Don't Leave It's My Fault Novels & Stories

The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief. Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack. But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits. During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation. Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess. Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud. But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm. "Did the beast hurt you?" Just that one question, and my heart melted completely. "Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?" "I don't share my man. Not in any way." He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty." After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this: If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own. Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me. Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy. Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was. Daemon chuckled and said casually, "She asked me if anyone had my heart before her." "I told her no."

Ronan Blackthorne gets the same coffee every morning. Black, no sugar. From the same girl who doesn't even know he's worth billions. Annabelle thinks he's just another suit with good tips and a nice smile. She has no clue he owns half of Manhattan. Here's the thing though, Ronan's got a problem. His dead father just screwed him over big time. Turns out daddy had a secret daughter somewhere, and she owns 35% of everything Ronan thought was his. Now he's hunting this mystery girl down because his psychotic mother Victoria won't shut up about finding her and making the problem disappear. The barista he's falling for is the girl he's looking for.

"Melonie Starling, I, Bolin Crescent, reject you as my rightful mate." His jawline tightened, and his arms rolled into a fist, squeezed angrily by each word. Every word that departed from his mouth felt like salt thrown into an open wound, and I became so weak that my entire body shook. Witnessing the pain of the rejection I'm going through, Alpha Bolin said, "You'd be a joke and unfit to be my Luna, so make it easier for yourself and also reject me as your mate." ******** Melonie is anxious to find her mate, the one who will give her what she has been longing for her entire life: to be loved. Discovering under the full moon that her alpha, Bolin, is her mate, she knows right away that he would never accept her as his Luna much as a mate. Alpha Bolin rejects her on the spot and uses his alpha voice, forcing her, against her will, to also reject him and flee from her, breaking every hope Melonie had in him. How will Melonie carry on, knowing the wolf she has been waiting for her entire life to give her what she has always dreamed of, choose to share it with another she-wolf who has made her life a living hell?

🔞 MATURE CONTENT WARNING! This book contains explicit language, sexual content and adult themes. If it's not your thing, you might want to skip this one. Otherwise; enjoy the ride!🔞 Gwendolyn thought she had the perfect life, a thriving career as a chef and a boyfriend she adored. But when he shatters her heart on their anniversary, she drowns her sorrows in a night of reckless abandon at a gay bar. One steamy encounter with Armando Denaro changes everything.   She never expected to see him again until he showed up with a shocking revelation. Armando isn’t just any man; he’s the ruthless Mafia Don, and their one-night stand has put a target on her back. To keep her safe, he offers her only one choice: a contract marriage.   Thrown into a world of power, danger, and deadly secrets, Gwen must decide if she can trust the man who holds her fate in his hands. But as passion ignites between them, she uncovers a chilling truth—their pasts are tangled in ways neither of them ever imagined.   Now, love isn’t just dangerous. It’s lethal!

I’ve been in love with the Don of the Moretti family for ten years, and everyone knows he loves me more than life itself. In seven days, he’s throwing me a massive, grand wedding that will be live-streamed to the entire world. But I’m the only one who knows the truth: he’s been keeping a mistress behind my back. He’s kept her for two whole years, and he’s lied to my face for just as long. I didn't call him out on it. Instead, I planned a fake death. At our wedding in seven days, he’s going to lose me forever.

I used to love my husband. Until he drugged me… Until my eyesight faded into darkness… Until my legs stopped obeying me… And he walked away without a backward glance. June, a cafe shop owner who lost her sight and the use of her legs mysteriously met a young man, Mark Lawson who happened to be sweet and nice to her and even married her despite her condition. But it turns out that Mark isn't who she thought he was. She was merely a bait in the game. Rhys Morozov, a Mafia heir and Don and retired soldier who was sent by his father to eliminate an enemy with the disguise as Mark Lawson, a botanist who has a blind and crippled wife. He keeps drugging her so as to keep on with the lie. Rhys thought she was soft and sweet but turns out after he left, it was only a facade. she wants him at all costs and is willing to do anything to get him. She happens to be in the same unit as his subordinate and he can't seem to push her away, no matter what. Will she find out the truth and will he knows the sacrifices she has to make to get there? especially when she has to lose herself in the process of a forbidden love affair between her and her boss. Trigger warnings: Nonconsensual acts, breeding kink, anal, toy play, praise and degradation kink, breathing kink among others. Read at your own safety.

He’s even more attractive up close, my nostrils are invaded with his expensive scent and sex appeal. My knees grow week in my seven inches platform heels. His perfect brow raised. “Did I not request for a private session?” My daze was broken as I blushed in embarrassment of literally eye fucking this man. I nodded slowly and cleared my throat. “There’s a no touching rule, sir.” I state breathlessly. He stared down at me intensely with a slight smirk on his full lips. “Go on.” ******** Yanna has been stripping for a year to pay off medical bills, unknown to her that she is the daughter to the former don of the Italian mafia. An unexpected private session with a mysterious man, changes the course of her life as he is none other than Enzo Bernadi, the current don of the italian mafia who had been promised a wife by the former don. What happens as she is forced to wed Enzo and has to adjust to the life a mafia don's wife. Expect thrilling plot twist, action, betrayals and most importantly, the steamy romance that'll brew due to their force proximity. *Expect mature scenes*

When I pushed open the oakwood door to the manor’s study, I never expected to walk into such a scene. Juliana was sprawled across the desk, her posture leaving little to the imagination. As if not R-rated enough, her mini dress was pulled up to her waist, and her black lace clung to her thigh, barely covering her modesty. She looked back with a smile. “Alessia, my back is acting up again. Matteo’s just helping me out.” Matteo, my husband and a Don, rose to his feet, a tube of ointment in hand. He didn’t look like someone who had been caught out. “She couldn’t reach her back, so I thought I ought to lend a hand.” Matteo grabbed the dressing and pressed the gauze against her skin. He sure took his time. Tilting her head, Juliana met my gaze. “Don’t get the wrong idea. We grew up together. That’s how family is. We don’t care about that kind of stuff.” In my past life, I bolted into the room and grabbed Juliana by the hair to yank her off the desk. She turned to the side, shoving me hard into the sharp corner of the desk. I hit my head on the cold marble edge. The next thing I knew, I was a dead body in the morgue. This time, I stood in the doorway motionlessly. Since Juliana wanted to play the game, I’d be sure to hold my cards close to my chest.

In all the eight years after Mamma died, Father hated me. He hated me for causing Mamma’s death, and he hated me even more because I didn’t resemble her at all. So he adopted a girl who looked eighty percent like Mamma and raised her as the principessa of the Vitale family. He brought her to banquets hosted by the five Mafia families of Corholt and seated her beside him at negotiation tables. In front of the entire family, he publicly declared that his adopted daughter, Bianca Vitale, was his only heir. Meanwhile, I wore a servant’s apron and lived in a cellar beneath the estate. He allowed Bianca to break my fingers, slash my face, and lock me inside the morgue freezer. “This is what you deserve.” I believed it, too. Until my sixteenth birthday, when Mamma came back.

The plane touched down in Tripoli at dusk. Behind me, the sky was on fire. I pulled out my phone and typed a message to my husband, Don Vito Hart. [I'm here. I came to bring you home.] No reply. I called his underboss, Enzo Stark. His voice was hesitant. "You… you really went to Libya?" An explosion rattled the terminal windows. My heart slammed against my ribs. "Which district is he in?" A long pause. Then, quieter: "He never left the country." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "The business trip… it was a lie." The line went dead. A photo appeared on my screen. Time-stamped today. Vito was smiling. Bright, but something behind his eyes looked tired. His arm was wrapped around a woman. They were blowing out candles on a birthday cake. I recognized her instantly. Rosa Quinn. The woman he'd knelt and sworn on his mother's grave never to see again. Three years ago. I still had the scar on my own palm where I'd made him swear. Vito had forgotten. Today was my birthday too. My phone buzzed again. "Sera, the truth is—the Don never ended things with Rosa. We all knew. But you two seemed so happy… no one dared tell you." I read the message twice. Then I slipped the phone into my pocket. There was no need to pretend anymore.