Marco Brüschweiler

In the third year of our marriage, I suddenly received a wedding invitation from my own husband, with the bride being my cousin, Lina. Following the address on the invitation, I flew to America. However, the moment I arrived, I saw my husband, Marco, the youngest Don in Italy, wrapping his arm around Lina as they toasted together. Fireworks burst across the sky, forming both of their names. Inside the chapel, his men laughed and joked. “In Italy, he married Aurora, and in America, he'll marry Lina. The Don really gets the best of both worlds!” “But didn’t he say he didn’t feel anything for Lina?” Marco’s deep voice cut through the noise. “I really didn’t, at first. To me, she was just a kid, but she pursued me for years. She never cared how cold I was, and she even stayed by my side for the two years I was paralyzed, taking care of me. Even if my heart were made of stone, I couldn’t stay unmoved forever.” The two years he was paralyzed… So during those years, while I was out in the desert, eating sand and sleeping under the open sky, fighting exhaustion just to gather rare medicinal extracts to treat his injured spine, my husband had begun his romance with my cousin. I wiped my tears, pulled out the divorce papers Marco had signed when he first got hurt, and added my own signature. If devotion can’t compare to someone simply staying by his side, I don’t need a man who can betray me so easily.

Valeria Romano was nineteen when her father was murdered. For five years she trained, sacrificed and bled ... building her entire life around one name. Lorenzo De Luca. The mafia king she believed gave the order. When she finally gets her shot at him, he doesn't run. He sits her down and shows her a photograph. The man responsible for her father's death was never Lorenzo. It was her uncle Marco. The man who handed her the wrong name the morning after the murder and watched her chase the wrong target for five years while he rebuilt his empire on her father's grave. Lorenzo proposes a contract marriage ... a strategic alliance that puts them both inside striking distance of Marco before he buries the truth permanently. Valeria agrees. Not because she trusts him. Because Marco Romano just became her real target. What follows is a race against a closing window. Spies inside the estate. A bought witness. A dead man who turns out to be very much alive. Two people who came together as enemies slowly building something neither of them has a name for. And a summit where Valeria must stand before the five ruling families with five years of truth ... and finally make it count. Marco goes to a cell. The war ends. But war leaves marks. The real question driving this story is never whether Valeria can destroy the man who killed her father. It is whether she can survive who she became in the process ... and whether the man she married to win a war is the same man worth staying for when it is over. Some revenge stories end with justice. This one is just getting started.

Dans un monde régi par le crime et la loi du plus fort, Elena De Luca, fille d’un puissant parrain, est projetée dans un jeu dangereux lorsqu’elle croise la route de Dante Valenti, l’homme le plus redouté de la mafia italienne. Il est impitoyable, dominateur, et son emprise sur elle est immédiate. Quand Elena assiste à une exécution qui ne lui était pas destinée, Dante décide de faire d’elle sa captive… ou sa reine. Mais entre eux, ce n’est pas seulement une question de pouvoir : c’est une attraction brutale, un désir brûlant qui les consume. Dans un univers de trahisons, de guerres de clans et de serments brisés, Elena devra choisir : fuir cet homme qui la possède déjà… ou embrasser les ténèbres à ses côtés. Une histoire où l’amour et la violence s’entrelacent, où chaque regard est une menace, chaque baiser une brûlure, et où le sang versé scelle les serments les plus indélébiles.

I'm the so-called 'Lady of Glory'—yeah, that girl from the Archbishop's prophecy. They said I'd bring endless glory to whatever Family I married into. But at our engagement party, my fiancé—Marco Falcone—swaggered onstage holding hands with his pregnant stripper girlfriend. Then he grabbed my wrist, dragged me forward, and made me kiss her hand. "Lola's the only woman I'll ever call my wife," he said with a smug little grin. "If you still want this marriage, your De Luca money better support her and the baby." I slapped him. Ripped the contract in half. Let it snow confetti. "Please. I can marry someone a hundred times better." Right when I was about to torch the entire Falcone Family, someone stepped out of the shadows. Marco's older brother, Dante Falcone. The one who'd been injured, underestimated, and pushed aside. He locked eyes with me, totally unfazed. "Signorina De Luca, do your words still stand?"

THE CAPO'S DEADLY BRIDE : SHH... I TAME REAL MEN. Delilah Flynn is an orphan living in Ashwood City with her aunt. She has a gorgeous face and that curvy body that no man could resist. She is true beauty! At day, Delilah works as a coffee shop owner, but at night, she is the sexy pole dancer who steals the spotlight. She does not just ignite the desires in men, she tame them and bend them to her will. Suddenly, she is trapped in a web, where she is forced to get married to a dangerous man in the Cosa Nostra's organisation, Marco Donato. Her in-laws believed that she was the perfect, holy, submissive wife for Marco Donato, but no, she is not. She is the one who drags him by his tie, licks his ear lobe, and whispers, "Shh... I tame real men." [Warning: This book contains graphic violence, dark content, explicit scenes, rape (not between ML and FL), explicit language, and mature themes. It may be triggering for some readers due to scenes of violence, coercion, and emotional distress.] Author: @Royalmary23

Durante cinco años, Marco Falcone fue el hombre perfecto. O al menos eso creía. La ilusión se rompió en la noche de nuestra fiesta de compromiso, cuando su amante irrumpió, acompañada de un niño de cinco años. El niño corrió directamente hacia Marco, llorando: —¡Papá! ¡Papá, finalmente te encontré! Tenía que ser algún tipo de cruel broma. Pero entonces Marco se volvió hacia mí, con la voz despojada de toda calidez: —Este es mi hijo, Leo. Un… error que Sofia y yo cometimos hace cinco años. —Leo es el heredero de los Falcone. Tengo que legitimarlo. Eso significa que primero me comprometeré con Sofia. —Pero Lydia, créeme, todavía te amo. Podemos celebrar nuestra fiesta de compromiso en seis meses. Vas a ser la Donna de la familia Falcone. Espero que seas generosa y comprensiva. Esto no es negociable. Reí, un sonido frío y cortante, y deslicé el anillo de compromiso de mi dedo. Mis ojos recorrieron la sala y se fijaron en el hombre en la esquina: Lorenzo Moretti, el Don más poderoso de Nueva York. Tenía otro título, uno que solo yo conocía: el hombre que había estado tratando de hacerme suya. —Don Moretti, —llamé, con la voz clara y firme—. Me encuentro en necesidad de un nuevo prometido. ¿Está interesado?

Cada Nochebuena, en la familia Marco se celebra una tradición absurda y cruel. Adrián Marco, heredero de la mafia, debe sacar un papel al azar para decidir si puede casarse conmigo. Porque yo no soy una de ellos. Porque no nací en la mafia. Si no aparece mi nombre, no hay boda. Durante cuatro años, Adrián sacó cuatro veces. Cuatro veces en las que mi nombre nunca apareció. Yo creí que luchaba por mí. Que estaba dispuesto a perder su lugar como Don con tal de elegirme. Cada fracaso venía acompañado de un abrazo. —Está bien —me decía al oído—. Siempre habrá un próximo año. Y yo esperé. Esperé tanto que dolía. Este año me prometí algo distinto: si mi nombre no salía… lo cambiaría yo misma. Pero entonces escuché la verdad, detrás de la puerta de su estudio. —Don… siempre sacas el nombre de Irene. ¿Por qué finges que no? ¿Aún no puedes soltar a Sera? Adrián no se detuvo. No dudó. —Sera me necesita. Haz lo de siempre. Cambia su nombre por uno en blanco. Cuando entré, el papel con mi nombre seguía sobre la mesa. El vacío, en la basura. Lo tomé. Y fui yo quien hizo el intercambio. Vi mi nombre caer en el fondo del cesto. Adrián Marco… ya no quiero esperar. Ni casarme contigo. Esta vez, tu elección será real.

I am enjoy swimming, I don't know how long Marco has been gone. I didn't realize that I had reached the bottom of the waterfall because of the hot weather and the feeling of the cold water on the body feels really good that I even thought if I sat at the bottom of the waterfall to let the water pour over my almost naked body. I've only been there for a minute when I felt my brassiere come off my chest! It's because there's no lace and the brassiere I am wearing is in tube style. I was shocked by what happened and confused what to do first, how to cover my naked breasts. Should I jump off the water again to get my brassiere before the water washes it away, or should I stay here in the falls to get help from the water to cover my naked body. I looked around first to find Marco for help but he wasn't there! He is nowhere to be found! Shit! I immediately went down to chase after my brassiere when it was being swept away by the water. Now I am not sure if Marco not being here is a good or a bad news, but as I think of it realized that I would really faint if he sees me naked right now! Good thing I know how to swim so I got my brassiere at the right time. I immediately breathed a sigh of relief. "Great! Just in time!" I said to myself while holding my brassiere. Of course, my breasts are exposed, well I'm the only person here so it's okay anyway. "Wow, nice breasts. Round and big!" It was as if my soul left my body when I heard an unfamiliar voice from somewhere.

Die drei Richter-Brüder, für die ich einst das Wichtigste im Leben gewesen sein soll – ausgerechnet als ich unter einem bösartigen Hirntumor litt, waren sie nirgendwo zu finden. Die Operation könnte zu Gedächtnisverlust führen. Ich wollte sie nicht vergessen, also rief ich sie an und bat um Hilfe. Doch kaum war die Verbindung hergestellt, prasselten ihre Beschimpfungen auf mich ein: „Lena, heute ist Vanessas Geburtstag! Musst du uns ausgerechnet jetzt Ärger machen?“ Vor Schmerzen verlor ich das Bewusstsein. Als ich im Krankenhaus wieder aufwachte, sah ich eine Nachricht von Vanessa auf meinem Handy. „Lena, die Brüder haben mir drei Schutzamulette geschenkt, um mich zu beschützen!“ Auf dem Foto waren die drei Schutzamulette zu sehen – dieselben, für die ich sieben Stunden lang im strömenden Regen Schritt für Schritt niedergekniet war und jedes Mal meinen Kopf zur Erde gesenkt hatte, um sie für die Brüder zu erbitten. Endlich gab ich auf. Ich ging allein ins Ausland, ließ mich operieren und vergaß sie. Bis ich eines Tages drei fremde Männer vor meiner Haustür knien sah, die mich wie von Sinnen um Vergebung anflehten.

Pendant cinq ans, mon compagnon destiné, l'Alpha Kaël, et moi avons vécu 98 cérémonies de marquage. Et chaque fois, ses crocs s'arrêtaient juste avant de m'atteindre le cou. Tout ça parce que l'Oméga qu'il disait considérer « comme une sœur » s'évanouissait toujours au moment parfaitement choisi. Lors de la 99ᵉ cérémonie, cette Oméga s'est de nouveau « blessée ». « Je te jure que je terminerai le marquage la prochaine fois », a dit Kaël en soulevant l'autre louve dans ses bras, sans même me jeter un regard. J'ai alors brûlé la robe de Luna que j'avais portée 99 fois, puis j'ai remis ma robe royale de princesse du Royaume d'Ombrelune. Ensuite, j'ai brisé le lien du destin et je suis partie sans me retourner. Ce n'est qu'au moment où Kaël a été frappé par une douleur brûlante et qu'il m'a suppliée de revenir que le Chaman lui a dit froidement : « Elle est une vraie princesse. Et toi, tu n'as jamais été digne d'elle. »