Too Late For Regret: The Mafia King's Runaway

I watched my husband, the most feared Capo in New York, sign away our marriage with the same cold indifference he usually reserved for ordering a hit. The nib of his Montblanc pen scratched against the paper, drowning out the rain hitting the coffee shop window. He didn't bother to read a single word. He thought he was signing routine shipping manifests for the family business. In reality, he was signing the "Dissolution of Union" papers I had hidden beneath the cover sheet. He was too distracted to check. His eyes were glued to his encrypted phone, frantically texting Sofia—the widow, the tragic beauty, the woman who had haunted our marriage for three years. "Done," he grunted, tossing the stack into his armored SUV without even glancing at me. "Business is concluded, Elena. We leave." Moments later, his phone rang with her special emergency tone. His demeanor shifted from cold boss to frantic protector instantly. "Driver, divert. She needs me," he roared. He looked at me with zero affection and ordered, "Get out, Elena. Luca will take you home." He kicked me out of the car into the pouring rain to rush to his mistress, completely unaware he had just legally granted me my freedom. I stood on the curb, shivering but smiling for the first time in years. By the time the Don realizes he just signed his own divorce, I will be a ghost in San Francisco. And he will have nothing left but his shipping logs and his regret.

Chapters

Chapter 4

The master bedroom was swallowed by darkness, lit only by the ghostly glow of streetlights filtering through the sheer curtains.

It was 3 AM.

I was packing.

Not a lot. Just the essentials. My mother's rosary. Cash I had siphoned from the grocery allowance. The burner phone.

Suddenly, the door handle turned.

I shoved the suitcase under the bed with a frantic kick and snatched a book from the nightstand. I leaned back against the headboard, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Dante stormed in.

He looked ruinous.

His tuxedo shirt was ripped open. His chest was heaving. And he was covered in blood.

So much blood. It soaked his pants, his hands, his neck.

I sat up, the instinct to care for him rising before I could squash it.

"Dante?"

He looked at me, his eyes wild, pupils blown wide with adrenaline.

"She's safe," he rasped. "It was a trap. They used her as bait."

*Of course she is,* I thought bitterly. *She is the survivor. We are the casualties.*

He stripped off his shirt, throwing it onto the floor with a wet slap.

"Turn around," he commanded.

I saw it then. A long, jagged slash across his back. It wasn't deep enough to kill, but it was ugly. The skin was parted, weeping red.

"Get the kit," he said.

He walked into the bathroom and braced his hands against the sink, hanging his head.

I got out of bed. I retrieved the suture kit from the cabinet. Being a mafia wife meant knowing how to sew flesh as well as silk.

I walked into the bathroom. The smell of copper and sweat filled the small space.

I dampened a cloth and began to clean the wound.

He hissed as the alcohol touched the raw nerves.

Suddenly, my phone lit up on the counter. A notification flashed across the lock screen.

*United Airlines: Confirmation #HK982L. SFO.*

He grabbed the phone before I could read more. He glared at me in the mirror.

"What is this?" he demanded. "Why are you looking at flights to San Francisco?"

My heart stopped. I had been careless.

"I... I am sourcing art," I lied. My voice was steady. Practice makes perfect. "Your mother wants a new piece for the gallery. There is an auction in San Francisco."

He studied my face in the reflection. He was a human lie detector. But tonight, he was high on violence and pain. He blinked, accepting the lie.

He believed he owned me completely. The idea that I would leave was impossible to him.

"Just stitch it," he grunted.

I threaded the needle. My hands were steady.

I pierced his skin. He didn't flinch.

"You wrote that note," he said suddenly. "The one at the club."

I pulled the thread tight.

"I was a child, Dante."

"Did you mean it?" he asked. His voice was rough. "Did you love me?"

I paused. The needle hovered over his skin.

"That was a child's dream," I said. "Dreams wake up."

I finished the stitch. I tied the knot and snipped the thread.

"Done."

Dante turned around. He leaned back against the sink, towering over me. The adrenaline was still coursing through him, making him vibrant, dangerous.

He reached out. His hand cupped my jaw. His thumb brushed my lip.

He leaned in, his eyes dropping to my mouth. He wanted to kiss me. He wanted to claim me. He had just killed men, and now he wanted to feel life.

I turned my head.

His lips brushed my jawline.

I smelled it. Beneath the blood and sweat.

Her.

Smoke and vanilla.

I recoiled. I stepped back, pushing his hand away.

"No."

Dante looked offended. His brow furrowed.

"I bled tonight, Elena. I need comfort."

I looked at him, really looked at him. The entitlement. The arrogance.

"This is maintenance, Dante," I said, gesturing to his back. "Not comfort."

I walked out of the bathroom. I climbed into bed and turned my back to him.

He followed me. The mattress dipped under his weight.

He reached for me. His arm draped over my waist, pulling me into a spooning embrace. He trapped me against his hard, hot body.

I lay rigid.

"One day," I whispered into the darkness. "One day, you will reach for me and find only air."

He grunted, burying his face in my neck. "You are mine, Elena. You aren't going anywhere."

He fell asleep within minutes, his breathing heavy and even.

I lay awake, staring at the wall.

*Hug the ghost while you can, Dante.*

*Because the woman is already gone.*

Continue to next part

A beer bottle to the head wakes Kira Thorne up from her pathetic past life, where she died paying off her fiancé’s gambling debts. Seeing Julian Mercer fake amnesia on the bar floor, Kira refuses to be his victim again. She throws away his cheap ring and adopts the silent, scarred mechanic, Dante Russo, to help run her late father’s auto shop. She thought Dante was just a brooding stray, until he tears apart Julian's hired thugs with a bloody wrench. Dante hides a lethal secret—he is the underworld’s most feared hitman. As Julian plots to sell Kira to the mafia with Chloe Ashford's help, Dante locks Kira in his bloody embrace, ready to burn the entire city to ashes just to keep her safe.

Action Mafia Romance

9.5

HEALING IN HIS ARMS

9.5

After getting raped by her uncle at the age of 10, pearl Wilson's life never remained the same. She had to live with the stigma even after her uncle Richard was sent to jail. No one knows about the case except her family and her three friends, but despite that fact, she felt eyes on herself everywhere she went. Pearl grew a deep-seated hatred for the male gender afterwards, even her own dad. She's rebellious and obstinate. As she grew, her hatred grew with her, up until college. Everyone in Legacy college knows Pearl the male hater who throws shit on the faces of every boy she meets. Pearl's male hatred met an unexpected hitch when she had an encounter with the silent one, her department's quiet boy... Ronnie Banks. Ronnie is known for his greek-god-ish calm exterior and cool personality. He only talks when necessary, but what Pearl is unaware of is that he has had eyes on her since her first year in the school. He has been watching her from a distance, and now, she willingly walked into his lair. She's caught! What happens next? When the two opposites clash... When secrets huge enough to break several hearts started coming out like. when bloodshed and unexpected events hit the ground. Are you already feeling the heat of the dramas? Damn! You don't wanna miss out on this Dark College Romance, do you? Don't you dare!

Mafia Modern Young Adult

7.6

His Unwanted Wife, The Rival Don's Queen

7.6

The gunman pressed a Glock to my temple and gave my husband a choice. "One walks out. One stays. Choose, Mr. Underboss." I wasn't worried. I was Haven. I was his wife of ten years, his Consigliere, the woman who built his empire. Beside me sobbed Gemma, a fragile twenty-two-year-old he had known for six months. "Take Gemma! Leave Haven!" Connor screamed, his honor twisting into something unrecognizable. He walked out of the warehouse with another woman in his arms, leaving me to be butchered. I didn't wait for the bullet. I threw myself through a glass window into the freezing canal. I survived the fall, but the life inside me didn't. After five years of failed IVF, the miracle baby I hadn't even told Connor about was gone. While I lay in a cold hospital room, bleeding out the remains of our child, my husband was buying diamond earrings for the woman who had set me up to die. When the doctor tried to sedate me for the surgery, I grabbed his wrist. "No anesthesia," I commanded. "But the pain..." "I want to feel it," I said, staring at the ceiling. "I want to feel every scrap of him leaving my body." I burned that pain into my soul. Then, I went home, poured gasoline over our wedding bed, and lit a match. Two years later, I returned to the city. Connor thought I was dead. But when he saw me on the arm of his mortal enemy, wearing the crown of a rival Queen, he realized his mistake. He didn't just lose a wife. He started a war.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.1

Mi ÁNGEL

8.1

Stefano Zabet-Ángel lleva 5 años buscando a Macarena, su novia de universidad, la cual perdió por no poder manejar sus brotes de ira, fue el primer hombre en su cama y está seguro de que ella estaba embarazada cuando desapareció. Hoy con 23 años no descansara hasta recuperar lo que considera que es suyo. Hades Ángel-Olid tenía 25 años cuando encontró el amor en un aeropuerto, Macarena de 18 años lo enamoro día a día sin darse cuenta, mucho menos pretender aquello, mientras él solo quería ayudarla para calmar su conciencia por un trabajo que salió mal, estuvo a su lado por dos años, la acompaño durante su embarazo y vio crecer a una hermosa niña, Alma, pero no podía seguir huyendo de lo que era, Hades guarda un secreto que la latina desconoce y es que él es el gran asesino conocido como el Ángel de la muerte, la noche que al fin la hizo suya, fue la misma noche que la abandono. Pero regresara dos años después para decirle la verdad y recuperar su amor. Mateo Zabet-Ángel lleva tres años enamorado de la empleada de los recados de su empresa y a pesar de hacer todo lo posible por acercarse a ella, la latina lo evita, como si fuera el mismo demonio, hasta que un día al fin la tiene a su merced, aprovechándose de su desesperación ve la oportunidad para enamorarla o por lo menos obligarla a estar con él. Stefano es hermano de Mateo y ambos son primos de Hades, ¿qué sucederá cuando descubran que comparten más que el apellido ÁNGEL? ¿Qué hará Macarena cuando comprenda que a los tres hombres que se entregó en cuerpo y alma comparten la misma sangre?

Action Mafia Romance

8.0

Pregnant And Running From The Mafia Don

8.0

For five years, my husband kept me in a dog cage because he believed I murdered his fiancée, my stepsister Kinsley. He stripped me of my dignity, my name, and my humanity, all to avenge a woman who wasn't even dead. When Kinsley finally returned, alive and smiling, I thought my nightmare was over. Instead, she framed me again. Right in front of Courtland, she pushed my little brother down the stone steps of the estate. I held my brother's broken body in the rain, screaming for help. But Courtland just stood there, shielding Kinsley under his umbrella, looking at me with cold indifference. He chose the monster over his wife. That night, I realized love wasn't enough to save me. So, I stood on the edge of the hospital roof and let gravity take me. I wanted him to mourn. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to burn. Three years later, at a gala in New York, the Ice King dropped his champagne glass. He stared at me—the woman in the red dress, the fiancée of his rival. I looked him dead in the eye and smiled like a stranger. He cornered me later, his voice trembling with rage and obsession. "Death is the only divorce in my world, Anastasia. And you are still very much alive."

Mafia Modern Romance

9.3

Sex with the Mafia King

9.3

WARNING!! THIS STORY CONTAINS A LOT OF MATURE THEMES, ELEMENTS OF HARDCORE BDSM, PRAISE KINKS, SLUT-SHAMING KINKS, AND DEGRADATION KINKS. READ WITH CAUTION. (BOOK ONE OF THE DELUCA KINGS SERIES) Serena would do anything to uncover the death of her parents, including sleeping with the most dangerous man in New York, Nero DeLuca. And he knows this, so he strings her along so he can see how far she's willing to go. *** "Get on your knees," Nero said. "Excuse me-" "You're my submissive, and you exist for the sole purpose of my pleasure. I don't tolerate defiance. When I say get on your knees, you get on your knees." "Yes," I replied as I got on my knees, hating how much his commanding tone turned me on. He put his finger under my chin and lifted it so I could look at him. "Yes, what?" "Yes, sir." "Good girl. Now get on the bed and show me that beautiful cunt. I want to see what it looks like before I destroy it with my cock. Tonight, the whole of New York will know you belong to me. I'll not take anything less than you screaming my name, and by the time I'm done with you, you'll feel me between your legs for a week."

Action Mafia Modern

Too Late For Regret: The Mafia King's Runaway

Chapter 4

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