he would surely suspect her motives. No, she couldn't take that risk. She couldn't let him find out.
So she curled her arms around his neck and arched her back sensually before smiling sweetly.
"Wow, I didn't know you were so happy with my service, Mr. Mancini," she said. "Is it because no woman has ever pleased you in bed the way I did last night? I mean, seriously... you must have had countless women in your bed, but none of them compare to me, right?"
She batted her lashes at him, feigning innocence, though her taunting tone betrayed her amusement.
"Don't be so happy about it. I only like to own things, and now I want to own you for two weeks," he said in his deadly cold voice, and Rosa shivered at the effect of his icy tone. Of course, she was right-he wanted to torture her, and now nothing would work on this devil who seemed determined to ruin her soul, as if he hadn't already ruined her life.
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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."