She intended to trap him with her feelings… but also got trapped in his embrace. Hope Morgan steps into the world of the Masons with fire in her veins and secrets stitched into her soul. All she needs is to get close to Ace Mason—the ruthless, magnetic heir to a bloodstained empire. Cold. Unreachable. Lethal. He’s everything she should fear. And yet, she finds herself drawn to the storm behind his silence. What begins as a calculated seduction spirals into something deeper, darker… and far more dangerous. Every touch, every stolen glance pulls her further from her purpose and closer to the truth—a truth that could destroy them both. When lines between enemy and lover blur, and loyalty is a loaded gun, Hope must choose: betray the man who set her world on fire, or burn with him.
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THE BOOK
This is my first book on good novel and also my first mafia romance ever. I sincerely hope that you find it interesting and engage massively. I am going to have fun and enjoy writing this piece, so have fun reading it as well.
I will try my best to keep updating it as often as I can and the goal is to finish everything about HOW TO TRAP A MAFIA BOSS by December.
Have fun and leave me comments and reviews. I would really appreciate hearing your opinions.
ACEThe tension between the Giordanos and the Masons could slice through steel.After the FBI seized one of their warehouses, they’d been on a warpath, accusing everyone except themselves for the fallout. They’d been sloppy—greedy even. That was their mistake. But when pride and power are on the line, logic doesn’t stand a chance.Still, they were barking at the wrong gate.And then Enzo Giordano showed up. Not in some dimly lit alley or backroom club where secrets and blood deals were usually exchanged.No.He showed up at Mason Enterprise. My office.I was reviewing reports when the elevator chimed, and the air changed. The kind of change that made even the air itself uncomfortable. My door opened without a knock, and there he was.Enzo Giordano. Tall, tailored, and reeking of entitlement and misplaced rage.“Quite the risky move,” I muttered, leaning back in my seat and fol
HOPEEverything had changed.Not just the way he looked at me—softer now, more lingering. Or the way his touch wasn’t always fire and restraint, but warmth. Real.It was everything. The silence. The eye contact. The way he stood just a little closer than before.Ace Mason, the man who didn’t bend for anyone, loosened up around me. He smirked more. Joked, even. Touched me just because.It would be delusional to think I hadn’t trapped him. And yet... the dangerous part? I felt trapped too.Not by him. But by whatever this was—between us. I kept reminding myself why I was here. What I was supposed to be doing. But each time he pulled me into his arms, whispered my name like a secret only he was allowed to keep, it got harder to remember.We stayed back for a few extra days after the gala. Days we spent getting lost in hotel sheets and between kisses. It was reckless, selfish—and addictive.By the time we landed back home, I had to
HOPEI should’ve been furious. Embarrassed. Terrified even.Instead, all I could feel was a wicked thrill humming through me.Ace had punched a mafia heir in the middle of a gala—because of me. Not business. Not strategy. Me.It wasn’t smart. It wasn’t safe. But God, it made something dangerous in me flutter.He was possessive.And I liked it.Even now, in the quiet of his suite, as the door clicked shut behind us, I could still feel the raw edge of his temper vibrating through the air. He hadn’t said a word since we left the gala, but his jaw was clenched, and his eyes burned like fire.I should’ve been thinking about the Bureau. About Evans. About the intel I’d just gathered from the women lounging around in designer gowns and bloodstained secrets. I’d worked quickly, slipping into conversations like a ghost, planting harmless questions here and there—gathering just enough to put names to whispers.But then Sa
HOPEThe clinking of silverware and soft classical music filled the extravagant dining hall. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above us like frozen fire. Every table was its own universe of whispered power plays and fake laughter.I sat beside Ace, trying to blend in. Trying to remember that I was playing a role—a carefully scripted character who didn’t have real feelings for the man beside her. Too bad my body never got the memo.Dinner had barely started when trouble arrived.He walked in like he owned the damn floor. Broad shoulders, a scar splitting one brow, and the kind of smirk that promised danger for breakfast and disaster for dessert.“Ace,” he called out smoothly as he approached our table. “Didn’t think you’d actually bring a date. She’s a knockout.”Ace’s jaw clenched, but he kept his tone even. “Salvatore. Thought they banned you from anything with table manners.”“Temporarily,” the man chuckled. “But I clean up well, don’t I
ACEThe hotel was lavish—five stars and all that jazz—but I barely noticed the gold chandeliers or the overpriced scent wafting through the corridors. My mind was wired tight with the coming gala. Not the charity part of it, of course. That was just fluff for the press. What really mattered were the faces behind the champagne flutes—the ones who ran underground networks with the elegance of politicians and the ruthlessness of warlords.Hope’s suite was directly across from mine.Of course, it was my idea. Not close enough to be suspicious. Not far enough to lose track of her.She disappeared into the room without a word, suitcase rolling behind her, and I didn’t knock. Not yet.Thirty minutes later, I made the call for her to be taken to a private styling suite downtown—somewhere discreet but equipped enough to transform her into the kind of woman this world admired and secretly feared.And maybe I wanted to see what she looked like when she wasn’t trying to blend into shadows.I got
HOPEThe morning sun crept lazily into my room as I zipped the last corner of my suitcase shut. The navy-blue dress Bee helped me pick was packed away neatly, waiting for its debut. For now, I wore something... safer—but definitely suggestive.A black crop sweater that showed just a hint of toned stomach. High-waisted jeans that hugged my curves too well. Comfortable white sneakers. Hair up in a claw clip, just messy enough to say “I didn’t try hard” when I very much did. A spritz of light floral perfume and I was ready.Not to impress Ace, of course.Just... representing the enterprise. Professionally.Okay, maybe a little to impress Ace.A few minutes later, one of his men knocked and escorted me down to the waiting black SUV that drove us straight to the Mason's private airport. The moment I stepped out and saw the sleek jet glinting in the early light, reality settled in.This was my life now. Mafia-linked charity gala in another city. Designer gowns. Secret agendas. And Ace freak
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