RUINED BY THE MAFIA CEO
"You're mine now, Brittany." He whispered in my ears. I froze. I don't remember telling him my name.
Zayne...Zayne...oh God. Now, I remember why his name sounded so familiar...but it was too late, I thought as I lost consciousness.
__
Brittany's life has been full of heartbreaks and pain, from her father's death to her mother's manipulation and abuse, while using religion as a weapon.
She grews up with fear, guarding her virginity like a cloak because of her mother's constant words in her ears.
Until she meets Zayne, known throughout New York as the CEO for his ruthlessness, he turns out to be Mafia too.
Zayne claims her as his refusing to let her go. Will Brittany grow to love him and give him a chance after what he did to her?
What happens when she's the only one who can save him from enemies flocking around him?
__
"I'm letting you go, doll." He mumbled as he held on to me, his eyes growing weak.
My heart twisted in my chest as tears fell down my cheeks.
No... "I don't regret a thing. You taking me was the best thing that ever happened to me."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
BRITTANY'S POV
I had no idea how long I had been out but when I woke up, I found myself lying in bed.
At first, I thought it was like the first time and he must have left while I was out again.
But a quick look around told me I wasn't in the same hotel room I walked into with Zayne last night.
Last night? I wasn't sure...how did I even get here? Did I pass out or something?
Or did he knock me out? I panicked when he called my name and that was the last thing I remembered.
Why did I feel like I missed something about him? He had felt dangerous and his name sounded familiar but I couldn't remember...
What time was it? Where the hell was I? Margie must be looking for me already and losing her mind.
Right, serves her right. Maybe she would stop dragging me into things so recklessly.
I couldn't tell what time it could be at all, the room was dark and the windows were too high for me to see out of.
Why did the room have such a tangy and dark feel? Like someone had been kept here before...for a long time.
Fear ran down my spine at that moment and I got out of bed and ran towards the door wondering why the hell I hadn't tried the door the moment I woke up.
But as soon as I pushed open the door, Zayne suddenly appeared at the door looking all menacing and causing me to withdraw slowly back into the room.
I blinked severally as I collapsed against the bed. I watched him lock the door behind him.
"What the hell's going on? Where did you bring me?" I spoke, my voice sounded scratchy and hoarse.
I blushed as I remembered all the shouting I had done when we had sex.
I shook my head to clear the thoughts, embarrassed to be fantasizing like that when he was right in front of me.
"You're awake." He said. His voice washed over me and I gripped the sheets hard to force his voice out of my head.
The more he stared at me, the more dangerous I felt he was. There was something about him...
New York, clubs...that hotel Bryan held his wedding reception...his gaze...no way. It couldn't be...
Please...no...
"Who are you?" I asked weakly, as shivers ran down my spine, my head already screaming the name I already knew.
The moment I recognized him...that was why his name sounded so familiar.
"Zayne Romano." My heart stopped cold in my chest at his words.
Oh God. Zayne Romano. Billionaire CEO of Zayne Pharmaceuticals. But that wasn't what made him so intimidating.
It was his physique, the stormy grey eyes and the rumors...
Zayne wasn't just some CEO, even his company wasn't clean. It was just a cover for manufacturing drugs that served as weapons.
The news leaked when an employee got fired but everything disappeared hours after the news aired.
He was also rumored to be in the Mafia.
But that wasn't the most scary thing about Zayne. Women flocked around him and they were always in a hurry to get in his bed, even though they knew.
Zayne hated women and for him, they were just sex toys. And I just got entangled with that Zayne.
"I can tell you figured out who I am from the look on your face. I suppose you know why you're here too?" He asked.
His expression was blank, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he stared at me.
I swallowed painfully as I noticed how his muscles bulged with each movement.
God, he was gorgeous. I totally get those women...oh for crying out loud, Brit, shut it.
I drew in a deep breath, and forced myself to forget about how ridiculously good looking he looked.
"What am I doing here? Where's here?" I asked.
"My private Club." He said. My eyes widened. His private what? Something clicked in my head.
Don Zayne Private Club in New York. Everyone who was anyone knew about the club.
What the hell was I doing here? My chest was suddenly throbbing. If the rumors about the club were also true, I was in big trouble.
"Why did you bring me here? What time is it? What is this?" I said all at once as I was suddenly feeling very anxious.
He walked closer to me until he was just a foot away from me. He leaned down and his hand reached out.
I thought he was going to touch my hair or kiss me or something but he grabbed me by the hair, pulled my head back so I was staring up at him with my neck exposed.
I gasped slightly as pain shot through my scalp.
"What are you...you're hurting me..." I protested.
His eyes darkened and his face remained expressionless.
"From today, you will watch how you speak to me, doll. You're mine now." He growled.
My eyes watered and my neck ached. What the hell was he talking about? Oh God, does he really hate women?
Was he as bad as they said he was? Was I his sex toy now?
"Let me go, please...I have no idea what you're talking about..."
His other hand closed over my throat, tightening slightly.
"You belong to me now. You're never leaving this place again." He said.
I coughed, but he didn't let go of me. He held on tighter and I suspected he only stopped because he was leaving room for me to speak.
"This is a kidnapping! You kidnapped me. My friend must be looking for me. You can't just take a stranger in a hotel room home with you..."
I gasped when he tightened his grip on my neck and didn't stop. I started to choke and scratch at his hand trying to get him to stop.
But he wouldn't budge. His eyes had turned darker and for a moment, it seemed like he was someone else.
Just when I thought I was going to die _ I was literally seeing stars already _ he loosened his grip and let go of me.
He stumbled away from me, his eyes reflecting a strange look, his hands clenched into fists as I scrambled away from him until my back hit the headboard.
What the hell? Was he some kind of psychopathic sadistic serial killer? Was that why he brought me here?
My mom was right after all then? The world did turn out to be a terrible place...
"Are you going to kill me?" I asked slowly, my voice breaking. I had to be sure...
"If you don't behave...all you have to do is stay still and be a good little pet, doll." He murmured and then he turned and walked out of the room locking it behind him as he left.
What the hell did that mean? Somehow, that sounded worse than getting killed.
What was I going to do? How the hell was Margie going to find me? How the hell was anyone going to find me?
What did I get myself into? Of all the men I could have had a nightstand with, it had to be Zayne Romano.
I could see my mom laughing from her grave. She could afford to laugh. This must be her karma for spitting in her face when I had sex with Zayne.
You may also like
9.5
For two years, I lived as a ghost in the Horn manor, a world built on blood money where my every breath was monitored. Fulton Horn, my stepfather’s nephew and the executor of my life, held the golden leash around my neck, forcing me to play the role of his secret mistress while he paraded a socialite as his fiancée.
Everything shattered at a high-society gala when the scent of raw seafood made me vomit at the feet of Fulton’s future bride. The ballroom erupted in whispers of a secret pregnancy, but Fulton’s reaction wasn't concern—it was cold, predatory calculation.
He immediately forced me into a clinical "inspection" to ensure his "merchandise" was sound, then destroyed my only chance at escape by framing my friend in a scandal and blacklisting my credit. He dragged me to his penthouse, ripped my clothes, and told me I was nothing but a "placeholder" for his dead first love, Arlena.
I was drowning in his obsession, forced to model his fiancée’s engagement gown while he claimed he was the only one who could "protect" me.
"You are what I say you are," he whispered, "and you belong where I say you belong."
I didn't understand how he could be so cruel, or why he was so determined to keep me in a cage of secrets. But when I looked closer at the photo of the "original" girl he loved, my blood turned to ice. It wasn't a girl named Arlena. It was a picture of me from six years ago, smiling and unbroken.
I realized then that Fulton hadn't just found a replacement—he had spent years carefully destroying the girl I used to be so he could keep the broken pieces for himself. Reaching for the hidden keycard, I finally made a choice: I would find a way to kill the ghost he loved before he finished killing the woman I had become.
8.6
I spent three years being the perfect wife to tech mogul Cash Ferguson, a forensic accountant playing the role of a low-risk asset to stabilize his public image. My world shattered when I saw a live CNBC broadcast from Sundance showing Cash tenderly hoisting a two-year-old boy onto his hip—a secret son born to a socialite mistress while he was supposedly at a business roadshow.
When I confronted him with divorce papers, Cash didn't apologize; he laughed, calling me a "liability" and weaponizing my mother’s history of mental illness to claim I was genetically unfit to carry his heir. He didn't just reject the split; he locked the penthouse elevator and froze every one of my accounts, reclassifying me from a wife to a piece of disputed company property.
"You came from nothing, Isidora," he sneered, tossing a credit card at me like a leash. "Stop being dramatic. I can afford a pet, but don't think you can survive a day in the real world without my name."
The betrayal turned lethal when I discovered Cash had tracked down my mother’s stolen emerald brooch—my only connection to my past—and bought it as a gift for his mistress. He was using my trauma and my heritage to decorate the woman who had replaced me in his secret life.
I realized then that Cash had made a fatal accounting error: he forgot that I was the one who built his shadow accounts and knew exactly where the fraud was buried. He wanted to treat our marriage like a hostile takeover, so I decided to give him a market correction he would never forget.
I escaped down forty flights of stairs with nothing but a burner laptop and a plan to burn his empire to the ground. If he wanted to play dirty, I’d show him what happens when a forensic accountant initiates a liquidation protocol. I’m not just leaving; I’m going to make him crawl.
9.1
Selene Rivers was an upcoming singer and her future was bright until the moment when she received a phone call which was supposed to elevate her but ends up ruining her life.
During the night, she was declared a fraud, beat up on the street, run over by a car and charged with committing a crime she never committed. Her husband framed her. Her songs were stolen by her best friend. And the world thought that she was dead.
Selene lost her voice, her face and her child who she believed was dead at birth in jail.
Somebody wanted her to go permanently. The job was nearly done by a gang attack, but was rescued by billionaire Ronan Blackwood, who is the best friend of her husband, and provided her with a new name, a new face, and a second life.
Now Selene is willing to reclaim all the things that had been stolen.
With a new name she comes back to the music world and reveals the lies, the betrayal, and the secrets that took her to the hell. Her revenge, however, reveals a bigger truth, that her son is alive, and he has lived under her roof all along.
As she struggles to seek justice and reclaim her life, she begins to feel something she has never anticipated, that is, love, comfort, and security in the arms of Ronan.
Her past tried to bury her.
Her opponents attempted to mute her.
But she is done running.
This is the time she will have her voice back.
This time she will save her child.
This time, it will be her own choice of the future.
9.5
Frances survived a horrific car crash, only to return to a suffocating life. Her wealthy husband, Baron, and his domineering mother were now relentlessly pressuring her to adopt a "poor, distant relative" named Jagger as the heir to their billionaire empire.
But on her way to sign the adoption papers, a violent vision flashed in her mind. The crash wasn't an accident. She saw her car in flames, while Baron watched with cold, calculating eyes. Beside him stood an older Jagger, who calmly muttered the chilling truth.
"The problem is solved."
A private investigator soon confirmed her worst nightmares. Jagger wasn't a charity case; he was Baron's illegitimate son. The family had been illegally funneling offshore money to fund his elite lifestyle. Worse, Baron's ultimate plan was to label Frances mentally unstable, lock her away in a Swiss sanatorium for life, and bring in Jagger's biological mother to take her place.
For years, Frances had played the perfect, obedient wife in their corporate marriage contract. How could they be so ruthlessly evil, plotting her agonizing death just to legitimize their dirty bloodline and steal her trust fund?
But she was no longer the fragile puppet they thought she was. At the high-stakes board meeting, with all eyes expecting her to submit, she put the expensive pen down.
"I refuse."
Instead of adopting their bastard son, she slammed down an SEC whistleblower threat, forced a new will, and introduced her own handpicked heir. The war had just begun.
9.8
"I didn't marry you for love, Elara. I married you for the land."
Five years ago, Elara Sterling wore a gold mask and shared a night of forbidden passion with Silas Vane, the "Ice King" of Seattle. Then, she vanished.
Now, she's back-not as a socialite, but as a struggling mother desperate to save her son. But Silas isn't the man she remembers. He's cold, powerful, and he just bought her father's debt.
The terms of the "Sterling Clause" are simple: Marry him for one year, and her debts are erased. But there's a catch. Silas doesn't just want the Sterling Port; he wants the son he never knew he had.
As Elara steps into a world of vipers and corporate sabotage, she must decide: Is she a wife, a prisoner, or the only woman powerful enough to melt the Ice King's heart?
In the game of power, love is the ultimate hostile takeover.
9.5
I married Clive Harrington, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan, under a strict contract that forbade any emotional burdens. When I needed a high-risk surgery to save my sight, I checked into the clinic alone, hiding the procedure from a husband who saw me as nothing more than a legal asset.
I thought I could handle the darkness in silence. But while I was blind and bandaged in my hospital bed, my biological mother called, screaming that if I didn't produce a Harrington heir by the end of the fiscal year, she would cut off the life-saving treatments for my disabled sister.
I was crawling on the cold hospital floor, desperately feeling for a cane I had dropped, when I touched a pair of expensive leather shoes. It was Clive. He was supposed to be in London closing a multi-million dollar deal, but there he was, watching his "contract wife" groveling in the dark like a beggar.
He didn't walk away in disgust. He carried me to a five-thousand-dollar-a-night VIP suite and sat by my bed, listening in chilling silence as another voicemail from my mother filled the room, calling me a "useless broodmare" who was only worth the trust fund disbursements my marriage secured.
I expected him to remind me of Clause 34B or hand me divorce papers now that I was "damaged goods." Instead, I felt his thumb brush a stray tear from my cheek, his presence shifting from a statue of ice into a predatory shield.
"I thought I was just currency to you," I whispered, my voice trembling behind the gauze. "Just an investment."
Clive didn't answer with words. He picked up his phone and called his head of legal with a single, terrifying command: "Kill the Douglas family’s credit lines. Every debt, every lien—trigger them all. If they want a war, I’ll give them a massacre."
As he leaned down to kiss my bandaged forehead, I realized the contract was dead. My husband wasn't protecting an asset anymore; he was hunting the people who had dared to touch what belonged to him.