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 8
CHAPTER 8
Ariel's POV
I gazed at my pale skin in the mirror and then at my cheeks that were currently bright red.
Ariel!
I immediately pinched my cheeks, reprimanding myself for blushing. No, I wasn't blushing... but for whatever that was.
Dermos is Ariella's husband, not mine.
Not mine.
Fuck, he's not mine!
But why did my mind keep going back to yesterday?
I'd stood there, frozen, my lips still tingling from the kiss before I had pushed Dermos away, my heart was beating crazy even though I shouted at it not to.
He had looked at me, his eyes calm as ever, and said. "You're different, Ariella. I don't know what's changed, but you're not the same person I thought you were."
At some point, I thought it was a joke, but then I realized he'd said 'Ariella', not 'Ariel.'
Of course, he likes my sister, that's the fucking main reason they got married!
I'm Ariel, not Ariella. He likes Ariella.
I repeated this three times, reminding myself where I stood. Ariella would soon return, and I'll be sent back home.
Just like it should be. Right?
I sighed, and Isabella, who'd been helping me with my hair, gazed at me through the mirror. I shook my head, signaling that there's nothing wrong.
"You may leave."
She doesn't argue and exits.
I've been noticing strange things happening around me lately, too.
My phone goes missing for hours, and when I find it, it's been tampered with. And then there's the note I found in my closet [RUN BEFORE HE FINDS OUT]
What does it mean? And who wrote it?
I've been trying to keep a low profile, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm in danger.
I've also been thinking about trying to escape, just to get out of this place and figure things out. I knew Dermos would be busy with his... business and that.. I sighed, and that damn whore house.
It's the perfect opportunity to make a break for it.
I waited until the house was quiet, and then I snuck out of my room. I made my way down the stairs, trying not to make a sound. I had to be careful; I knew Dermos had guards posted everywhere.
Just as I reached the door, a hand suddenly clamped down on my shoulder. I spun around, my heart in my throat, and found myself face to face with Carlos.
"Where do you think you're going?" He growled.
I didn't know who was scarier, Dermos or Carlos.
I tried to shake him off, but he held tight. "Let me go."
He leaned in. "Escaping the Don means signing your own death warrant, Ariella. You want to try it, be my guest. But you're not going anywhere without me knowing about it."
I felt a shiver run down my spine.
There was something in his voice, something that made me think he wasn't just threatening me. He also sounded... concerned?
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, trying to gauge his reaction.
Carlos's expression was conflicted, like he was wrestling with something inside. "Because I don't want to have to be the one to drag you back... dead or alive." He said, finally. "Don't try it, Ariella. You're playing with fire."
I nodded, though I barely grasped anything he said.
I'd try to escape soon again, but I'll be more careful this time.
~
The next day, I was seated at the family table, trying to make small talk with the others. Luciana was being her usual, fake self, asking me questions about my "interests" and making snobby comments about my clothes.
"So, Ariella, what do you like to do for fun?" She asked, her voice faking sweetness. "Do you have any.. hobbies?"
As if the bitch cared.
I forced a smile, trying to play along. "I like to read, I guess, and listen to music."
Luciana raised an eyebrow. "Oh, how.. quaint. What kind of music do you listen to?"
I shrugged. "Just.. stuff. You know, whatever's popular, I guess."
And then, just as we were starting to eat, she "accidentally" spilled a glass of wine all over my dress.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed, with a growing smile. "You look like such a... cheap imitation."
The table fell silent, and I felt my anger rising. But before I could say anything, Dermos spoke up.
"Luciana, leave the table."
Luciana's eyes widened, and I too was surprised. She looked at him like he was crazy. "What? But-"
"Now," Dermos said, clearly with his mind made up.
Luciana's face turned red as she stood up and stalked out of the room. The rest of the table was silent, their eyes fixed on Dermos.
To be honest, I was shocked.
Dermos turned to me, his expression calm. "Ariella, would you like to change?"
I nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. He led me to my room, his hand on the small of my back. I chewed the inside of my mouth, not knowing if he was doing this on purpose or not.
"Dermos," I called out.
He gazed down at me. "Mm?"
"I want Isabella as my personal maid."
He nodded, his voice low. "I'll think about it."
He turned to leave, then turned back. "Don't forget about the gala this weekend."
I nodded, but before I could say anything, Dermos suddenly stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine. He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine before he kissed me.
Again.
His kiss deepened, his hands holding me in place, but I just stood frozen in place. Dermos's expression didn't change. He leaned in again, his lips on mine, tugging even harder.
And soon, my mind began to go places, and my hands on his chest began to shiver a bit.
I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "Stop... please stop," I whispered.
He didn't stop.
Tears ran down my face as I pushed against him, but he didn't let go.
Would he really..?
I shut my eyes tighter.
Would Dermos rape me?
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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.