Tarnished Tyrant - A Mafia Romance
I got pregnant from a one-night-stand.
I wasn't going to tell the father...
Until I walked into the office and found out he's my new boss.
Here's some advice: Don't sleep with your boss.
Here's some more: Don't sleep with your married boss.
And while I'm at it: Don't sleep with your married, dangerous, billionaire, completely-incapable-of-feeling boss, because all he's going to do is break your heart and your body and leave you to cry in the ashes.
But I've never been good at taking my own advice.
In my defense, I didn't know that Nikolai Zhukova was any of those things when we met.
I just thought he was the gray-eyed sinner in first class.
And when I started having a panic attack at the sudden turbulence, I thought he was the kind soul calming me down.
But Nikolai is the farthest thing from kind.
He's cruel, he's powerful, he's arrogant.
And now, according to the test in my hand...
He's the father of my baby.
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Chapter 4
He slides his hand up and starts unbuttoning my jeans.
"Tell me to stop," he says. "Tell me you don't want this."
I do the exact opposite: I lift my hips and help him peel my jeans down my legs, my body moving like it's in a trance.
"Why?" I squeak.
Why on earth would I do that? Why would anyone feel this man's hands on their skin and tell him to stop? I can't imagine a straight woman alive who's foolish enough to turn this down.
He grips my panties and yanks them down, leaving me naked from the waist down on the small counter. But I'm so fixated watching him unzip his pants and pull out his gloriously thick cock that I can't find the energy to be embarrassed.
"Because if you don't," he says, gripping his length and pressing himself against my entrance, "I'm going to fuck you until you scream so loud that everyone on this plane can hear you."
I can't help gasping and sputtering like a fish on dry land. "I... I... I..."
Distantly, I can feel the plane still trembling. I know that all my problems will still exist when we're back on the ground.
But right now, I'm flying high.
And I want to make the most of it before I land.
I wrap my arms around his neck. "I want this."
In one thrust, Nikolai pushes inside of me. I tip my head back against the mirror and moan.
"I knew you'd be tight," Nikolai grits out.
"I knew you'd be big."
Nikolai pulls back and smiles down at me. "Maybe you do know all the right things to say, after all."
I smile, but then he slides out and thrusts back into me, and just like that, I can't smile anymore. Or talk. Or think.
His massive hands palm my thighs, hooking my legs around his waist as he fills me with one savage thrust after another. Then he slides his hand between us again, his thumb circling over my clit, and a jolt of electricity courses through me.
"Oh my God," I moan.
"You like that?" he asks, his voice rough.
I don't say anything. I'm too busy falling to pieces in his hand. So he asks again.
"Do you like that, Belle?"
The way he says my name, his tongue languishing over the double L... It's the sexiest thing I've ever heard.
"Tell me," he commands. "Tell me what you like. What you want."
"Yes," I gasp. "I like... all of it. You. I like it."
His thumb is moving over me faster now, flicking and massaging until I'm seeing stars.
"That's not good enough. You need to tell me exactly what you want."
The pressure is ratcheting up higher and higher, and all I want is... is...
"I want to come," I gasp.
He thrusts into me to the hilt. "Then do it. Come for me like a good girl."
Oh, for the love of God.
I break.
My orgasm is like the sun coming through the clouds after a rainstorm. It happens suddenly and there's no stopping it, no dimming it.
I moan, my muscles contracting and releasing. Cries of pleasure climb up my throat.
Nikolai clamps his hand over my mouth, swallowing my shouts until I'm limp against him. My body is spent, but when I look down, he's still hard.
I frown. "It... it didn't happen for you?"
"Don't worry." He brushes his thumb-the same thumb that sent me over the edge-across my lower lip. "It will."
Then he tears me off the counter and spins me around so I'm facing the mirror, Nikolai floating like a golden angel over my shoulder. He grips my hips and slides into me again.
The angle is different and my mouth falls open. I lean forward, taking him deeper, wanting more and more and all of him.
Distantly, I'm aware of the plane's vibrations, of the fact that dozens of passengers are sitting mere feet away with just a rickety plastic door between us. But the world has narrowed to encompass only this. Only this room. Only us.
My anxiety and fear are gone, pounded out of me by the man with the silver eyes.
"They'll hear us," I whimper.
"Let them." Nikolai drives into me harder. "I want this whole plane to hear you come again."
"It's never happened for me twice." I'm almost embarrassed to admit it. Then again, I'm bent over a sink in front of a stranger. Maybe nothing is embarrassing anymore.
Nikolai smirks in the mirror. "First time for everything."
He wraps his hand around my leg and lifts my knee up to the corner of the sink. I'm still trying to get situated when he slides all the way out of me and then slams into the hilt.
"Oh my God," I moan. "It's so-"
"Deep," he breathes.
With every thrust, he's touching places inside of me that have never been touched. My thighs start to quiver and before I can properly prepare myself, another orgasm is rocketing through me.
This one is even more powerful than the last. My muscles contract, my body clamping down around Nikolai's length.
And then I feel the handsome stranger pulsing into me.
He grunts as he drives all the way in. His sounds and his thrusts fade little by little until there's just the white noise of the roaring engines and my own panting breath.
When we're done, I hurry to put my leg down and stand up. Warning bells are going off in my head.
What have I done? Who have I done?
He could be married. Or a murderer. He could be a married murderer. Nikolai might not even be his real name!
The same panic that was just sexed out of me starts to creep back in, but I swallow it down.
I feel warmth flowing down the inside of my legs, the evidence of what we've done painted between my thighs.
Nikolai zips his pants and reaches for the door handle. "Get dressed and we'll leave together."
He stares at me while I wipe off my legs and tug on my jeans. Whatever boldness had briefly possessed me, it's gone now. I'm a walking, talking blush.
"Okay," I say softly once I've fixed my lipstick in the mirror and smoothed down my hair. "I'm ready."
Nikolai opens the door without looking at me. The flight attendants are moving about the cabin now. At some point while we were in there, the seatbelt light turned off. An older woman with curly gray hair is waiting outside the bathroom door. If she overheard anything that happened inside, she doesn't make it known.
I follow Nikolai down the center aisle. When he reaches his seat, I nearly follow him, before I remember where I'm supposed to sit.
I hesitate for a second, waiting to see if he'll look up at me and offer a smile or a wave. Some kind of recognition for what we just did together in the bathroom.
But he doesn't look up.
And as pathetic as I may be sometimes, I'm not desperate enough to embarrass myself by begging for his attention.
So I keep walking to my seat.
Before I sit, I glance at the row behind me where Elise is sitting. She has her legs curled up underneath her and her head resting on her folded-up sweatshirt. She's fast asleep. Looks like she has been for a while.
"Figures," I mumble. I shake my head and drop down into my chair.
I can still see Nikolai's squared jaw from back here, but he looks farther away than ever. If it wasn't for the ache between my legs, I could believe it was all a dream.
Maybe it would be better that way. For the Handsome Stranger to fade away like a dream you can barely remember after waking.
Maybe then everything that happened next wouldn't have hurt so bad.
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8.7
Explicit 18+ | Reader Discretion Strongly Advised
Dark themes, noncon/dubcon, extreme kink, power imbalance, group dynamics, knotting, overstimulation, and possessive claiming ahead.
A brutal omegaverse world. Warring packs. Rare silver-eyed omega Kai Voss lives hidden until a midnight raid destroys his safety.
The most feared triad captures him: Thorne Blackwood, a pierced sadist who pushes limits; Aurelius Voss, the volatile second, his knot pulsing with hunger; Cassian Reyes, the silent, amber-eyed observer whose fixation vows complete ownership. Dragged to their mountain den, Kai becomes their prize.
Defiant and sharp-tongued, Kai resists every command. His body betrays him with slick, aching need. On the first night, the alphas take him, one by one, then together. They stretch him past reason. Knot him impossibly. Fill him until his rim thins visibly. Slick eases the searing burn into shattering pleasure.
"Room for one more?" Thorne growls, forcing his pierced length beside the two already locked inside. He drags across sensitive spots until Kai arches, tears falling, his body yielding as omega instincts beg for more.
Three cocks locked and throbbing, owning him entirely.
"Fuck, he's taking us all," Aurelius groans.
Cassian watches silently, eyes blazing, plotting the next step to remake Kai forever.
Raw conquest becomes unbreakable obsession: relentless heats, punishments blending pain and ecstasy, jealous rivalries over cries, rare tenderness binding possession deeper.
Three ruthless alphas pursue the forbidden, shattering their defiant omega until he is stretched wide, ruined, reborn in their image. Relentless desire shows no mercy: tight entrances forced open, rimmed raw by impossible girths, slick-soaked and pulsing under unyielding ownership.
Hide and read in secret. Once the story begins, escape is impossible. Squirm. Ache. Hunger for every page.
DON'T BLAME ME WHEN YOU CAN'T STOP READING ALL 150 CHAPTERS ⚠️🔞‼️
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.
9.1
I drowned in freezing pool water, the mocking laughter of the elite Savage family echoing in my ears.
When I opened my eyes, I was an eight-year-old orphan again, right on the day those monsters came to adopt me.
Terrified of repeating my hellish past, I ran down the hallway and desperately grabbed the shirt of a random, dumpy IT guy, begging him to take me instead.
I thought I had chosen a weak, boring suburban dad to hide behind.
But I was completely wrong.
My new mom greeted me with a ceramic tactical knife hidden in her apron.
My clumsy dad sliced dinner ribs with the terrifying precision of a seasoned hitman.
My ten-year-old brother was a dead-eyed sociopath who immediately calculated my bone density.
They were a family of lethal underworld monsters, yet they frantically pretended to be a normal, pathetic household just for me.
7.8
For five years, I was the flawless wife to the heir of the De Luca empire, securing billion-dollar acquisitions to prove my worth.
But my husband, Alessandro, still paraded his mistress in our home, publicly humiliating me as a "cold spreadsheet" while she sneered in triumph.
It didn't stop at infidelity. When I dared to cut off her credit cards, Alessandro decided to teach me a lesson.
He allowed his mistress to secretly file down the metal clasp on my horse's saddle right before a massive public equestrian event.
My leg was completely shattered in a horrific, agonizing fall in front of hundreds of elite guests.
While I lay bleeding in the dirt, my husband didn't even glance my way. Instead, he rushed to hold his mistress, shielding her eyes from the gruesome sight.
Later, pretending to be unconscious in the infirmary, I overheard him ordering his guards.
"Get rid of the saddle. It was just a lesson to remind her who's in charge."
He didn't just want me humiliated; he wanted me crippled and broken.
As the sterile smell of the hospital hit me, a horrifying realization set in—I was two weeks late. I was pregnant with his child.
The thought of my baby growing up in this ruthless, toxic family made my blood run cold, and the last spark of my love turned into absolute hatred.
The obedient wife died on that dirt track.
I quietly contacted his family's biggest rival and activated my secret scorched-earth protocol. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.
9.6
was a witness to a murder I wasn't supposed to see. I expected a bullet; I got a golden cage."
Ivy Thorne is a nobody-a struggling cellist with a mountain of medical bills and a past she can't remember. Her life changes in a heartbeat when she witnesses Kaelen Volkov, the Mafia's most lethal enforcer, executing a traitor in a dark alley.
She should be dead. But Kaelen doesn't pull the trigger. Instead, he sees the star-shaped birthmark on her neck and makes a choice that will ignite a war. To save her from his father's wrath, he claims her as his own.
Now, Ivy is trapped in a world of blood and silk, forced to play the role of Kaelen's devoted fiancée. He's cold, scarred, and dangerous, yet he treats her like a priceless treasure he's been waiting years to reclaim. As the lines between her fear and her desire begin to blur, Ivy realizes that Kaelen isn't just protecting her from the Mafia-he's hiding a secret about her past that could shatter her world.
In the Volkov empire, loyalty is everything and debt is paid in blood. But for Ivy, the highest price might be her heart.
9.2
I am the last surviving Rossi, a hostage kept alive solely to be a breeding vessel for the rival Falcone mafia family.
The Underboss's wife, Cecile, stripped me bare, slapped me fiercely, and forced me into black lace to warm her husband's bed.
"You are nothing but a temporary container to breed the heir I cannot give my husband."
She planned to steal my future child and dispose of me the moment I served my purpose.
In this ruthless estate, her maids and Damien's mistresses mocked me constantly, waiting for the dirty Rossi leftover to be discarded like trash.
I remembered my family begging for mercy right before they were slaughtered by Falcone soldiers.
Submission in their world only meant a faster execution.
Why should I just accept my fate as a disposable incubator while the monsters who ruined my bloodline paraded as untouched royalty?
Instead of cowering, I mercilessly rubbed my bruised cheek until it turned a vicious purple, biting my lip until it bled.
I walked into Damien's study, looking the ruthless Underboss dead in the eye.
"Cecile can give him a name, but I will give him a spine."
When Damien saw my ruined face and heard my defiance, the cold monster finally snapped.
He didn't just protect his property; he publicly stripped his wife of her power, banished his mistresses, and locked the family's reigning sapphires around my neck.
Cecile thought she was sending me to the slaughterhouse, but she had just handed me the throne.