THE DON'S SECRET OBSESSION ( His Bride, Her Prison)
I never wanted any part in this. But I have no choice. With a deep sigh, I force down an invisible lump in my throat, looking up at the priest.
I press my fingers tighter into the flower I am holding, hoping it hides how much I am shaking. Dreading the words the priest is about to utter.
"Do you, Ariella Cecilia Boone, take Dermos Salvatore to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The priest asks.
I blink.
I badly want to say it, badly want to scream that I am not Ariella Cecilia Boone.
My lips tremble as I force the truth down my throat, "Yes, I do." I murmur, my voice a little over a whisper.
~~~~
Ariel Hannah Boone didn't know what life had in store for her when she woke up on her twin sister's wedding day, only to find out her sister had run away.
She went into panic when her mother insisted she take her place because Dermos Salvatore was no man to joke with.
Dermos was the most feared Don in the whole of Sicily, one who killed without care. A blood thirsty murderer with no remorse.
In an attempt to save her family from his wrath, she takes her sister's place at the wedding.
Pain, suffering, and betrayal are all she knows the moment she became his. Secrets begin to unveil as she realises her family isn't what it seems.
And when whispers of her sister's disappearance reach her, she finds out the truth.
He never wanted Ariella; it had always been her.
Ariel has to choose between a love built on lies or betraying her sister and family.
She was his bride, and he was her prison, yet he would never let her go.
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Chapter 6
Chapter 6
My eyes flutter open, but the lights cause me to shut them back. Without thinking, I raise my head only to be met with a banging headache.
What the hell happened?
I try to focus my vision causing me to slowly pry my lids open. I look around, only for my eyes to meet those cold gazes.
Dermos is lounging on the soft couch in front of my bed, eyes calculating as he rests his jaw on his palm with his elbows pressing on his thighs.
God, he looks so handsome. A strand of his hair falls forward. I don't know if it's a mistake or on purpose, but it still looks so damned good.
He is dressed in a pair of joggers and a simple top that contracts his muscles in this position.
Holy hell, he looks exactly like sin.
"When you are done gawking, let me know so you can explain why my men found you outside bleeding." His sharp voice snaps me out of my daydreaming.
Damnit! I can't look at him like that. He belongs to Ariella.
"Umm." Words fail me as I try to rack my brain for what to say.
I can't say Luciana hit me because I don't even have proof. I didn't see her hit me, but she had to be the one, right?
There was no one else there with us except the girls, and the girls weren't even that close.
"Cat got your tongue?" He barks, flexing his hands as he presses his back into the couch, his eyes not leaving my pale form for once.
I raise my hand, pressing it to the back of my head to check the injury. It feels rough, but the patch is also small, which means it isn't a major injury.
"I don't have the patience, nor do I have all day to sit here and watch you jog your memories. So I will ask one last time, what the hell happened?" he snaps, his voice filled with venom as his eyes darken.
I move uncomfortably, trying to get the words out yet all I could come up with was, "I fell. Sorry, I got you worried."
"You fell? How the hell did you fall that hard and have an injury at the back of your head when you fell on your face?" He questions, his eyelids slowly closing to squint at me.
Damn, he is a work of art. Focus Ariel.
"I was taking a tour and didn't see the stone there, which caused me to trip, and when I fell, I hit my head on a stone too. I turned in order to feel where the pain was coming from, and then I passed out." I grit my teeth, letting the lies tumble out smoothly
I pray he believes me, heavens please let him believe me.
I press my back to the bed, wanting nothing more than to sink inside, but then he will know something is up, so I have to be brave.
Even though I just want to piss myself, I keep my eyes on him until he nods before gracefully rising to his feet.
"Well, I am glad that you are fine. I have to go now. Rest, and don't wander about again." He warns, causing me to nod like a five-year-old.
Satisfied with my response, he turns and walks out. Immediately, I let out the breath I was holding.
Oh Lord, I pray I don't have a heart attack by next month. All this acting is getting to me.
~~~
"I told you to stay inside, didn't I?" I nod my head, refusing to look up from biting my nails, not wanting to be scolded like a five-year-old.
Yes, he told me to stay inside. Did I? Of course not, I got bored and decided to finish my tour, causing me to get lost in the maze of flowers covering half the front yard.
Why he has a maze is still a mystery to me.
"So why did you leave the room and wander?" He questions, his voice calm and steady.
Yet the way his jaw clenches and his fist tightens tells me he is anything but calm.
"I got bored again, and I couldn't stop thinking about the whore house I found. Wondering why you have that? Do you traffic girls?" I can't help but ask.
Dammit, I said I wouldn't speak about it.
Dermos snaps his head to look at me, his muscles contracting inside his suit.
Guess he just came back from work before I called, crying. I was lost.
"It's part of my business, and I won't have you questioning me." He growls, taking a step back before turning.
I followed after him, not quite satisfied with his words.
"But you sell them to men, that's ridiculous and cruel. They have a life, they are humans, so why would you do that--"
"Ariella, you are aware of this. Last time we had this conversation, you seemed really fine with it, so why the change of heart?" He halts his steps, turning to look at me.
Again!
My whole face pales as I realize I am once again out of character.
I straighten up, clearing my throat before speaking, " I am fine with it, it's just--"
"Good for you." He cuts me off again, and it makes me want to yank his hair out.
My voice and opinions are important too. Why won't he let me speak?
" Go to bed, Ariella, and mind your business. I don't want to have to punish you." He warns us before taking a different turn once we are in front of the house's back door.
Urghhh!! I stomp my foot in annoyance. He is so damn rude.
Without thinking, I push open the door and walk in, only to stop once I hear some voices.
I inch closer to the side of the door, making sure I am also out of sight.
They seem to be inside a room. Is that Carlos I hear?
"Luciana, it isn't like that. You are wrong." Yes, that voice is definitely Carlos.
But why is he in a room with Luciana?
If there is one trait I am known for, it is being a curious cat. As they say, curiosity kills the cat, yet I am not dead.
Hahh.
"You are getting too close to Donna. I don't like it. You know godfa--"
"I don't care. Mind your own damn business, and go sort your girls." His voice is clipped and sharp, like he is repulsed by her.
Okay, definitely not my business. I cross the room, heading to the kitchen, when I suddenly remember Isabella.
The fear in her eyes, the way her hands trembled. What exactly has she been through within these walls?
I need to find her. Taking a step, my whole body halts when I hear small sobs coming from the room beside the kitchen.
Who is that?
Slowly but surely, I push open the door only to find Isabella crying on a bed.
"Isabella? Are you okay?" I murmur, padding my feet forward towards her bed.
"No, Donna, no one must see you with me. They will kill me, you have to go." She jolts out of her bed, tears running down her cheeks.
"I don't understand," I murmur, taking a step back.
"This is a house full of torment. Run while you can. Run, Donna." She says her voice frantically as she presses her fingernails into my palm.
"Wha--" the words are barely out of my lips when a pounding on the door has me stumbling.
"You wrench, what are you doing?" An unfamiliar voice calls.
Isabella's eyes widen, urging me to hide, but as I turn to make a move, the door slams open.
"What the hell are you doing?" She booms.
Oh crap.
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9.4
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
7.6
I was arranging white lilies on the cold marble of my husband's grave when I saw a ghost.
Walking through the cemetery gates was a man who looked exactly like my dead husband, Dante.
Logic said it was his twin brother, Matteo. But a wife knows the slope of a man's shoulders. She knows the arrogant tilt of his chin.
My husband hadn't been blown up in a car bomb three years ago.
He had faked his death to steal his brother's rank, his fortune, and his mistress.
For three years, I had forced our son, Leo, to kiss a photograph goodnight. We lived in a damp, peeling apartment, surviving on the "charity" of the Family.
Meanwhile, Dante was living in a mansion, driving cars that cost more than my life, playing house with another woman.
When he came to our cramped apartment to drop off the monthly "pension" money, pretending to be Uncle Matteo, he didn't look at me with love. He looked at his watch.
When Leo ran to hug him, shouting "Papa," Dante peeled the boy's small arms off his expensive suit like he was removing a piece of lint.
"Don't call me that," he snapped. "I am your Uncle."
My grief turned into ice. He chose another woman's comfort over his own son's hunger.
I grabbed Leo's hand and walked out the door.
"You walk away, and you get nothing!" Dante shouted after me. "You'll be on the street!"
I didn't stop. I walked straight to the black SUV idling at the curb.
The window rolled down, revealing Salvatore Vitiello. The Don. The most lethal man in the city.
"Get in, Elena," he commanded.
I opened the door and slid onto the leather seat next to the devil himself.
As we drove away, leaving my husband in the dust, I realized I had just traded a liar for a killer.
And I didn't regret it for a second.
8.1
Trigger Warning: This book is extremely dark, containing themes of obsession, strong sexual content, abuse, and psychological manipulation. Read at your own risk.
"I'll delete the pictures depending on how obedient you are. You have to do everything I say. If I want you to become a dog, you get on your knees and bark. Do we have a deal?"
Pierce leans down to Malakai's height, his lips brushing the shell of his ear, close enough to taste his fear.
"You don't want her to know what a dirty little creep you are, do you?"
Malakai Kreston is the preacher's perfect son. Quiet. Obedient. The kind of boy no one looks at twice.
But Malakai has a filthy secret. And he'll do anything-anything-to keep it buried.
Enter Pierce Masterson.
Wealthy. Attractive. Pierce doesn't just want Malakai's secret. He wants Malakai. All of him. His fear. His obedience. His body. His mind.
Pierce wants to own it, and lock it away where no one else can ever touch it.
Kai has always been the hunter-watching from the shadows, obsessing in silence, taking what doesn't belong to him.
Now someone is hunting him.
And Pierce doesn't play fair. He plays dirty.
How far can you run when the devil already knows every dark corner of your soul?
In a game of predator and prey, the lines blur. The roles reverse. And the most dangerous thing isn't the boy who holds the blackmail-
It's the moment Malakai stops wanting to be free.
7.6
My ex-husband, Reese Beaumont, sent me divorce papers on our anniversary, five years after I walked down the aisle to join him. I signed them with a red lipstick and sent them back to him, with a short note which read: "I am not going to give you the liberty of thinking you still own me."
Now, one year later, he is standing in my office, the smug look in his eyes gone, and for some reason, still wearing our wedding ring.
"You're still mine, Roxanne. You didn't sign the divorce papers, and you seem to forget that you're nothing without me."
A soft chuckle escape my lips, right as my fake fiancé walks in, holding our one-year-old son. The son Reese never knew I was pregnant with.
"Funny," I mutter. "Because I don't remember you being in control of the game."
Now, he's everywhere, showing up at my gallery and outbidding my fake fiancé at my auctions. Telling the media we are on the road to reconciliation.
But I am not the same woman who cried for him one year ago.
I am the woman he never expected to walk out the door. And the one he'll always regret letting go.
9.2
I was sold to Damien Russo, the ruthless Don of Chicago, as collateral in a shipping route transaction. I was expected to be a silent, obedient bride in a cold, loveless marriage.
But the moment I stepped into the Russo estate, I realized my new family wanted to completely destroy me.
My mother-in-law, Eleonora, and her arrogant relatives immediately targeted me. They set traps in the solarium, mocked my late mother's heritage, and tried to force me into humiliating submission using their strict mafia traditions. They wanted to break my spirit so Damien would replace me with the bride they actually wanted—a purebred mafia princess. They expected me to cower in fear, isolated and helpless, while the whole family watched my public humiliation and waited for my downfall.
Did they really think I was just a fragile girl who would cry and run away? They completely underestimated the survival instincts of a woman who grew up in this bloody world. I learned long ago that tears are worthless.
"My rules are simple. Vendetta is a two-way street."
Instead of breaking, I smiled. I weaponized their own legendary ancestors and the sacred promise of an unborn heir to trap the Matriarch in her own rules, forcing her into a suffocating silence. If they wanted a war for the throne, I would gladly show them exactly why I am the undisputed Mafia Queen.
9.2
I discovered the dark secret my stepmother Beatrice had been hiding for years.
When I threatened to expose the truth to the mafia, my half-brother Angelo and step-sister Carmella locked me in an abandoned Brooklyn warehouse.
Carmella stood there in my mother's expensive silk dress, her voice sweet and venomous as she confessed how she had meticulously stolen my life and my father's love.
Angelo looked at me with cold indifference, pouring gasoline over my feet before striking a match.
"You're insane for threatening to break the code of silence," they laughed, leaving me to burn alive to protect their stolen thrones.
My own father turned a blind eye, letting his trueborn daughter turn to ash just to maintain the illusion of his perfect family.
The smell of charred flesh filled my throat. Until I died, I didn't understand. I had bled for our survival, even taking a bullet for the terrifying Moretti Matriarch.
Why did my father let the bastard children of a Chicago bootlegger steal my inheritance and murder me?
Opening my eyes again, the phantom heat of the inferno faded into a cool New York afternoon.
I was seventeen again, sitting in the backseat of a Cadillac, just returning from my three-year exile in Switzerland.
This time, I wouldn't just scream. I would marry the terrifying Prince of New York and watch my stepmother's entire bloodline burn.