icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon
closeIcon

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Mafia Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Possession and Obsession

Possession and Obsession

"Pick up the gun, Valentina." Her fingers trembled, blood splattered across her silk dress. The metallic scent of death curled in her nose. She shook her head violently. "I won't- please don't make me do this again" Dominic's grip was brutal as he shoved the gun into her palm. "You don't get to say no. Pull the damn trigger." The man kneeling before her sobbed, pleading for mercy. But in this world, mercy is weakness. "If you don't kill him, I will. And then you'll watch as I paint these walls with your family's blood next." Her breath hitched. She pulled the trigger. Valentina Moretti was born into power but raised in ignorance. Kept clean, untouched, and ready by a father whose only use of her was to trade her. Now, she's been gifted to Dominic Caruso, the cold, merciless heir of the most feared Mafia family in the country. A man who bathes in blood, thrives in destruction, and holds no regard for the fragile woman forced into his bed. She was supposed to be a treaty, a way to end a war before it began. But in Dominic's world, peace is just a pretty word whispered by cowards. "You are mine, Valentina. Your body. Your mind. Your soul." "I will never be yours." His smirk was a blade across her throat. "Oh, sweetheart... you already are." She thought she could escape. She thought she could survive him. She was wrong. This is not a love story. This is survival. And Valentina's only options are to kneel... or bleed.
He Erased Me, I Erased Him First

He Erased Me, I Erased Him First

On the night of my career-defining art exhibition, I stood completely alone. My husband, Dante Sovrano, the most feared man in Chicago, had promised he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Instead, he was on the evening news. He was shielding another woman—his ruthless business partner—from a downpour, letting his own thousand-dollar suit get soaked just to protect her. The headline flashed below them, calling their new alliance a "power move" that would reshape the city. The guests at my gallery immediately began to whisper. Their pitying looks turned my greatest triumph into a public spectacle of humiliation. Then his text arrived, a cold, final confirmation of my place in his life: “Something came up. Isabella needed me. You understand. Business.” For four years, I had been his possession. A quiet, artistic wife kept in a gilded cage on the top floor of his skyscraper. I poured all my loneliness and heartbreak onto my canvases, but he never truly saw my art. He never truly saw me. He just saw another one of his assets. My heart didn't break that night. It turned to ice. He hadn't just neglected me; he had erased me. So the next morning, I walked into his office and handed him a stack of gallery contracts. He barely glanced up, annoyed at the interruption to his empire-building. He snatched the pen and signed on the line I’d marked. He didn’t know the page tucked directly underneath was our divorce decree. He had just signed away his wife like she was nothing more than an invoice for art supplies.