Servant to the Mafia Lord
Desperate to save her dying mother, Ariana Moreno walks straight into the world of the mafia.
Elijah Fiorensco is danger wrapped in power-cold, ruthless, and used to owning everything he touches... including her.
"And who the fuck is that guy?!" he roared, veins bulging in his neck.
"I–I... he's my friend," I stammered, fear creeping into my voice as his rage swallowed the room.
"Listen to me," he growled, fingers tightening around my throat. "The next time I see you with that bastard, I'll kill him-brutally-right in front of you. Don't ever try me, Ariana."
In a world ruled by his obsession, loyalty and rage. One wrong move could made her loose everything.
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Chapter 3
Ariana Moreno
"What?!"
I was far beyond shocked. Strip naked? I had never even worn something like this before in all my twenty-one years. Now... completely naked?
From the moment my eyes landed on him, I knew he was dangerous. The kind of man I should run away from immediately. But how?
Stupidly, I found myself strangely attracted to him. His face was sharp and well defined, every feature fitting together in perfect balance. His chest was wide and strong, tattoos staining his porcelain skin.
I knew right then that I was doomed-because who the fuck feels attraction toward someone they're supposed to be afraid of?
I was still standing there in shock, trying to figure out what to do or say, when my gaze drifted downward.
That was when I realized something terrifying.
I had been standing in a top room the entire time.
And what the fuck was happening underground?
Was that... live sex?
Women walked around completely naked. A threesome. A foursome. Girls fucking themselves openly. Men watching, touching, taking turns.
This was hell.
I had never seen anything like this before-not even in movies.
He walked closer to me again, and I couldn't move anymore. My back hit the wall.
"Little thing is distracted by the underground club," he murmured dangerously close to my ear. "Would you like to join them too? Or maybe try those acts yourself?"
"No..." I muttered immediately.
"You're not taking off your clothes and dancing?" he reminded, his fingers already reaching for the tiny piece of fabric holding my breasts.
One thing I had noticed about him-he was impatient.
"I'll do it... myself," I said quickly, grabbing his hand.
But it was too late.
My breasts bounced free, fully exposed.
I gasped and covered myself immediately.
"You should stop this!" I yelled.
"You do not raise your voice at me!" he yelled back, pinning my hands against the wall.
My breasts were completely naked to his gaze now, with no way to hide them.
"You can't hide anything from me, little thing," he said slowly. "I own it now."
He lowered his head and kissed my nipples softly.
As much as I hated to admit it, I enjoyed every touch. A spark shot through my body, my skin reacting to him against my will.
He fondled my breasts, his hands roaming freely, setting my body on fire.
This was wrong.
It had to stop.
But how?
He suddenly lifted me into his arms in a bridal style and laid me flat on the table.
"It needs to stop when your body reacts like this?" he asked, taking one of my breasts into his mouth.
I moaned despite myself.
"Oh... Elijah," I whispered, my fingers sliding into his hair.
He continued touching me everywhere until his hand reached my panties. He teased me slowly, deliberately, before finally touching me.
My body flinched and I grabbed his wrist.
"Oh..." I moaned again.
"This is the first time someone is doing this to you?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.
I nodded.
"Wait..." He paused and pulled back slightly. "You're a virgin?"
He moved away from me completely.
Strangely, disappointment settled in my chest.
He stood there watching me for a moment before helping me off the table. He picked up a jacket from the chair and slipped it over my body. It was long enough to reach my knees.
"Listen, little thing," he said calmly. "I'm not a good man. Fuck that-I'm not even close to being one."
He met my eyes.
"So I'm letting you go now. My guards will escort you home safely. And listen to me carefully-do not come here again."
His tone hardened.
"Bad people fill this place. People who would do things to you you've never experienced before. Including me. And if our paths cross again... I won't resist."
He bent down and kissed me gently.
I couldn't say a word. I just stared at him, my eyes wide and innocent.
To be honest... it wasn't just him.
I wanted it too.
He summoned his guards.
"She must not get hurt," he ordered coldly.
They bowed.
I waved at him slightly, and he smirked.
I followed the bodyguards out of the room.
I should have been relieved. I should have been happy he let me go.
So why did I feel empty?
Why did I feel... lost?
I entered the car they had prepared and glanced back at the club one last time.
So much had happened in one night.
And now...
The plan had changed.
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7.5
The Duke was standing in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, his head tilted to one side. It was a relaxed, casual pose, and yet the way he looked at her was anything but casual. The deep midnight of his eyes burned and he radiated a subtle, sensual energy that made the air around him crackle.
He looked like a man who'd never heard the word 'no' in all his life. Unluckily for him, 'no' was the only word she had.
"There's no reason why I should stay," Anna clasped her shaking hands together in an effort to still them. "I'm not marrying you."
His gaze flickered, his mouth curving slightly, and she had the disturbing thought that far from putting him off, her insistence was only inciting him further.
"But you haven't heard my proposal yet," he said mildly. "Isn't that why you're here?"
"I don't need to hear it. I already know that my answer will be no."
"Of course. But you can hardly tell your father that you heard me out when you haven't, in fact, heard me out.... Anna."
8.2
Overwhelmed by hatred and distress, the young Alpha Kaiden swears to make his brother pay the price of his betrayal...
When her lover defected the King without any warning, the vengeful new Alpha had already come to the poor human girl Ophelia , claiming that she should pay the debt.
***
"You will beg me to fuck you if you want your lover to live," Alpha King Kaiden had lost all his humanity.
"How dare you do this? I'm your brother's mate!" Ophelia whimpered, holding her hands to her breasts.
"That brother who wanted my crown and my life? Fuck him and fuck you!" The furious Alpha didn't care about it anymore.
He wanted revenge!
He grasped her hands and pinned them over her head. Her beautiful body appeared as the silk cloth quickly slid down.
She's damn gorgeous when she was completely naked!
"Well, no wonder my brother wanted to fuck you," Kaiden taunted with a smirk, "but now it's I who will be the one to steal your virginity." Kaiden claimed as he tighten her waist, making her approaching to his d*ck.
"Pl----ease do------nt," her voice was drowned out while his wild kiss fell on her lips.
At this moment, Ophelia knew her life now became a disaster...
8.4
I was drugged and sent to a hotel room to be compromised, but I ended up in the presidential suite with a stranger.
I didn't know the man I clung to in my hallucinogenic haze was my own husband, Devaughn Winters, a man I hadn't spoken to in a year.
When I woke up the next morning, the terror of what I’d done hit me like a physical blow. I fled, leaving behind nothing but a shredded dress and a lingering sense of dread.
I thought I’d finally escaped the cold, suffocating contract of our marriage when I signed the divorce papers, but I was wrong.
My mother-in-law arrived at my apartment, freezing my sick mother’s medical funds and threatening to ruin me for the "infidelity" she claimed I’d committed.
She dragged my secrets into the light, leaving me with no choice but to fight back with a knife in my hand and a 911 call on speaker.
But just as I thought I was free, the man I’d spent the night with—the man who was supposed to be my stranger—tore up our divorce papers and declared that I was his to keep.
I was a pawn in a game I didn't understand, trapped between a ruthless father who wanted to sell me for corporate secrets and a husband who demanded I belong to him in life and in death.
How did he not know who I was that night, and why is he suddenly claiming me as his own?
I’m done being a victim, and if he thinks he can own me, he’s about to find out exactly what happens when a cornered woman decides to burn it all down.
9.3
I lay on the wet asphalt, the cold rain mixing with the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. My lungs were heavy, filling with fluid as my life ebbed away. Through swollen eyelids, I saw my lover, Clovis, and my stepsister, Alanna, standing over me with looks of pure triumph.
"Thanks for the trust fund, sister," Alanna whispered, shoving a phone screen in front of my dying eyes. The headline was a jagged blade to my soul: Caesar Williamson, the "tyrant" husband I had fled from, was dead in a multi-car collision. He had died trying to rescue me, thinking I was in danger.
The realization shattered what was left of my heart. The man I had spent years painting as a monster had driven into hell to save me, while the man I thought was my safety was the one who had just crushed my ribs with an iron bar. I had played right into their hands, ruining my reputation and my marriage for a lie. I watched them walk away, leaving me to choke on my own blood in the dark, discarded like a bag of trash.
I wanted to scream, to beg the universe for a rewind button, to tell Caesar I was sorry. The darkness pressed down on me, heavier than the betrayal, as my world finally went black.
Then, I was screaming.
I shot up in bed, gasping for air like a drowning woman breaking the surface. I scrambled at my abdomen—smooth skin, no blood, no tear. I grabbed my phone and saw the date: it was three years ago, the morning of my wedding to the Williamson estate.
I didn't waste a second. I scrubbed the "unstable" makeup from my face, threw on a white silk dress, and blocked the man who would eventually kill me. This time, I wasn't running away from the manor. I was going back to the husband I had once feared, ready to save the only man who had ever truly loved me.
7.9
The rain was a solid sheet of gray as the black SUV rammed into my car, sending me spiraling over the guardrail. As the glass shattered and the world turned upside down, a searing pain ripped through my chest before everything went cold and dark.
I didn’t stay in the darkness. My spirit hovered ten feet in the air, watching the steam hiss from my mangled sedan.
I followed the magnetic pull of my soul back to my family estate, expecting to find them devastated. Instead, I found my stepmother, Florene, and my sister, Kassidy, pouring vintage champagne and laughing in the drawing room.
"To the end of the nuisance," Florene said, her eyes gleaming with greed. "The trust fund unlocks at midnight. We're finally rich."
The betrayal cut deeper than the metal that killed me, but the real shock came at my funeral. Hiram Tyson—the cold, masked husband I’d spent three years fearing—collapsed over my closed casket. He unbuckled his silver mask, revealing a face ruined by scars, and sobbed a name I hadn't heard since childhood.
"I'm sorry, Angel. I thought keeping you at arm's length would keep the darkness away."
He wasn't the monster I thought he was. He was the boy I had saved at the orphanage years ago, and he had been protecting me in silence while my own family plotted my murder.
I reached out to touch him, but the world exploded into a blinding white light.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in a casket. I was back in our bedroom, feeling the heavy weight of Hiram’s arm across my waist. The calendar on the nightstand read September 14, 2023—exactly one year before the crash.
I looked at the silver mask resting on the table and felt a cold, hard determination settle in my chest. This time, I wasn't going to be the victim. I was going to be the villain in their story and burn their world to the ground.
8.3
The hospital ceiling was a blinding white, and I was losing my baby in a pool of rusty red. Because of my selective mutism, I couldn't scream as the doctors demanded a next-of-kin signature for the emergency surgery I needed to survive.
With trembling hands, I called my husband, Julius.
The line clicked open to the sound of cheering and a baby's first cry. Julius wasn't at work; he was in a delivery room, holding another woman's hand.
"I'm right here, Chanelle. One last push. You can do it."
When he finally realized I was on the line, his warmth vanished instantly.
"Elinor? I'm busy. Don't call just to breathe on the line."
He hung up while I was hemorrhaging on the gurney. Minutes later, my mother-in-law appeared not with comfort, but with a lawyer and a legal waiver.
"Sign away any claim your lost child gave you, or you don't get a cent for this procedure."
I signed the paper with a hand slick with blood, watching my child’s existence be erased for a few more minutes of life. When I returned home, Julius didn't ask if I was okay. He called me "barren" and "hysterical" while his mother forced a tray of raw, bloody organs into my hands, demanding I cook a recovery meal for the mistress.
They thought my silence was a weakness, a padlock they could keep locked forever. They didn't know I was a forensic accountant with a secret crypto fortune and the original blueprints for every design the mistress had ever stolen from me.
I realized then that I wasn't an incubator or a maid—I was the one who held the keys to their entire financial empire.
I took off my five-carat ring, tossed it into the fireplace, and sent a single message to a lawyer.
"It's time for total war."