Falcone Batman

" Believe me, Hazel, I never for once stopped thinking about you " he breathed in my ears while thrusting into me " ahhh...hhh, fuccckk, Dunlop " I moaned ***************** The day Hazel divorced her billionaire husband after she found out that he cheated on her with her best friend was the same day she found out that she was pregnant. She decides to move away from her billionaire husband to a new city to raise her baby. She found a new job, a new life, a new everything. She even starts an affair with her billionaire CEO boss. Everything goes well until her little boy brings a friend back from school who happens to be the son of her ex-husband. Which of the billionaire men will Hazel choose? Will she rekindle her love for her ex-husband or will she continue with her boss who was always there for her? Will her son's friendship with her ex-husband's son cause problems?

“Tell me you hate me, Victoria,” his voice rasped as his hands slid beneath my skirt, “and I’ll stop.” But my moan betrayed me before my words even could but I still couldn’t let him win. “I hate you,” I whispered, even as my nails dug into his shoulders. He only smirked, dragging me against his hard length pressing into my belly. “Then hate me with your legs open, sweetheart. Because you’ll never hate me enough to stop wanting me.”Prosecutor Victoria Harper hasn’t felt wanted in months. Her fiancé, a rising politician, parades her like a trophy for his campaign but behind closed doors, he starves her of affection and feeds her bruises instead. Then a cruel twist of fate changes everything: she’s pregnant. And the father isn’t her fiancé. It’s Christian Malcolm, her high school bully turned ruthless mafia heir, the very man she’s been building a case to destroy. He’s dangerous. Possessive. Addicted to claiming her and the child growing inside her. And no matter how much she hates him, no matter how fiercely she vows to take him down, her body betrays her with every forbidden glance, every stolen touch. Now Victoria is caught between justice and desire; between the oath she swore to uphold and the man whose kiss sets her on fire. But what happens when the enemy she’s sworn to ruin is the only one who makes her feel alive? ⚠️ Content Warnings: Contains themes of abuse, coercion, emotional manipulation, dark romance, and mature sexual tension. Recommended for readers 18+.

After my sister's death, I signed a five-year contract marriage with her mafia husband, Horton Falcone. I became the stepmother to my five-year-old nephew, Luca. On my birthday, I wore my late sister's diamond cross necklace, not realizing what it was. At the family dinner, Luca walked up to me with a glass of red wine and threw the wine in my face. The red wine dripped down my cheeks, its sharp scent stinging my eyes and staining my white dress. He tilted his head back to look up at me, his eyes as cold and cruel as his father's. "Don't think you can replace my mom just because you married into the Falcone family," he said with a malicious grin. "You're the reason she's dead." "I wish you were the one who died. Then I could smash your gravestone instead of celebrating this stupid birthday." "I swear, when I grow up, the first thing I'll do is dump you in the Hudson River myself!" The memory stung as sharply as the wine, and all I could taste was despair. I stared at the child I had spent five years raising as my own, a sharp pain pulsing in my chest. I had thought I could devote myself to the Falcone family, that I could win him over with my love. But now, I was just so tired of it all. It was a family with no love, a child who saw me as his mortal enemy. I stopped deluding myself. It was time to let go. But after I left, that arrogant father and son came crawling back to me like whipped dogs, begging for my forgiveness.

Rocco Falcone, que é o Don da família Falcone e meu suposto marido, desliga na minha cara pelo que parece ser a 99ª vez. Tendo sido diagnosticada com leucemia, arrasto meu corpo devastado até o escritório do advogado da família. — Estou aqui para pedir o divórcio. — Eu disse. … Quando Rocco fica sabendo, ele invade o local com a minha família dez minutos depois. No momento em que entra, ele me dá um tapa. — Você usou a linha de emergência só para arruinar a grande noite da Sofia? Você perdeu a cabeça? Lily Marone, minha mãe, arranca o diagnóstico da minha mão e o folheia rapidamente. Ela ri de forma desdenhosa. — Você fingiu estar doente só para chamar atenção? Quantas mentiras você contou desde criança, Claire? Sofia Moretti segura o braço de Rocco com lágrimas nos olhos. — Me perdoe, Claire. Eu não deveria ter aceitado o cargo. Por favor, pare de se machucar e de machucar o Rocco. Eu limpo o sangue da boca e me viro de volta para o advogado. — Eu não tenho mais família. Por favor, agilize a papelada do divórcio. Preciso que tudo esteja resolvido antes da minha cremação em três dias.

Rocco Falcone, le Don de la famille Falcone et mon soi-disant mari, m'a raccroché au nez pour ce qui m'a semblé être la quatre-vingt-dix-neuvième fois. Après avoir reçu un diagnostic de leucémie, j'ai traîné mon corps ravagé jusqu'au cabinet de l'avocat de la famille. « Je viens pour le divorce », ai-je dit. … Quand Rocco l'a appris, il est arrivé dix minutes plus tard avec ma famille. À peine est-il entré qu'il m'a giflée. « Tu as utilisé la ligne d'urgence juste pour gâcher la grande soirée de Sofia ? Tu es devenue folle ? », a-t-il crié. Lily Marone, ma mère, m'a arraché le diagnostic des mains et l'a parcouru rapidement. Elle a laissé échapper un rire méprisant. « Tu as encore fait semblant d'être malade pour attirer l'attention ? Combien de mensonges as-tu racontés depuis que tu es enfant, Claire ? » Sofia Moretti tenait le bras de Rocco, les larmes aux yeux. « Pardonne-moi, Claire. Je n'aurais pas dû accepter ce poste. S'il te plaît, arrête de te faire du mal… et de faire du mal à Rocco. » J'ai essuyé le sang au coin de ma bouche, puis je me suis tournée de nouveau vers l'avocat. « Je n'avais plus de famille. Veuillez accélérer la procédure de divorce. J'ai besoin que tout soit réglé avant ma crémation, dans trois jours. »

After her boyfriend vanishes, Lila Falcone is imprisoned in a brutal mafia world by Nico, the ruthless twin of the man she loved. What begins as punishment turns into a dangerous obsession, blurring the lines between hatred and desire. “Your life belongs to me; you should extinguish even the thought of escape.” His kiss was laced with blood, his possessiveness almost consuming her. But when the death order, "Lila must die," spreads throughout the mafia world, it is this same man who protects her from torment with blood-stained hands. As dark secrets surface, Lila must choose between survival and freedom before their forbidden connection destroys them both

"I spent three years being his 'used rag.' Now, I’m the one cleaning up his empire, starting with the trash." For three years, Shay Falcone lived for her husband, Massimo. She worked twelve-hour shifts behind the scenes, skipping meals and sleep to ensure his company became a billion-dollar legend. She was his ghostwriter, his secret strategist, and his most loyal soldier. She thought her reward would be the child growing inside her. But on the night of the Billionaire Launch, Massimo didn't give her a thank you. He gave her a death sentence. "You're a used rag, Shay," he sneered in front of the world's cameras. "A servant I don't need to pay. Meet my real wife, Elena." One shove from his bodyguards sent Shay spiraling into a stone fountain. As Massimo walked away to celebrate his wealth, Shay lay in a pool of blood, feeling the heartbeat of her child stop forever. Two years later, the rag is gone. The Ice Queen has arrived. When Massimo’s empire begins to crumble, he begs for a meeting with the untouchable Alessia Valois. He expects a savior; instead, he finds the wife he killed. "Shay?" Massimo gasps, reaching for her. "I... I’ve realized my mistake. Please, I still love you." Alessia doesn't even look up from her glass of vintage scotch. She steps over his hand as if he were a stain on the carpet. "I’m sorry, Mr. Falcone," she purrs, her voice cold enough to freeze his soul. "The woman who loved you died in a fountain. I’m just here to collect the debt."

This was the sixth time Dante Falcone had slammed that damned divorce agreement down in front of me, forcing me to sign. This time, I did not resist. He set down the pen. In that instant, a suffocating silence filled the room. His deep brown eyes locked onto me, sharp and probing, as if he were trying to see straight through my soul. "Why so obedient this time, Sofia? Or are you planning another trick? Don't forget who you are. Mrs. Falcone." I removed the ruby ring that symbolized the mistress of the family, the one he had placed on my finger when he proposed to me in Sicily. I set it gently on the desk, a surface stained with both blood and money. My voice was calm, lifeless. "No, Dante. I'm just... tired. Your world is too loud."

“Is Batman my daddy?” my son Jackson pipes up from the back seat. Of course not! But telling him that his father is Asher Giordano, leader of New York’s deadliest mafia empire is out of the question. He found us anyway. “What have you done with Jackson?” I demand. “My son?” Asher asks calmly, looking around my small apartment disdainfully. “The one you’ve been hiding from me and forcing to live in this…pigeonhole?” Our son, not yours. “You’re the one who left me at the alter without as much as a ‘see you later’. If you left me a forwarding address to contact you at, I must have missed it.” Asher regards me coldly. I don’t know this man. The boy I fell in love with was warm, giving and open. This man in front of me is frostier than the arctic with his glacial eyes. “I know you know who I am and what I’m capable of, so don’t try anything stupid, Emmeline. There’s nowhere you can run where I can’t find you.” “Gosh, Asher, that’s like a line straight out of a movie. Have you been practicing delivering it in front of a mirror?”

Colter Giordano, my fiancé of six years, heir to the Giordano family, took a bullet for a dancer named Mia. He didn't take one for me. A bullet tore through my shoulder. Blood bloomed across my dress, hot and sticky. But my heart hurt worse. He asked if I was okay. Just once. Then he rushed Mia to the hospital, leaving me bleeding on the floor. The next day, Mia's picture popped up on my Instagram feed. There she was, in a luxury hospital suite. Colter was fussing over a scratch on her arm that was barely there. The caption was just two words: "My Hero." I liked the post. Then I made an encrypted call. "The Falcone family's offer," I said. "I'm taking it. Get me on a plane to Sicily. Three days."