The Mafia Who Bought Me
Elena Rossi's life shatters when her father's gambling debt attracts the attention of the mafia.
With no money to repay them, Elena is taken to a secret auction where desperate women are sold to powerful men.
Just when she thinks her fate couldn't get worse, the most feared mafia boss in the city makes the highest bid.
Dante Moretti.
Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable.
Now Elena belongs to him.
But the deeper she falls into his dangerous world, the more secrets she uncovers.
Because Dante didn't buy her out of desire.
He bought her because she reminds him of the one woman who betrayed him.
As enemies close in and a mafia war begins, Elena realizes something terrifying.
The ruthless man who owns her body might soon own her heart.
And in Dante Moretti's world...
Love can be just as deadly as betrayal.
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Chapter 2
"No! I won't go!" I shouted, my voice cracking. My hands flailed as I tried to push the men back, but their grips were iron. Fear surged through me like fire, every instinct screaming to run, to fight, to disappear.
"Elena… please! Listen to me!" my father's voice broke through the storm in my chest. "I have no choice! If I refuse, they'll…"
“They’ll what?” I interrupted, panic turning my words into desperate gasps. “Kill you? Take me anyway? Just take me?!” My mind was a whirlwind of terror, disbelief, and anger so sharp it hurt. How could this be happening? How could the world turn from ordinary to this nightmare so quickly?
The tallest man beside me tightened his hold. "Stop. I already told you struggling won't help."
I twisted harder, trying to pull away even though I knew it was pointless. "You can't do this! Let me go!"
"You belong to them now," he said flatly. There was no malice in his voice, only certainty.
My father's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry, Elena… I wish I could fix this," he whispered, and my chest ached with both fear and sorrow. I wanted to cry, scream, curse the world, but my body felt trapped, paralyzed by the reality of my helplessness.
They led me outside into the storm. Rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking my hair, clothes, and skin. The cold bit at me, but I barely noticed. My mind was consumed with panic and disbelief.
I glanced at my father, hoping for some last-minute solution, some miracle that could undo the horrors of the night. But he only watched, helpless, knowing this was beyond his control. His eyes pleaded silently for me to survive, and I felt tears sting my cheeks.
The car awaited, dark and imposing. The men pushed me inside with no explanation, no words of comfort, only the silent assertion that resistance was meaningless. I sat trembling in the back seat, staring out at the storm-slicked street, watching my home disappear behind us. Every raindrop on the window felt like a countdown, marking the seconds until my old life was completely gone.
The ride was silent except for the rhythmic splash of tires on puddles. I tried to think, tried to plan, tried to figure out a way out of this nightmare. But every possible escape dissolved before my eyes. The men were vigilant, silent, watching me like predators guarding their prize.
"Wait… where are you taking me?" I whispered, more to myself than to anyone else.
"You'll see soon," one of them said. His voice was calm, controlled, and the lack of emotion only made my fear sharper. "Don't try anything."
The warning echoed in my mind, but what could I do? I had no weapons, no allies, no protection. Just the cold, relentless certainty that my life as I knew it was over.
The car turned off the main street into a narrow lane I didn't recognize. Tall buildings loomed on either side, their windows dark, guarded by silent sentries who stood like statues, observing us. My heart pounded faster. This was no ordinary location.
We arrived at a massive black building, its walls sleek and cold under the stormy night. Guards flanked the entrance, armed, serious, and unmoving. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my trembling hands. The men led me inside, and immediately, the atmosphere changed.
The atmosphere changed the moment we stepped through the doors. The air was sharper, cooler. The space was vast, impossibly high-ceilinged, echoing with every step. I froze.
There were other women.
Rows of them standing in lines, dressed in elegant gowns and high heels. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with the same fear I felt. Some tried to look composed, others stared blankly ahead. I wanted to hide, to vanish, to melt into the shadows, but there was nowhere to go.
A whisper brushed my ear, faint and almost inaudible: “It’s worse than you think…”
I shivered. Worse? How could it be worse than being dragged from my home? Worse than knowing I was no longer free? My stomach twisted at the thought.
The men guiding me were professional, calm, precise. They didn’t push or shove; their quiet authority was enough. Each step I took echoed my helplessness. The other women looked at me with quiet dread. I wanted to reach out to them, to share the terror that bound us together, but I knew it wouldn’t matter.
The tallest man leaned closer. “Keep moving.”
I felt my stomach twist again. This wasn’t just a prison. It was something much worse. A marketplace. I was no longer a person. I was a commodity.
We reached the center of the large space and a heavy silence settled. The guards around me stayed alert. The women were lined up like fragile, expensive glass—beautiful, ornamental, completely exposed.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. The men beside me didn’t speak. Their presence alone was a warning. This was no ordinary night, and I was no ordinary girl.
My mind kept drifting back to Dad. Was he still on the floor crying? Had he already started drinking to forget what he’d done? The betrayal burned deep. He had given me up. His own daughter. And now I was here, standing among strangers who all shared the same terrified look in their eyes.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in the trembling. Everything felt strange. The life I had known just hours ago already seemed like a distant dream.
And as I stood there waiting, surrounded by other girls who had been taken just like me, I realized with a sinking, heavy feeling that this was only the beginning of whatever nightmare came next.
I had no idea how long I would have to stand there. I had no idea what they were preparing us for. All I knew was that every minute that passed took me further away from who I used to be.
And closer to whatever they had planned for me.
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7.8
ALPHA DOM AND HIS HUMAN Synopsis.
By [F.K Rowan]
Ella Navarro had one plan: become a mother on her own terms. No partner, no complications, no one to let her down. After years of heartbreak and a betrayal she never saw coming, she walked into a fertility clinic alone and chose the cleanest, most controlled version of a fresh start possible.
She got Dominic Sinclair's DNA instead.
Cold, powerful, and campaigning to become Alpha King of the North American wolf packs, Dominic is the last man on earth Ella would have chosen. He is also, apparently, the father of her unborn child. When the clinic's devastating mix-up comes to light, two people from completely different worlds are forced into each other's lives with nothing in common except the baby growing between them.
Ella expects a legal battle. She gets something far more complicated.
Because Dominic can't stop watching her like she's something he wasn't prepared for. And Ella can't stop noticing that behind all that money and control is a man still bleeding from a wound he never talks about.
She didn't come here to fall for anyone.
But some things, it turns out, were never hers to control.
"A dark, slow-burn werewolf romance about the wreckage we build lives from."
7.7
I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary."
9.2
For four years, I was the Silvercrest Pack's biggest joke—a scentless, wolfless Omega who somehow became the Alpha's Luna.
I thought I was just naturally defective, until our fourth anniversary, when I overheard my husband Adrian talking to his Beta.
"I’ve been having the kitchens slip a silver-based compound into her meals since the day I marked her."
He confessed the poison was meant to suppress my inner wolf and keep my womb permanently barren. He only married me as a power play to make his highborn mistress, Seraphina, jealous. While I wept over my empty cradle and apologized to his family for my broken body, he was using pack funds to buy her custom luxury goods, tossing me the leftover wrapping paper. When I finally confronted him about the silver and tried to leave, he flew into a feral rage. He violently smashed my head against the marble vanity, leaving me bleeding on the floor, and locked the bedroom door behind him.
I lay there in the cold, staring at the pool of my own blood. My entire life, my endless pain, and my unborn pups were nothing but a cruel, calculated joke to the man who was supposed to be my Mate.
But Adrian didn't know I wasn't just a brainless Omega.
I wiped the blood from my face, climbed down the balcony trellis into the freezing rain, and pulled out an encrypted burner phone.
"The cage is broken. Initiate Phase Two."
8.1
My husband, Alpha Kaeden, once looked at me with adoration. But after he brought Clemmie home, his eyes turned cold, glazed over by the "herbal tea" she fed him.
Now, I lay chained to a steel table in the dungeon, the smell of my own burning flesh filling the air.
Kaeden stood over me, indifferent to my screams. He ordered the guards to electrocute me through silver cuffs—the poison of our kind—even though he knew I was carrying his pup.
But torture wasn't the end goal. I froze when I heard the doctor’s question.
"The transplant carries risks, Alpha. Taking a heart from a living donor..."
Clemmie didn't just want my husband; she wanted my heart to cure her "sickness" and steal my White Wolf power.
I waited for Kaeden to refuse. Instead, he rubbed his temples and delivered my death sentence.
"Harvest the heart. Dispose of the rest."
"And the fetus?" the doctor asked.
"Incinerate it."
Those words killed me faster than the silver. I died on the operating table that night, my heart flatlining for three minutes to stage my death.
Kaeden thinks I am ash in a jar. He thinks he saved his mistress.
But when I opened my eyes in the safe house, they weren't brown anymore. They were glowing silver.
Beside me, my daughter slept, alive and radiating ancient power.
The weak Luna is dead. The White Wolf has risen.
And I am going home to take back my pack.
9.5
Smoke and silence rule the ruins of the Mantle pack. Lyra, once a fierce warrior-wakes shackled and ritual-silenced, her wolf buried but not dead, a living emblem of everything Lucius, the cruel Alpha of Onyx Crest, used to cement his power. Brian, the heir raised to obey, is taught to deny the bond he never wanted; one whispered word from Lyra cracks that obedience and sparks a secret, dangerous connection.
As their flickering bond strengthens, Lyra's wolf claws back to life and Brian's loyalties split, igniting a rebellion against a family built on sacrifice and fear. When Asher seizes the crest and brands them fugitives, what begins as escape becomes a fight for more than revenge-it's a war to remake the packs into something kinder and just, and to claim a throne built on unity rather than domination.
8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."