Why The Mafia Is Not An Aesthetic Novels & Stories

What do you do when you're supposed to be boyfriend doesn't have the time for you leaving you hanging and dateless all the time. Who do you call? The backup boyfriend. In comes your on-the-go best friend who always acts as the backup boyfriend. It's easier to pretend since you have feelings for him before. But what will happen when fate plays with you, and your backup boyfriend falls in love with you, and wants nothing but to be your real boyfriend? And to add to the complications, your backup boyfriend/best friend is your boyfriend's boss who is keeping a secret identity. Who will you choose, the boyfriend whom you love but doesn't have the time for you, or the backup boyfriend w

DARK ROMANCE!My back hit the wall, I was trembling in fear because of his close proximity. He was so angry that his veins were popping out from his neck, his jaw was clenched. I didn't dare to look at his eyes."Look at me!" He roared.I didn't muster the courage to look at his evil eyes so, I kept my head low, squeezing myself in to the wall. His hot and raged breath was fanning my face. In an instance he moved closer flushing his body against mine. A whimper left my mouth and I put my hands on his chest to create some distance but he didn't even budge."M-mov-e away." She stuttered badly.The next moment he punched the wall so hard just right next to my head, and I close my eyes in fear as new

Reena’s life was simple… until one accident changed everything. A violent crash, a journey through darkness, and when she opens her eyes— Reena finds herself inside the novel she was reading all night. The novel’s name was— “The Dirty Mafia.” But the biggest truth is— She is not the heroine. She is not even a minor character. Reena has become the villainess. A villainess whose death is written in the most brutal way— and that death belongs to the hands of the mafia king, a man with no mercy in his heart. Now Reena knows everything. She knows the ending that awaits her. Betrayal. Blood. And a death that spares no one. The story is no longer fiction— It has become her realit

She married the devil. Then she divorced him. Now she carries his child. All Isabella Lorenzo wanted was to protect her family, and she thought marrying the ruthless and feared Luca Moretti… heir to the Moretti crime empire would be enough, but she was wrong. Instead of protection, her father was brutally executed and her heart left shattered in a million pieces. Two years later, she has managed to move on from the past and rebuild her life in the shadows. Every feeling of emotion was buried in her past, but they soon reignite after a reckless night with a masked stranger… a stranger that happens to be Luca Moretti. Now she’s pregnant, and Luca will do anything to get her back. But forgi

"I can't do this no more. I'm leaving you, Rupert Peter Myrie," Tasha said, her heart thudding in her chest. He turned, locking his eyes with hers, but she didn't flinch. Rupert snorted softly, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he approached, each breath husky, each movement heavy until he stood just an inch away. "Tee, you must be really angry for you to be calling me by my full name." "Stick to the point," she said, turning her face from his intimidating gaze. "I want to end things with you." Her voice trembled, but she forced the words out. He closed the space between them. "You want to end things with me?" His voice dropped. "Who teaching you this 'strong woman' crap?" He wrapped

DARK ROMANCE “Don’t please,” she sobbed, shaking badly. The fear of her situation was slowly sinking in. “Please let me go, I want to go home.” She cried. He smirked and cupped her face. She immediately stiffened upon his touch and stared into his Smokey grey eyes. “You are home, tara, this is your home now, by my side.” He spoke firmly. She saw the determination in his eyes and her eyes widened with shock. “No!” she shrieked and tried to push him away but he didn’t budge. Before she could retaliate, he had caught her wrists in a vice-like grip with one hand and locked them down while with the other hand, he firmly griped the back of her neck, his fingers digging into her scalp, making her w

A single misstep, and the consequences were severe. I am Moxie Guerra, known to all who know me as a devil with the face of an angel. At the age of seventeen, I am a woman with high standards in every aspect of life. I insist on the best food, the most luxurious clothing, and when it comes to men, they must be extraordinarily wealthy, attractive, and well-known. Born to my father's mistress, who passed away after my birth, I am scorned by my father's second family. As the daughter of a mafia boss, I was brought up in a perilous environment. No one perceived me as patient or kind. Instead, I was feared, much like my father, which was my Achilles' heel. However, when I discovered t

Sequel to Shattered Heart: My Ex-Husband Wants Me Back. Abused by her only drunken father, isolated by her many schoolmates and teachers, Rebecca's life could not have gotten any worse. Not when she was already struggling with her studies, and make whatever she could in her part-time jobs. Or so she thought, when she found out her father owed much money from a mafia group, and offered to sell herself away to pay it off. All this time, she had been honoring her mother's wish to not leave her father alone, and this was what she got in return? To be sold off to some horrible men who will undoubtedly have their way with her?! "Since you offered yourself to this, you need to take responsibi

"Fuck!," she moans as my finger slides fully inside her, her body responding instantly. "More," Elisia demands, breathless. "Really?" I taunt her. "Beg. You know how this works, Elisia. I'm in control, not you." "I'm not begging you," she retorts, though her voice wavers. Without hesitation, I pull my finger out, leaving her aching for more. I begin teasing her, running my finger along her slit, knowing she'll eventually break. "I'm going to kill you," she growls. "Oh, really?" I mock, pulling my hand away entirely. She sighs, realizing I'm serious. "Theo, please," she whispers softly. "Not good enough," I say, sucking on her neck, leaving my marks. "Please, Theo, touch me," s

One day, shortly after I had experienced a miscarriage, Alan brought me a bowl of chicken soup—and a divorce agreement. "Sophia's pregnant," he had said. "So let's just leave each other like mature adults do." Chicken soup had never tasted so bitter in my life. I knew Sophia Mason—he had sponsored her education before. She was also the one who caused my miscarriage. I did not cry. I did not throw a fit. I just asked why. He looked relieved. Then, he looked at me blankly. "The truth is I can't stand you over these seven years. Every time we lie together on our bed, I just can't help but be disgusted by what your body has gone through. "I know you suffered that because of me. But I c