Submitting to the Mafia King

Timothy cheated on me few days before our wedding, so to get back at him, I wrapped my hand around the first stranger and begged, "Please kiss me." But when that stranger turns out to be the most feared Mafia King in the country, I might've just signed away my freedom. ********** Trying to make ends meet with a huge pile of debt and a gambling dad, the last thing Cara needed was to find out her fiancé was cheating on her 22nd birthday. Done with the lies, she swears she doesn't have time for boys anymore, especially those who think they run the world. Except Adonis is not a boy. And he might not run the world, but he ran half of it. One impulsive kiss, and the best one-night stand of her life later, all she had to do was be the wife of the most feared mafia heir in the country. Until he became the very reason the last of her sanity crumbled apart. She married her father's murderer. Worst part? She still wants him.

Chapters

Chapter 3

Timothy stood fuming with rage as he watched Cara break off the kiss with the unknown man, reflecting on her last words.

Babe. You're here? Babe. You're here?!

His hands balled into fists as he simmered in anger.

"You've been cheating on me?" He spat out distastefully, and Cara let out a cold laugh.

"I guess we can call it even then." She entwined her fingers with that of her pretend boyfriend's. "...or maybe not. This is your fourth time, right?"

Timothy, visibly annoyed, took a step towards her.

"Are you crazy? Come over here while I'm still being nice, and let's go home."

Cara let out a hollow laugh.

"Home? You mean the apartment I paid for?"

"I never asked you to! You did that on your own." Timothy replied with a snarl.

Cara felt foolish once again. After everything she had done for him, he was just going to brush it off like none of it mattered. Like it didn't cost her a lot.

She was always the one giving, even with the little she had.

Was she really foolish?

Memories of the time they've spent together flashed through her eyes. She was the one who always offered to pay whenever they ate out. She was the one who offered to pay the lease of his apartment. She also did all his cleaning and cooking.

God! She felt pathetic!

Did she really have to do all that to keep him? He wasn't even worth it!

"You never really loved me, Tim. If you did, you would not have treated me badly. I'm done." Cara replied unfazed. Still holding onto the hand of her surprisingly quiet pretend boyfriend, she turned around to open the staff room door when Timothy's next words stopped her.

"Well, how do you plan to pay back the thirty grand your father owes?"

"What?"

Cara turned back to him.

"Come with me, and I'll help you."

Cara's face remained cold and distant. To say she was surprised would be a lie; she had suspected it all along. Whenever things started to get better for her, a problem greater than she could mentally handle on her own would occur. That's how he has been able to keep her by his side-he'd make her believe the entire world was against her and he was the only one who cared. Moreover, her father once mentioned how Timothy promised to give him some money to make their lives better during one of his drunken shows. She suspected but decided to believe it wasn't her Timothy. Now, everything was starting to add up together. She had once wondered where her father got the funds to fuel his gambling addictions. Now she knew.

What a psychotic bastard!

Cara stood up straighter, her cold and proud demeanour totally contrasting how she felt within. She wasn't going to let him see through her, and this clearly irritated Timothy who took another step closer.

If she wasn't going to come back to him, then no one else can have her.

He made a move to reach for her when the stranger, who had quietly been watching it all, pulled her behind him. Stepping out of the dim light, he stood in front of Timothy, staring him down.

Timothy was a tall man himself, but he had nothing on the six-foot-three-muscle man who stood in front of him. The man seemed to be struggling to hold himself up, and his once deep grey eyes were now bloodshot, but Timothy would recognise him anywhere.

"Adonis." He whispered softly, unconsciously taking a step back.

Adonis squinted his eyes at the mention of his name. He was correct to think that the lousy guy whose voice had been aggravating his headache had a slight pinch of Italian accent. From the look on his face, Adonis could tell he recognised him. He tried to recall where he had seen his familiar face, but he couldn't will his brain to.

He felt hot! All he could think of was getting a release, and the kiss from earlier only fuelled his desire. He still hasn't figured out if it was in the beer or water he drank earlier, but he was sure that once the culprit was caught, he/she would paid dearly.

Tainting his drink with an aphrodisiac was a low blow.

Adonis let out a small groan, thick beads of sweat running down his face, as he ordered

"Leave."

Timothy didn't need to be told twice; throwing a final angry glare at Cara, he stalked away. If the rumours were true and Adonis is who they've described him to be, it was better he addressed Cara another day.

Adonis swayed on his feet, placing his hands on the wall just in time to stop himself from collapsing, and Cara rushed to his side.

"Oh my God, are you fine?" She searched his face frantically, watching in confusion as he recoiled from her touch. He stood to his feet, taking a step back from her.

"Go. Leave here."

"No. I can't do that. You clearly don't look well." She stubbornly refused.

Adonis let out a painful, loud groan, wiping his hand down his face.

"You have to get out of-" was all he could say before he swayed once again. In an attempt to save him from falling, Cara placed a hand on his bicep, earning a soft groan from Adonis as his head fell to her nape.

He littered light kisses all over, taking the skin between his lips as he sensually sucked at it.

Cara let out a small embarrassed moan, wetness instantly pooling between her legs. As much as she was confused, she felt extreme desire.

Is it possible to feel desire for a man you just met?

Momentarily snapping out of it, Adonis pulled away from her. Gripping her shoulders tight, he spoke with the little strength he had left.

"Leave bellissima, or I won't be responsible for my actions."

Cara remained unknowingly adamant.

"I know we're strangers, but you just helped me. You're sick, and it's my turn to return the favour. I want to help you."

Adonis chuckled darkly, pushing her against the wall.

"You want to help me?"

"Yes." Cara replied in a breathy whisper and wondered if that was her voice. She was meant to be helping the sick man, not getting turned on by his little touches and groans.

It was as though her reply broke the last restraint Adonis had left. Tapping her butt twice, he whispered.

"Jump." As he bunched up the material of Cara's skirt around her waist, her thick legs clinging tightly to his.

"Wait!" Cara tried to stop Adonis; the realisation of what was about to happen was just occurring to her, but Adonis was long gone.

Pulling his trouser just low enough to free himself, he gripped her chin in between his hands. Staring into her eyes, he instructed.

"Try not to make a sound."

And then he took her.

Continue to next part

I stood by Franco for seven years. I stayed with him from his days as a Brooklyn street enforcer until he became the Underboss of the Moretti family. We promised to marry the day he fully took over the territory. Until last month. I saw Franco tangled up with someone else on the leather sofa of his safe house. He said she was cold like ice and that the other woman knew exactly how to please a man. He pinned her down. I chose to walk away. I heard the rumors later. After I left. Franco lost his mind.

Mafia Modern Romance

8.2

I Left The Jester For The King

8.2

"Little Siren: I miss your hands on me." That message lit up the screen of a burner phone I found in my fiancé's jacket pocket while he was in the shower. Franco Moretti, the rising star of the Vitiello crime family, treated me like a fragile glass doll. He claimed he was "saving himself" for our wedding night out of respect. But the phone told a different story. I unlocked it and found three years of betrayal. It wasn't just a fling. It was Camilla, a girl from high school I had befriended out of pity. I watched their history unfold. He complained that I was cold. He called me a statue. Then I saw the invoice. He had bought two identical pink diamond engagement rings. One for me, and one for her. Worse, he had stolen my grandmother' s heirloom jade bracelet-a piece of history meant for his bride-and given it to his mistress. "I need her name to get the chair," he texted her. "You are my true Queen." I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I realized I wasn't a person to him; I was a ladder. Leaving him would be too easy. Leaving is what victims do. I walked to my laptop and opened a new document. I wasn't just going to cancel the wedding. I was going to broadcast his ruin to the entire underworld, and our wedding would be my stage. Then, I picked up the phone and dialed the one number my father forbade me to call. "I accept," I told the deep voice on the other end. "You understand what you are agreeing to, Gianna?" Enzo Falcone asked. "I understand," I said, looking at the New York skyline. "You want an alliance. I want a weapon."

Mafia Modern Romance

8.1

Inked by the Mafia King

8.1

Elena’s quiet life as a talented tattoo artist is shattered when she catches the eye of Silas, the ruthless and feared king of the local underworld. Captivated by her skill and spirit, the mafia boss demands she become his exclusive artist, dragging her into a dangerous world of crime and passion. As their intense connection deepens, Elena must navigate a lethal landscape of loyalty and betrayal while resisting the pull of a man who refuses to let her go.

Mafia Modern Romance

7.8

Shadows of the Moon Bond: Sold to the Alpha Don's Fated Rejection

7.8

Elena Voss was sold like a debt receipt. Her greedy aunt and uncle handed her over to Damien Blackthorn-New York's untouchable billionaire tech mogul by day, ruthless Mafia Don and Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack by night-to settle a family debt they never asked her to pay. The moment their eyes met in that rain-soaked alley, the fated mate bond ignited like wildfire. For one reckless night, he claimed her body and soul, whispering "mine" against her skin while the Moon Goddess sealed their destiny. Then came the betrayal. On their first anniversary, he paraded his pureblood fiancée through their penthouse, let her kneel for him in the study while Elena watched from the shadows, and divorced her in front of the entire pack. "Wolfless trash," he snarled. "You were never more than payment." Heart in pieces and two tiny heartbeats growing inside her, Elena fled. She vanished into Seattle's gray drizzle, changed her name, cut her hair, and built a quiet life as a single mother. She swore the Blackthorn name would never touch her twins-Leo and Luna, the secret heirs he didn't even know existed. Five years later, the children's first uncontrolled shifts rip through their small apartment like lightning. The only place that can teach them control and keep them hidden from rival packs is back in New York-back under Damien's shadow. The Alpha Don who once threw her away is now obsessed. The fated bond never died; it only waited. He feels her every laugh, every tear, every protective growl she gives their children. He'll burn his empire, his alliances, and his pride to drag her back. But Elena isn't the broken girl he discarded anymore. She's a mother with claws. A luna who learned to bite. And this time, if he wants her forgiveness, he'll have to beg on his knees. Pregnancy. Divorce. Secret babies. Billionaire alpha. Mafia power plays. Revenge that burns slow and sweet. Some bonds can't be broken. Some rejections come with claws. And some second chances are paid for in blood.

Mafia Modern Werewolf

8.9

My Dead Husband Returned With Another Woman

8.9

Three years after I buried an empty casket for my husband, I found him alive in a grocery store parking lot. He was rubbing a stranger's pregnant belly, smiling a soft smile I had never seen in our years of marriage. My husband, the ruthless Don of Chicago, had become "Arthur," a gentle man with no memory of the empire he ruled or the wife he left behind. To protect his happiness, I swallowed my agony and lied. "I am his cousin," I told his pregnant fiancée, Mia. I brought them home to his estate, enduring the torture of watching him give her the tenderness that used to belong to me. But my mercy was rewarded with cruelty. Dante looked at me with cold, unfamiliar eyes and slapped divorce papers onto the table. "Sign them," he demanded, his voice devoid of emotion. "I want to marry Mia before the baby comes. I want a fresh start." He didn't know I was dying of a heart defect caused by the stress of grieving him. He didn't know I stalled for two weeks not for money, but because I wanted to be buried with his name. I died the morning the deadline arrived, taking the secret of my love to the grave. Ironically, that very night, a bullet grazed his temple during an ambush, unlocking the memories he had lost. He remembered the peach orchard. He remembered our blood oath. He remembered that I was his soulmate. He ran to my brother’s gates, screaming my name, blood pouring down his face, desperate to beg for forgiveness. But my brother just stood there, blocking the entrance to the cemetery with a cruel smile. "She waited for you every single day," he spat. "And you killed her."

Mafia Modern Romance

7.1

The Mafia King's Regret: She Moved On

7.1

For four years, I was the invisible baker's daughter who memorized Dante Vitiello’s routine. I baked stomach-friendly meals for the Underboss of New York, ensuring his ulcer didn't kill him, all while loving him from the shadows. But when I collapsed from exhaustion in his gym, he didn't help me. He looked at me with pure revulsion and asked his guard: "Is she dead? Call pest control." To him, I wasn't a girl; I was a stain that smelled of "grease and desperation." When the Capo’s daughter framed me for stealing family secrets, Dante knew the truth. Yet, he stood silent. He didn't defend me. Instead, he handed me a scholarship check—hush money to exile me from the city, sacrificing my reputation to protect his political alliances. I took the money, not out of gratitude, but out of spite. I burned every sketch, every note, and every shred of the girl who had foolishly loved a monster. I realized I was just a disposable extra in his story. Five years later, I returned as a ruthless top-tier lawyer, engaged to a safe, clean man. Dante, now the Don, cornered me at a gala, looking at me with a desperate hunger he’d never shown before. "I broke you to save you," he claimed, his voice rough with regret. I pulled away and smiled, cold and unyielding. "You didn't save me, Dante. You burned the only person who ever truly loved you. And she’s never coming back."

Action Mafia Modern

Submitting to the Mafia King

Chapter 3

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