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 7
CHAPTER 7
Ariel's POV
I stood frozen, my heart racing as the sound of footsteps approached.
I quickly scanned the room, my eyes landing on the curtain beside me. I darted behind it, holding my breath as the person walked in.
The room was dimly lit, but I could see a little light coming from the hallway. I peeked through the gap between the curtain and the wall, my eyes adjusting to the darkness.
A figure stood in the center of the room, their back to me. It was a woman, and she was speaking in a low tone.
"You're talking too much, Isabella." She said.
Who in the world was that?
There was a pause, and then the sound of a slap resounded through the room. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.
"Don't. Ever. Speak. Again." The woman added.
I waited a few moments before I slowly emerged from behind the curtain.
Isabella stood in the center of the room, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear. She looked at me, and I could tell she was trying to compose herself.
"Isabella, what's going on?" I asked, my tone was firm.
But she just shook her head, her eyes pleading with me. "Don't ask, ma'm. Please. You'll only make things worse."
I frowned. "I can handle it. Tell me."
Isabella's expression hardened, and she looked away. "Ma'm, there's no need to worry yourself, please just drop it."
I sighed before placing my hands on my hips. Something was very wrong here, and I was starting to realize that I was in over my head.
"Fine," I said. "But you're going to be my personal maid from now on. I'll make sure you're taken care of. Is that clear?"
Isabella's eyes instantly widened, and for a moment, her face brightened as if this were the best news there could be, but then her expression closed off, and she nodded curtly. "Yes, ma'am."
That night, I was thankful that Dermos was nowhere to be found.
He was making my thoughts cross the line, especially since he's meant to be my sister's husband and my brother-in-law, even.
My thoughts were interrupted by a faint rustling sound. I turned my head, my ears perked up. What was that? It sounded like someone was sliding something under the door.
A piece of paper appeared under the door, stopping at the edge of the bed. I frowned.
Another one?
Was this some sort of prank?
Who in the world keeps on doing this?
I got out of bed and picked up the paper that was slid. The message was written in red ink.
[Stay quiet, fake wife]
My eyes narrowed as I read the words. But I wasn't scared, more like annoyed.
I walked to the door, paper in hand, and opened it, but the corridor was empty. I looked left and right, but there was no one.
"Hello?"
There was no response.
I stood there for a moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone, but there was no one. Whoever it was had vanished.
I went back in, closing the door behind me, and leaned against it. This was getting weird. Who was sending these messages? And how did they know about... whatever it was they knew?
I looked at the paper again. I needed to figure this out and fast.
~
I stood at the back of the corridor, my eyes fixed on Dermos as he addressed his men.
My eyes trailed him. He was in an all-black, long black coat and a three-piece suit, with his hair slicked back.
Damn, he was hot.
But his voice broke my thoughts.
"So, Victor, you've been playing both sides, huh?" Dermos said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You've been feeding information to our enemies, trying to undermine our operations."
Victor, the man, was on both of his knees, covered in blood. "D-Dermos, I can explain-"
What was going on?
Dermos cut him off with a raised hand. "Save it. I've heard enough. "You're a traitor, Victor," Dermos said, his voice filled with disdain. "You know the penalty for treason."
Victor's eyes went wide, and he started begging, "Please, Dermos, have mercy! I'll do anything!"
I raised an eyebrow. Oh, I'd completely forgotten that Dermos was a don.
A wicked one.
Dermos's expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to grow colder. "Anything? Too late for that."
He nodded to his men, and they dragged Victor away. I watched as they took him to the center of the room.
I wasn't scared at this point, more curious.
Dermos wouldn't do anything too bad, right? Probably just kick him or something.
But I was completely wrong.
Dermos pulled out a gun and pressed it to Victor's forehead, adjusting the trigger. "You should have thought about the consequences before you betrayed me."
The sound of the shot still echoed in my mind as Victor slumped to the ground, blood pooling around his body.
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
I staggered back a bit.
Dermos's men moved swiftly, dragging Victor's body away as if he were nothing more than a piece of trash.
Dermos turned back to his men, his eyes scanning the room. "This is a reminder of what happens to traitors. You all know what loyalty means to me. Don't forget it."
The room nodded in unison, their faces pale and sweaty. I just stood there, my eyes fixed on Dermos.
What the actual fuck?
This was the man Ariella was married to?
||
Later that night, I couldn't sleep, and so even though I was told I was meant to stay in my room, I wandered down to the music room anyway. Mostly because I was hearing a sound coming from there.
The door was ajar, and I pushed it open, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.
I raised a brow immediately I saw Dermos sitting at the piano, his fingers moving deftly over the keys.
I stood there, shocked that such a man could even like the idea of a piano.
My mind shifted back to what had happened earlier today, and I tried to walk back out, but his voice stopped me.
"Ariella."
I paused, then slowly faced him. "Yeah?"
He paused, his fingers hovering over the keys. "What are you doing down at this time?"
I stood by the wall, keeping my distance. "The music's disturbing my sleep."
It was a lie. The melody was beautiful, but I wasn't going to tell him that.
He looked at me, really looked at me, and it made me uncomfortable a bit. One reason was that the dim moonlight from outside made his chiselled features show even more.
"You're not like I expected, Ariella."
My heart jumped in fear. Does he–
I raised an eyebrow, trying to compose myself. "What... what did you expect?"
"You've changed."
I felt a shiver run down my spine. "Changed? I'm the same."
Dermos doesn't respond and just gets back to his piano.
We sat there in silence for a moment, the only sound being the notes of the piano.
"Ariella, we have a gala to attend tomorrow night," Dermos said, his voice breaking the silence.
I looked at him. "A gala?"
He nodded. "A charity event. Dangerous men will be there, bidding on auctions, etcetera."
I felt a surge of anger at the mention of an auction, because I knew what he meant.
I'm about to say something, but then Darmos suddenly cuts me off, his lips crushing mine.
My eyes bulged so hard they almost tumbled out of their sockets.
What the fuck?!
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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.