Lucy Cartwright
1 Published Story
Lucy Cartwright's Book and Story
Love Turns To Ashes
Mafia I grew up with Asher from a young age.
He once saved my life by taking a hit meant for me from an enemy, and I was kidnapped and brutally mistreated because of him.
Everyone in the circle knew that I, the daughter of the Dixon family, was the center of Asher's world.
But when he returned from building a branch in the Golden Triangle after two years, he brought back a young woman dressed in immaculate white.
She looked pure, but she was provocative in her gaze.
"Nicola, it was just an accident between Asher and me, but he insists on taking responsibility for me. Please stop him."
I looked at her hand resting on her belly with Asher's ring around her finger. My fingers trembled slightly.
The next moment, the bodyguard behind me pressed a cold gun barrel against that young woman's temple.
I turned to Asher, who was clenching his fists tightly.
I said coldly, "If you insist on marrying her, then leave the Dixon family for good." You might like
Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Gavin I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle
G~Aden I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body.
My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in.
I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then-
I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses.
Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down-
He's still hard.
Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance.
"You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless.
"I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat.
And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm.
"Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
***
Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge.
She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez.
He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her.
What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated.
Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty?
And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?
Marrying The Rival: My Ex-Husband's Despair
Gavin I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. The Devil Wants Me
Demi-Dean "Lovely, Cara," he whispers, licking and kissing my clit.
I'm twitching, shaking, back arched-
He reaches down and picks up the champagne bottle, pouring out the liquid on my body. I gasp at the sudden bubbling cold.
I try to wriggle away but he holds me down and sucks the champagne, licking me clean, making these filthy delighted noises as he does it.
"I couldn't help myself. You taste too good."
-
Fed up with her abusive husband, twenty-three-year-old Cara Hellington runs away from home and ends up in a notorious bar, destitute, sad, but relieved and free. When she gets into a verbal altercation with the snotty bartender over the ownership of her credit cards, an unlikely savior comes to her aid.
Eros Kazan Alfred.
He's tall, massive, rippling with muscles, and covered with dark tattoos.
Everything Cara is not used to.
Everything Cara is drawn to.
She should run towards the opposite direction, away from him. But she runs right onto his bed.
After a hot sizzling night together, Cara is comfortable and confident in him taking good care of her. But tensions are rising all around them, as significant figures from their past will stop at nothing to bring them both down.
Will they succumb under the wickedly twisted circumstances fate seems to be throwing at them? Left To Drown: The Heiress's Cold Departure
Gavin I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history.
But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me.
He swam past me.
He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water.
When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl.
"You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home."
Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her.
I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife."
He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps.
He was wrong.
While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room.
I was packing his ring into a cardboard box.
I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead.
By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession. The Ruthless Don's Obsession: You Can't Run
Gavin I walked into the Thorn estate with another man's diamond on my finger, naive enough to think it could shield me from Marcus.
But the Don of the city’s underworld didn't even blink.
He called my engagement ring a "cute trinket" and introduced me to his own fiancée, Chloe, right then and there.
"Love is a fairy tale for children, Ellie," he sneered. "And you are far too old for fairy tales."
I tried to leave with dignity, but the knife twisted deeper. I found my mother’s silver locket—the one he swore to protect with his life—buried in the mud like trash.
He hadn't just rejected me; he had erased me.
Broken, I fled to Florence to marry a man I didn't love, just to escape the suffocation of the estate.
But I couldn't outrun the heartbreak. I collapsed in a foreign apartment, burning with fever, while my fiancé worried more about wedding seating charts than my life.
I thought I was going to die alone.
Until I woke up in a sterile clinic room.
My fiancé was gone.
Standing by my bed, looking like a vengeful god who had just burned down a city to get to me, was Marcus.
He trapped me against the mattress, his eyes dark with a terrifying mix of rage and possession.
"Did you really think you could run from me?" he growled.
"I returned the locket," I whispered, trembling. "We are even."
"Fuck the locket," he said. "You belong to me, Ellie. And I am not leaving without you." He Broke Me, Another Man Fixed Me
Gavin My husband, the ruthless Don of the Parks family, made his choice.
When his mistress burst in screaming that her son was sick, Jackson didn't hesitate. He left me—his wife who had just been poisoned—pinned against the wall to die, rushing to comfort a child who wasn't even his blood.
That night, "Elena Parks" died in a fiery car crash.
I spent years rebuilding myself in France, hidden by Hamilton Nixon, a man who loved me in the shadows. I finally found peace. I finally felt free.
But Jackson found out the truth. He discovered the boy was another man's son and that his mistress had been drugging him. Instead of letting me go, his grief turned into a terrifying obsession.
He hunted me down, kidnapped me, and dragged me back to the estate that had been my prison.
I woke up tied to our marriage bed with silk ribbons.
"I'm building a garden," he whispered maniacally, stroking my hair as I struggled against the bonds. "Just like you wanted. We're going to be happy."
He thought kidnapping was a grand romantic gesture. He thought he could erase the abuse with a fresh coat of paint and forced proximity.
But he underestimated me. And he underestimated Hamilton.
After a violent rescue, I rose from the ashes not as his wife, but as a titan of industry.
Six months later, Jackson stormed the stage at my global summit. He knelt before me on live television, holding a ten-carat pink diamond, thinking he could buy my forgiveness.
"I'm ready to take you back," he announced to the world.
I looked at the man who had destroyed me, then at Hamilton, the man who had saved me.
I grabbed Hamilton's lapels and kissed him in front of millions.
"There is no 'us', Jackson," I told him into the microphone, watching his world shatter. "You are just haunting a graveyard." The Waitress Is Actually The Mafia Queen
Gavin I spent a year scrubbing floors in my fiancé’s club, hiding my identity as the daughter of the Capo dei Capi.
I needed to know if Connor Bishop was a King worth merging empires with, or just a puppet.
The answer came walking in wearing a neon pink dress.
Jaden Juarez, a civilian he was infatuated with, didn't just treat me like a servant; she deliberately poured scalding espresso over my hand because I refused to be her valet.
The pain was blinding, my skin blistering instantly.
I video-called Connor, showing him the burn, expecting him to enforce the code of our world.
Instead, seeing his investors watching, he panicked.
He chose to sacrifice me to save face.
"Get on your knees," he roared through the speaker. "Beg her pardon. Show her the respect she deserves."
He wanted the daughter of the most dangerous man on the East Coast to kneel to his mistress.
He thought he was showing strength.
He didn't realize he was looking at a woman who could burn his entire world to ash with a single phone call.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
I simply hung up the phone and locked the kitchen doors.
Then, I dialed the one number everyone in the underworld feared.
"Dad," I said, my voice cold as steel. "Code Black. Bring the papers."
"And send the wolves." Rejected by the Mafia Don, Claimed by His Rival
Gavin For eight years, I was raised to be his queen. My entire world was built on the promise that I would marry Dante Moretti, the future Don of the city's most powerful family.
But on the eve of our betrothal, I overheard his plan. He was going to cast me aside for another woman, Isabella, and a street orphan he would pass off as his heir.
He publicly humiliated me at his party, introducing her as his true queen. When a crystal chandelier fell from the ceiling, he used his own body to shield her, leaving me to be crushed beneath it.
Later, after falsely accusing me of attacking her, he shoved my head under the freezing water of a pool, hissing that my love for him was "disgusting."
But the truth that finally destroyed me was worse. For ten years, Dante had been obsessed with a scent he thought was mine. It was all a lie—a custom perfume Isabella had been wearing all along. I was never the one he wanted; I was just a case of mistaken identity.
After he broke my bones and shattered my spirit, I finally made a choice. I accepted my brother's offer to escape to the rival Falcone territory. As our jet prepared for takeoff, I blocked Dante's frantic calls without looking back. This time, I was leaving for good.