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 4
The room fell into an almost unbearable silence after my name was announced. Every eye was on me, and I could feel the weight of their attention pressing down like a physical force. My chest tightened, my palms were slick with sweat, and my knees threatened to buckle. I wanted to disappear, vanish into nothing, but the men beside me didn't flinch-they only guided me forward with the same cold precision as before.
The auctioneer stepped forward, his voice smooth, commanding. "Ladies and gentlemen, place your bids."
The first man's voice rang out, low and deliberate. "One million."
Another followed, higher, more confident. "Two million."
I froze. Two million. My body shook, my mind spinning. I had no idea what this meant, how any of this worked, but the realization hit me: I was being sold.
The bids continued, voices overlapping, murmurs rippling through the room like a rising tide. My stomach twisted with every increase, every deliberate glance, every subtle nod of approval from the men in the shadows. I could feel the humiliation searing through me. I wanted to cry, to scream, to fight-anything to stop this nightmare-but I was powerless.
Then a voice cut through the chaos. Deep. Commanding. Smooth, with a weight that made the room shift, as if the air itself had changed.
"Five million."
The room went still. Every movement froze. Every breath seemed to catch. Heads turned toward the source of the voice.
I looked up, and my breath caught.
A man had entered the room, tall, imposing, every inch the definition of danger. Dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and his jaw was sharp, perfect. His eyes were ice and fire at the same time, locking on the auctioneer with an authority that silenced the room. His suit was tailored, immaculate, but it was the presence-the aura-that drew every gaze.
Dante Moretti.
Whispers rippled through the crowd like a sudden wind. "That's Dante Moretti..." someone murmured. "...the most dangerous man in the city."
I felt my stomach twist again. Dangerous. Wealthy. Untouchable. My body trembled as the reality sank in: this man wasn't here for curiosity or amusement. He was here to claim what he wanted, and everyone knew better than to oppose him.
The auctioneer cleared his throat, trying to maintain control, but his voice wavered. "Uh... anyone... higher?"
Silence.
No one moved. No one dared speak. The weight of Dante's presence had frozen them, suffocated them, and I could feel it too-an invisible grip tightening around my chest, threatening to crush me.
I wanted to shrink into myself, to disappear, to melt into the floor, but I couldn't. Every nerve screamed, he's looking at me.
The auctioneer swallowed hard. "Five million... going once..."
I clutched at my dress, my nails digging into the fabric. The sound of my own heartbeat was deafening. Five million. I had no idea what it meant in reality, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the message: I was no longer a person. I was property. Owned. Claimed.
The room held its breath, and I could feel the anticipation, the tension, the unspoken understanding that this was the end of negotiation. This was the moment that would define everything from now on.
The auctioneer's voice was steady, but the tremor in his hands betrayed him. "Five million... going twice..."
I wanted to scream, to beg, to disappear, but I didn't. My body was frozen, my mind spinning, as I realized with a sinking feeling that there would be no one higher, no one braver, no one willing to oppose Dante Moretti.
"Sold," the auctioneer finally said, his voice trembling. "To... Dante Moretti."
The words hit me like a hammer. Sold. I wanted to scream, to run, to vanish, but I was trapped. Dante's gaze never left me, sharp and calculating, assessing every inch of my being, but... oddly... without cruelty.
The man who had guided me forward stepped aside. Dante moved toward me, his steps deliberate, powerful, controlled. I felt the room shrink around us, every whisper fading into silence.
He stopped a few feet away, looking at me with an intensity that made my knees weak. "Bring her to the car," he said softly, almost casually. Yet the weight of the command made it clear: this was not a suggestion.
I was trembling, confused, terrified, but also... strangely curious. Why had he bought me? What did he want? My mind spun with questions, but the only thing I could focus on was the unshakable reality: I was now his.
The men guiding me glanced at each other, a subtle acknowledgment passing between them. The auction was over. The highest bidder had claimed me, and no one dared oppose him.
As I followed Dante's silent command, I realized that the world had shifted beneath my feet. The air around him seemed to hum with danger, authority, and power. And I knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.
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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."