Oops, I Accidentally Adopted A Mafia Boss
[R-18 | MATURE CONTENT]
Sasha thought saving a stranger would be the most dangerous thing she'd ever done.
She found him half-dead on the shore of her quiet island-bleeding, unconscious, and with no memory of who he was. Out of kindness, she brought him home, cared for his wounds, and gave him a place in her life.
Days turned into months.
The mysterious man with dark eyes and quiet strength slowly became her everything. In the small warmth of her seaside home, they built something that felt real-something that felt like love.
Until the morning he disappeared without a trace.
No goodbye. No explanation.
Years later, Sasha learns the truth.
The man she saved isn't a helpless stranger.
He is one of the most feared mafia bosses in Russia... and his amnesia was never real.
Now she's trapped in his world-far from the sea she calls home-and the man she once loved offers her a dangerous deal. One that ties her fate to his once again.
Was every touch just part of his plan?
Or is the ruthless mafia king hiding the same man who once held her like she was his entire world?
Sasha only knows one thing for certain.
Saving him was never the mistake.
Falling in love with him might have been.
After all... she accidentally adopted a mafia boss.
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Chapter 4
SASHA ROSARIO'S POINT OF VIEW
Idiot! You're such an idiot, Sasha. Did you really think he would believe that? I wanted the earth to swallow me whole, especially since he didn't say anything, just kept staring at me.
Then, to my utter shock, he smiled, and then kissed me. It was just a peck, so I couldn't react until he spoke, grinning at me.
"Is that so? Then, will you please calm me down here... wife?"
Holy mother of God! Sasha, what have you gotten yourself into now?
What have I gotten myself into?
I held my breath where we stood locked together, heart hammering so hard against my ribs I could feel its shape pressing through my blouse. My hands were planted on his shoulders, fingers curled tight enough I knew they'd leave half-moons in his skin. Heat climbed my cheeks-shame knotted with hunger as his gray eyes held mine fast.
He tilted his head, gaze never breaking. "Hmm? Aren't you going to help me?"
My mouth parted and closed again, no sound rising from my throat. I snapped it shut at last and dragged air into my lungs.
Good heavens above. What am I supposed to do? Why did I tell him I was his wife? What on earth was I thinking?
I wanted to pull at my hair. This man made no sense-he acted as if memory had slipped clean away, yet moved with the ease of someone playing a game he knew by heart. If I'd woken with no past at all, the first thing I'd ask was how I'd landed here.
Instead this stranger-his name still a mystery to me-was asking me to soothe the hard, throbbing length pressing against my belly.
Tears pricked my eyelids. I had no idea what to do.
His hand slid over my hip, warm skin on mine, and I jumped. We still had not looked away, still had not spoken another word until he pushed his lips forward in a soft pout and drew me close, arms wrapping around my waist.
"Please. Help me, wife. I'll ask about what happened later-it hurts everywhere, but nothing hurts as much as the snake between my legs."
My eyes went wide. He meant every word. "I-I-shouldn't we treat your wounds first? We can deal with... that later-"
"I don't want to." He pushed his lower lip out further, looking almost boyish. "Are you really my wife? I can't remember anything, but something tells me I can trust you. Please? It just needs to be calmed down-it won't bite."
My brain felt like molten rock shifting under my skull.
Lord, what do people do in situations like this?
I stared at him, my life flashing in quick slices behind my eyes. I'd always believed lying led only to trouble, that honesty was the only solid ground underfoot. Now I was tangled in the net I'd woven myself.
I forced a smile, already knowing I was about to make another mistake. Here we go again-I don't even know what he expects me to do. This is the first time I've ever seen a man's... well. How am I supposed to calm it down?
I bit my lower lip, thoughts racing even as my hands stayed fixed to his shoulders.
"O-Okay, but wait a second." I giggled softly and eased his arms from me to stand up, then nearly covered my eyes before remembering he was bare from head to toe.
"Where are you going?" he asked, and the urge to scream rose in my throat.
Why does his voice have to sound like that? Deep and rough and warm enough to make my panties damp. How am I supposed to walk away when he looks like that?
My thoughts might run wild, but I'm innocent when it comes to things like this. And besides-I don't want to get pregnant.
Color drained from my face as a picture flickered through my head: me on a narrow bed, screaming as my body strained to push out a child.
"No way!" I blurted, shaking my head so fast my hair whipped around my cheeks. "Who wants to be pregnant? I'm already poor-adding a baby is the last thing I need. I'd rather enjoy being alone while I still can-"
"Are you a kidnapper, miss?"
"YES-what?!" My eyes shot back to his face, finding his brow drawn tight with confusion.
Is this man mad? Wait-how does he speak English and Tagalog so well? Could he be a spy sent by another country to invade the Philippines?
I pointed a finger at him. "You! You're a spy from abroad, aren't you? Are you here to attack us? Let me tell you-there's nothing to steal here. The government already took all our money." My voice came out flat, like I was reading from a schoolbook.
He could be faking amnesia to trick me into helping him. Even if I've dreamed of a foreign husband, I'm loyal to the Philippines.
His brow wrinkled deeper, and I scratched at my head in frustration.
What is wrong with me, Sasha? You've always talked too much, but at least you made sense before. Now you're spouting nonsense.
"I'm not a spy. You said I'm your husband-are you denying me now?" He sounded almost hurt.
My jaw dropped. I couldn't follow how his mind leaped from one thing to the next.
I turned my back on him, muttering under my breath. "This man has a screw loose." I bit my lip, fighting the urge to kick the wall beside me.
Should I take back what I said? I'm such an idiot-why did I tell him I was his wife? Everything has only grown more tangled.
I sighed heavily and faced him again. "I take it back-I'm not your wife. I'm your auntie."
That will work. Just call me Auntie.
His eyes widened in surprise. I bit at my thumb, keeping my gaze on the floorboards under our feet.
Should I explain more? Yes, better make it convincing.
"You see... I'm your auntie, and you've been staying with me because I live alone. You said you were going fishing the other day but didn't come back yesterday. I found you on the beach this morning-you must've hit your head, that's why you can't remember anything." I gasped for air, having talked so fast my chest burned.
Perfect! That sounds totally believable. Go me.
I flinched as he stood up, moving like his wounds were nothing more than scratches.
My eyes widened further as they drifted down to his stiff length.
"Eek! C-Could you cover that... thing up?!" I stammered, holding my hands up as if to shield my eyes-though I couldn't help peeking through my fingers.
I'm just curious. How does it get so big? Good grief-it's almost as thick as my arm.
"Liar," he said firmly, pulling my attention back to his face.
"W-What liar? I'm not lying!" I protested at once.
His forehead was still creased, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes-he stood a full head taller than me.
"Then why did you undress me? If you're my auntie, why are you staring at me like that?"
I slapped a hand to my forehead. What kind of answers am I giving? He's making me feel like I'm on trial. Should I just knock him out so he'll go back to sleep?
My head throbbed with every word he spoke. He seemed completely unhinged-more irrational than I was.
"I was going to clean your wounds," I said flatly, letting out another long sigh.
Such is life.
"Then treat me, Auntie."
My ears perked up at that. Wait-he believes me?
I beamed so wide my cheeks ached, like I'd just won the lottery. Finally! We can stop with all this headache-inducing talk.
"Okay, wait-I'll get the first aid kit." I spoke with real cheer, humming as I walked past him and fetched the box from the corner. I set it on the floor, then dragged over my only plastic chair-it wobbled and leaned to one side, but it would have to serve.
"Sit down-uh, what was your name again?" Oh right, he can't remember.
"I don't know. You're my auntie-don't you know?"
I slapped my forehead once more. You're so stupid, Sasha. He has amnesia-of course he can't remember his name.
"U-Um... An... Angelo!" I smiled bright as the sun. Way to go-you're practically an actress now.
"Your name is Angelo."
It fits! He's an angel who fell from heaven and landed in my lap-thank you, God.
"Okay..."
"What? Do you not like it? It's a beautiful name. Famous too-I see it on tombstones all the time when I walk through the cemetery."
His expression darkened, and he looked like he could scarcely believe what he was hearing. I might have imagined it, but he seemed truly annoyed.
Then he smiled, his gaze softening as he looked down at me like a faithful dog.
"Treat me now, Auntie."
"Just sit down already," I ordered-but he only kept staring.
"I don't want to. You sit down."
What? Did his parents not teach him any respect? Ordering his auntie around like this?
I leaned into my role, lifting one eyebrow and settling into the chair with an overdone scowl.
But the moment my body hit the plastic seat, reality settled heavy in my chest.
Why am I the one sitting? I'm not the patient. How am I supposed to treat him if he's standing?
I opened my mouth to say as much, but it was too late-his warm length pressed against my lips.
My eyes flew open as he cupped the back of my head and drew me closer, holding me steady. I could feel every line and curve of him against my face, and my breath caught sharp in my throat.
"H-Hey? Did you plan this? You're playing me for a fool, aren't you?!"
"Stop pretending," he murmured, voice low and rough as stone. "I know you're my wife."
"Blyad', ne mogu skryt', kak ya napryagsya." he added quietly, his accent thick as honey.
What the hell is he saying?! What language is that?!
My heart pounded so hard I thought it would split my chest open. I tried to pull away, but his grip was firm-I could not move an inch.
"Please... suck me, wife."
Angels in heaven, Jesus Christ, and God above-I don't know where I stepped off the path. I only wanted to be good. I entrust my life to you now. I don't understand how things have come this far. Please guide me away from temptation, protect me from this man-because Lord...
I might not be strong enough to resist. My panties are already soaked through.
Amen.
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8.0
Blurb
**She's promised to his brother... but branded by his touch. And now the past refuses to stay buried.**
***
**SIENNA**
I thought I buried that night.
The night I gave myself to a stranger. Reckless and wild. No names. No rules. No future.
Just heat. Desperation. A body that made me forget who I was supposed to be.
Now I wear his brother's ring. Planning a future with the man I'm supposed to love.
Then he walks into my engagement party and everything shatters.
Landon Callahan. The black sheep. The rebel. The man who touched me before I knew his name.
He acts like I never existed. Like that night was nothing.
But I remember every breath. Every broken rule. Every moment I came alive.
I should walk away. Should marry Noah and forget.
But Landon has always been the fire I was never meant to touch twice.
*** **
**LANDON**
She was never supposed to be his.
The night I had her, I didn't ask her name. Didn't want to know.
I just knew I'd never forget the way she looked at me. Like I was the only thing she ever wanted.
Then I walk into the engagement party I should have skipped. And see her standing beside my brother.
Now I'm back in the world I swore I'd left behind. And she's the one thing I can't outrun.
She wears his ring. Smiles like she hasn't been in my bed. Pretends I never made her come undone.
But I remember. And so does she.
One night should have been the end.
Instead it was only the beginning.
Because I don't let go of what's mine. Not even for my brother.
9.5
"My father sold me to a sixty-year-old monster to clear his gambling debts. So, I made a desperate gamble of my own."
Seventeen-year-old Isabella Rossi has two choices: become the broken plaything of a sadistic mafia Capo, or do the unthinkable. She chooses the latter. Sneaking into a high-end speakeasy, she slips an aphrodisiac into the whiskey of the deadliest man in New York—Damien Falcone, the ruthless Underboss of the Falcone family.
Her plan was simple: steal his seed, secure his protection, and run.
But you don’t drug a predator and expect to walk away.
When Damien wakes up, he doesn’t kill her. Instead, he claims her.
"You intercepted a delivery meant for my enemy. Turns out, it was you. Now, you are my Collateral."
7.5
I was the adopted daughter of the wealthy Ruiz family, but the moment their true heir appeared, I was thrown away like trash.
Not long after being kicked out, my adoptive father and uncle hired a hitman to stage a fatal car crash on Mulholland Drive.
Pinned under an overturned Porsche with a shattered leg, I watched the hitman point a suppressed pistol between my eyes.
"The Ruiz family sends their regards."
Before this, my reputation had already been completely destroyed by a director, a pop idol, and a reality TV star, leaving me blacklisted and universally hated.
My adoptive family didn't just want me ruined; they wanted me permanently silenced to tie up loose ends.
The hitman pulled the trigger, and the original Alicia died in despair, tasting only rain and blood.
Until her last breath, she didn't understand.
Why did the family she loved treat her like a disposable object? Why did those three men maliciously frame her and turn the world against her?
Opening my eyes again, the fear was gone, replaced by an ancient, cosmic indifference.
I, the Arbiter, had taken over this deceased vessel.
Moving faster than the human eye, I crushed the hitman's steel gun with my bare hand and turned his soul into dust.
Looking at the memories of those who wronged this girl, I signed a contract for the very reality show they were starring in.
Since I borrowed this body, taking out the trash is a required courtesy.
8.5
Delphine Yenla has learned one thing the hard way; love doesn't just hurt, it breaks you in ways you don't recover from. So she stopped believing in it. She chose independence, control, and a life where no one could get close enough to hurt her again.
And for a while, it worked.
Until Wilson Dan walked into her world.
Cold, composed, and impossible to read, Wilson is the kind of man who never loses control. He does not get involved. He does not make mistakes. And he never lets anyone get close enough to matter.
But she doesn't realize... Wilson is not the kind of man you resist twice.
People don't challenge him.
Delphine does.
From their very first encounter, something shifts. The tension between them is immediate, sharp, unsettling, impossible to ignore. And from the moment he notices her, walking away stops being a choice. Every conversation feels like a quiet battle. Every glance lingers longer than it should. And the more they try to stay in control, the more everything begins to slip.
But this is not just about attraction.
There are things Wilson isn't saying.
Things Delphine is starting to notice.
And people around them who are already watching... and waiting.
What began as resistance quickly became something she cannot control.
Because this is not just about feelings.
It is about power. It is about position.
And Delphine may already be standing somewhere she doesn't understand,
somewhere she cannot simply walk away from.
Is she getting closer to Wilson...
or already too deep to step out?
When control finally breaks, one truth becomes impossible to ignore:
Some hearts don't just fall in love.
They fall into something they may not survive.
9.0
For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe.
On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring.
Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger.
Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family.
When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.*
7.8
Seven years. That was the price tag attached to my father's life.
When my father gambled away money he didn't have, Michael Vance paid the debt.
He bought my father's safety, and in return, he bought me.
I was nineteen then. A peasant girl he polished up to look like a mob wife.
I was reapplying my lipstick in the vanity mirror of his armored SUV when I found a diamond choker tucked behind the sunshade.
It was a million-dollar piece of jewelry that wasn't mine, engraved with a date that wasn't my birthday.
That night at the gala, Michael threw his mistress's heavy fur coat at me.
"Hold this, Sarah. Jessica gets hot easily."
I stood there like a servant, buried under the scent of another woman’s perfume, watching my fiancé hold her on the dance floor with a tenderness he never showed me.
When I stumbled from hunger, he called me a liability to his image.
But when Jessica faked a crisis, he abandoned me at the venue to rush her home.
I walked to the nearest trash can and shoved the expensive fur down past the half-eaten caviar.
As the sugar from a cheap candy bar hit my bloodstream, the fog lifted.
I realized I wasn't a wife-in-training. I was a debt that had been paid in full.
I left the penthouse, the ring, and the life.
But Michael wouldn't let his property go.
He cornered me in a parking garage, screaming that I belonged to him, threatening to start a war.
He didn't expect me to be standing next to David Chen, the Underboss of the rival Triad faction.
And he certainly didn't expect me to take off my Louboutin stiletto and use it as a weapon.
"I don't love you, Michael," I said, looking him in the eye as he knelt on the concrete.
"And I'm not for sale anymore."