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 7

Elena Vitiello POV

The fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway hummed with a low, electric buzz. It was a sound that drilled straight into my skull.

I had slept on a hard plastic chair. My neck was stiff, and my dress was wrinkled and stained with dried snow.

Dante had slept in the chair next to Sofia's bed.

I stood up and trudged to the door of Room 304.

Dante was awake. He looked ragged. He saw me and stood up, coming out into the hall.

"How is she?" he asked.

That was his greeting. Not "Are you okay?" Not "I'm sorry I dropped you in the snow."

"Minor concussion," I said, my voice flat. "The doctors said she is fine. She is sleeping."

Dante let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours. His shoulders slumped.

"Good. Good."

He rubbed his face.

"Elena, I need you to do something."

I waited.

"Go to the gift shop. Or find a boutique nearby. Get a basket. Flowers. Something nice. She will be scared when she wakes up."

I stared at him. The audacity was breathtaking. It was almost impressive.

"You want your wife to buy a gift for your whore?"

The word hung in the air.

Dante's expression darkened. He stepped closer, looming over me.

"Do not use that word," he growled. "She is a victim. Be useful, Elena. Stop being petty."

Petty.

I wanted to scream. Instead, I nodded.

"I will be useful, Dante."

I turned and walked away.

I didn't go to a boutique. I went to the hospital cafeteria. I bought a black coffee and sat there, staring at the flight departures on my phone.

One hour. I just needed to survive one more hour.

I walked back up to the third floor. I didn't have a gift basket.

I heard laughter coming from Room 304.

It wasn't the laughter of a traumatized woman. It was the laughter of a woman who had won.

I stopped outside the door. It was slightly ajar.

"You should have seen him," Sofia was saying. She sounded gleeful. "He left her in a snowbank, Enzo. Literally dropped her. He is so easy to manipulate. It’s about power, not love."

A man's voice chuckled. Low. Unfamiliar.

"He thinks he is the King of New York," the man said. "But you have him on a leash."

I pushed the door open.

Sofia was sitting up in bed, checking her makeup in a compact mirror.

A man in scrubs was standing by the window. He turned quickly when I entered. I saw a flash of a snake tattoo on his neck before he pulled his collar up and slipped out the door past me.

Enzo Genovese. A rival soldier. In disguise.

Sofia looked at me. Her smile didn't fade. It sharpened.

"Where is my basket?" she asked.

I walked to the foot of the bed.

"You don't love him," I said.

Sofia laughed. "Love? Oh, little bird. This isn't a fairy tale. I want the seat at the head of the table. Dante is just the chair I sit on."

She leaned forward.

"He dumped you in the snow, Elena. He chose me. He will always choose me. You are nothing. You are a placeholder until I get bored."

Something inside me snapped. It wasn't a loud snap. It was quiet. Final.

I walked around the bed.

Sofia watched me, amused.

I raised my hand and slapped her.

It was a hard slap. My palm connected with her cheekbone with a satisfying crack. Her head whipped to the side.

"You bitch!" she shrieked.

She lunged at me, claws out.

The door burst open.

Dante.

Sofia threw herself back onto the pillows. She burst into tears instantly.

"She hit me!" she wailed. "Dante! She's crazy! She tried to hurt me!"

Dante saw red. I saw it happen. The logic left his eyes.

He crossed the room in two strides.

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't look at me. He looked at the woman crying on the bed.

He shoved me.

It wasn't a gentle push. It was a forceful shove meant to remove a threat.

I flew backward.

My head hit the wall. Hard.

Pain exploded behind my eyes. I slid down to the floor.

I touched the back of my head. My fingers came away wet and red.

Dante didn't check on me. He was kneeling by the bed, stroking Sofia's hair, checking her cheek.

"Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

He looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes were filled with disgust.

"Get out of my sight, Elena."

I looked at the blood on my fingers.

I looked at the husband who had just drawn my blood to protect his enemy.

"I will," I whispered.

I stood up. The room swayed.

I walked out of the room. I walked down the hall. I walked out of the hospital.

I hailed a taxi.

"To the airport?" the driver asked.

"No," I said. "Take me home. I have to take out the trash."

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 7

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