Pirate Cat

I've been married to Salvatore Falcone for seven years. He's a mafia Don who drills raw terror into everyone's minds. While I'm the Donna whom he has announced to the world, in truth, I'm just a mistress who serves as his human shield that can warm his bed on the side. Salvatore has betrayed me countless times over the past seven years. The first betrayal occurred when he took my ring off on our first wedding anniversary and gave it to one of the escorts in the clubhouse on a whim. The second betrayal occurred when I collapsed in the kitchen out of exhaustion. Instead of saving me, Salvatore blamed me for not preparing the hangover tonic for him in time, so he had someone dump iced water onto me to wake me up. The third betrayal occurred when I suffered from massive bleeding when I was five months pregnant. When I begged Salvatore to go to the hospital with me, he told me that he was keeping Valentina Caruso, his childhood sweetheart, company while her cat was getting fixed. For 2500 days, I swallowed all of my grievances, agony, and tears. Last night, at the banquet of our seventh wedding anniversary, Salvatore had taken Valentina's hand and sat her down on the Donna's throne that was meant to be mine. At that moment, everyone looked forward to seeing me humiliate myself. This was the 101st time he betrayed me. After the banquet was over, Salvatore didn't even bother looking me in the eye. He just said icily, "Don't forget that you're only a mistress to me despite our marriage." At the crack of dawn, Salvatore wakes up with a hangover. He tosses his soiled shirt at me out of habit. "Wash this shirt immediately. I'm going to wear it tonight." As I gaze at him, I caress my belly, which is slightly swollen. "Sorry, Mr. Falcone. This is no longer my duty." Salvatore most likely has forgotten that we've signed a contract when we first got married. The clause states that we will get divorced seven years later. Today is the third day before our contract comes to an end. I toss the marriage certificate and the pregnancy report into the shredder on the spot. In three days, my unborn baby and I will disappear from Salvatore's world permanently. This time, I will never look back.

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

I took a shortcut through the alley and watched Dante Marchetti put a bullet in a man like it was nothing. He saw my face. That was the end of my normal life. Within an hour I was in the back of his car being driven to an estate I had never seen before with gates that locked from the outside and a wardrobe full of clothes in my exact size waiting like someone had known I was coming before I did. He told me I wasn't a prisoner but a guest. He said people who wanted to find me were considerably worse than him and that his walls were the only thing standing between me and a conversation I wouldn't survive. Maybe he was right. The problem is the longer I stayed the harder it became to remember which one was true. Because the man who caught me in that alley wasn't the only version of him. There was another one that nobody else seemed to get to see. The one who stood alone in his dead mother's library looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. The one who had my cat brought to the estate because he heard me crying through a closed door and didn't know what else to do about it. The one who almost smiled when I threw a glass at his head. That version of him was the one I couldn't stop thinking about. I came here as a witness. I stayed as something else entirely. Somewhere between the locked doors, the candlelit dinners and the secrets we started sharing in the dark I stopped wanting to leave. The question was whether a woman like me could survive loving a man like him. I was about to find out.

"Oh, dear officer, would you like to play a game?" The Mafia asked, twirling a knife in his hands. "Game? The only game I know it's sending you to jail," Wade took out the handcuffs and wanted to cuff his hands. Suddenly before Wade knew it, he was spun around and pushed against the wall. Shit! Did this bastard just handcuffed him?! "Hey! How dare you -" "Handcuffed an officer?" The man laughed wickedly. Wade's face paled and he froze. Fuck! This bastard tricked him! "Officer," the man dragged his finger across Wade's lips seductively, "How dare you enter my territory without my permission?" "Y-you," Wade's body shook with rage. Who was this man?! His fighting skills were obviously better than his, yet he had been pretending all along! "You must be curious about me," His fingers caressed the curve in Wade's back, sending a shiver down his spine. What happens when duty clashes with an irresistible attraction to a dangerous enemy? Newly appointed police chief Wade Harrington is on a relentless mission to cleanse the city of crime. As he delves into a perplexing missing person case, he stumbles into the lair of the world's most notorious criminal, the enigmatic Mafia King, Vincenzo Luciano. Vincenzo is a master of getting under Wade's skin, challenging him at every turn, and haunting his dreams. As their confrontations intensify, the lines between duty and desire blur, igniting a fiery passion neither can deny. Destined to be enemies, like oil and water, Wade and Vincenzo are inexplicably drawn to each other. Their encounters spark a dangerous game of cat and mouse, where Wade's attempts to capture Vincenzo only lead him deeper into the Mafia King's seductive grasp. Will Wade uphold his duty, or will he succumb to the magnetic pull of his greatest adversary?

"Do you miss me Bella...mia" She could recognize that voice even in her sleep. She stood frozen looking at him with wide eyes. "W..what.." she tried speaking but immediately closed her mouth breathing hard. She glared at him HARD while a handsome smirk appeared on his face. "What the hell are you doing in my house?!" she said,his eyes moving across her body especially on her exposed legs. He suddenly stood on his feet and she moved back, his presence affecting her. "What happened to your elbow" he asked. That was actually the first thing he noticed when she stepped out of the bathroom with a red towel wrapped around her tiny frame. "Why should I tell you that. I owe you no explanation" She said feeling uncomfortable under his scrutinized gaze. He took three long strides towards her before pinning her to the wall, his hot breath fanning her neck. Lexi could feel her heart pounding in her chest as her eyes met his ocean blue eyes. She hates to deny it but he grew much more handsome than before. A slow smirk appeared on his lips as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Lexi shook, trying to push him off but he stood gallantly like a statue, his height towering above her. " Let me ..go.. now" her voice hoarse. " I hate repeating myself Lexi. You might wanna start talking" Lexi Thompson, a retired cop, is trapped in a toxic game of cat and mouse with Antonio Saint Claire, a ruthless mafia kingpin. Lexi Thompson thought she'd escaped Antonio Saint Claire's toxic grasp but his obsession runs deep. Now she must play by his rules to preserve her sanity. Will she find a way to break free, or will their twisted love consume them both ?.

“You’ve come to kill me detective?” He whispered against her skin as he gently grasped her arm and turned her to him. Jude swallowed a gulp and looked up at him. His eyes were a cobalt shade of blue behind the mask, daring, cold and terrifying. “And you’ve come to me to be killed?” She replied in a hushed tone, gathering a lot of nerve and taking a step closer to him. Detective Jude Laurent should arrest Cassien, the deadly Maestro who now controls The Black Rose syndicate. Instead, she finds herself drawn into a dangerous game of cat and mouse, risking everything to uncover the truth about the organization that has haunted her since childhood. The same organization she believes holds the answers to her parents’ death in what everyone called a tragic house fire. But Jude has no idea she’s been walking straight into a trap years in the making. The real mastermind behind The Black Rose has been watching her every move, orchestrating her pain from the shadows. Someone who shaped her into the perfect weapon for revenge. And they’ve been waiting for this moment since the night her world burned. Now, as Jude hunts the man who’s becoming her obsession, and Cassien finds himself equally captivated by the detective who should be his enemy, neither realizes they’re both pawns in a much deadlier game. Because the person who destroyed Jude’s world isn’t the criminal she’s chasing. It’s someone far closer than she could ever imagine. And their final move is about to destroy everything she’s ever believed about her past, her purpose, and the man she can’t stop wanting. Some obsessions are worth dying for. Others are designed to kill you.

Fuck, look at you,” he growled, backing her against the desk, voice low and rough. “Sitting in my class every day with that innocent little smile while your pussy’s soaked for your brother’s best friend.” She whimpered as his hand slid up her thigh, pushing her skirt higher. “Tell me, baby,” he rasped against her ear, teeth grazing her pulse, “how many times have you touched yourself thinking about your professor bending you over this desk and ruining you?” Her breath hitched. “Too many…” He chuckled darkly, fingers teasing the edge of her panties. “Good girl. Because tonight I’m going to fuck you so deep you’ll still feel me when you’re sitting in my lecture tomorrow, trying not to moan my name in front of everyone.” --- He teaches by day… and rules the road by night. Fleeing New Orleans was supposed to be Nirvana Hale’s fresh start. She was finally going to meet Adrian Cross; her brother’s best friend and the voice that had comforted her through her darkest nights. But the man waiting for her in New York is a stranger. He’s the lethal enforcer of a notorious motorcycle club, a man who treats her like a burden to be locked away. Just as Nirvana begins to hate the man she once adored, the world shifts again. On her first day at Rodrigo University, she walks into her lecture hall to find Adrian standing at the podium. In a crisp suit and glasses, Professor Cross is composed, brilliant, and completely off-limits. Now, Nirvana is trapped in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. By day, he's the teacher who refuses to look her in the eye. By night, he’s the biker who makes her pulse race.

My sister-in-law sent me a photo of her kissing my husband on the beach. Just a few minutes later, she deleted the photo and sent me a text saying, “Oops, sent to the wrong person. Lol.” I knew it was deliberate. It was never a mistake. She wanted me to see how happy my husband was with her. Clara was never my sister-in-law. Three years ago, my husband had lied about her, claiming she was his younger sister, and I believed him. But after five years of marriage, I discovered—far too late—that Clara was never his sister. She was his mistress, his childhood lover, the woman he had been sleeping with under the same roof as me while making me serve her as if she were truly my sister-in-law. And now what? He had lied again… said he was going on a business trip. Yet Clara had just sent me a picture—a cute, sickening picture—of my husband happily kissing the very woman he had once claimed was his younger sister. The photo carried a timestamp showing the exact time and location. It was real. There was no denying it. They were in Hawaii, on a beach, laughing, kissing, and having the time of their lives… while he had made me believe he was away on business. Without saying a word, I saved the picture and posted it straight to Instagram, captioning it: "Congratulations to my sister-in-law… on finally becoming the official wife.” Then I turned off my phone and went to bed. The next morning, after having breakfast with my cat, Lulu, and taking the warmest bath ever, I turned my phone back on—and froze. Over 200 missed calls were waiting for me. Notifications exploded across my phone. And it didn’t stop there—the number of unattended messages kept climbing past 250.