Historias cortas de Comedy Mafia y novelas con Devotion

For three months, I’d been seeing a guy named “Rex.” A total stranger I’d only met online. We were in the thick of it, that honeymoon phase where every night my phone would blow up with messages that made my pulse jump. “Miss you, sweetheart.” “Dreamt of you again last night. You were all over me, begging for it.” I was about to suggest we finally meet. But then he sent me a picture, a casual shot of his desk, and I saw something familiar: the crest of the Falcone crime family. And I work for a company owned by the Falcones. For three months, I’d been sexting a dangerous man, a made man in the mafia, who could be right under my nose. And just when I was trying to figure out who he was, I saw them. The custom black onyx cufflinks I’d picked out for “Rex”… on my boss, Marco’s, wrists.

I married my Don husband, Ethan Solas, because of a family arrangement. What he didn’t know was that I’d harbored a long crush on him. He, on the other hand, had never sparked any interest in me. Today marked our third anniversary. After our usual, mechanical lovemaking, Ethan rolled onto his back, leaving me staring at the ceiling. He always treated it like a duty, nothing more. Then a sudden, intrusive voice pierced my mind: “Did Vivian reach her climax? Did I do well? Is it too soon for a second round? Am I desperate? She smells so good…I just want to devour her.” I froze, eyes turned and locked on Ethan’s bare back. Had I imagined it? Or had my icy, distant husband just confessed his wild, obsessive desire for me?

After my father vanished with fifty million dollars belonging to the Vitale Family, I went from a pampered heiress to the Mafia Don's debt-bound maid. On my very first day, I discovered that Cassian—the cold creditor ordering me to polish his shoes by day—was the same online puppy who wore a collar, knelt, and called me Mistress at night. And just the night before, I'd dumped him because I “wasn't in the mood for arelationship.” In the study, he looked down at me coldly. “Miss Bennett, polish my shoes.” “A debtor doesn't get to choose her assignments.” At the same time, my phone was buzzing like crazy in my pocket. The “puppy” I'd blocked seventeen times was already begging through yetanother new account: [Mistress, please don't leave your puppy.] [You can punish your puppy however you want tonight.]