Author Natalya

Liam O'Grady is a powerful loan shark and realtor, a man mixed in crime and an underground fighter, a King. Between them, his half-brother Finn St Just and he run the city of Hunter's Wood, with the strength of their muscle and money power. The brothers are Dominants and they enjoy subjugating the women they take. And they have the habit of sharing a woman. But the jaded Liam knows that something is missing. Like a breath of fresh air, innocent young Bianca Cruz turns up at their doorstep, asking for help. The nineteen-year-old is trying to get her family free of the clutches of the evil Dean Nelson, who was also responsible for the death of her father. Liam agrees to help her, for he is intrigued by the young woman who is untouched and other-worldly, an innocent who appeals to his jaded self. He along with his brother propose a deal with the desperate young woman. They will help her; they will even restore her father's beloved bakery and hand it over to her. But the price is this: She will be their willing submissive for a year. & Does she cave in and accept their terms? And what will happen during this year to the girl who has no experience of men? Worse, what will happen to her at the end of the year?

"You f*cking WH*RE!" roared Gaston St. Claire, my husband. Bringing his face closer to my terrified one, he snarled, in a lower voice filled with anguish and fury, "So it was true, eh? You were sneaking behind my back, spreading your legs and spreading your legs for other men, huh?' I shook my head, trying to focus, trying to plead, the shock spreading through me slowly. What was he talking about? I had no idea how I had gotten there-to that seedy-looking room-or how I had ended up beneath Stan Cummingham, naked and semi-conscious. Other men? What did he mean? Why didn't he believe me? April and Gaston St. Claire, the Mafia Don, have been wed and blessed with eight children. Their lives have had their fair share of ups and downs. But there's worse awaiting poor April! Bree Hampston, Gaston St. Claire's long-lost sister, turns up! She turns the Mafia Don against his faithful wife... Does she succeed? Or does April finally make a stand?

Damien Lindberg, the heir to the Lindberg Coven of Warlocks, is stunned to discover that he has fathered a son from a one-night stand, of which he has no recollection. His woman turns out to be young Miranda O'Neill, who is fierce and furious when he turns up in her life, daring to claim her and his son. She is hurt and bitter, for she had searched for him after the exquisite night of love they had shared. And while the two lovers try to fight not only their passions, for there is a deep, unpredictable sexual chemistry between them, they also have to face other threats, sinister and menacing in nature, from within the Coven, from the world of Dragons, and from the murky world of jealous rivals, all of which lurk outside the periphery of their volatile passion, which holds them anchored to each other. Will they finally be with each other and find true love? Or will the forces that want to keep the star-crossed lovers apart, finally win?

I moved to kiss him and he captured my mouth, his tongue probing me as I moved blindly, his fingers teasing me. "Please,' I whispered quivering with need and then I moved as he slid his thick fingers in and out of me, his mouth on mine. Helpless, I came, a mass of nerves and wetness as he carried me to the heights, his fingers playing with me, teasing me. I threw my head back, sobbed and screamed his name as I felt myself shatter into a thousand pieces of myself. With a coarse expletive, sounding like a man who had reached his limit, he raised me slightly and shifted, positioning himself and rammed into me fiercely. I moaned at the suddenness, the force of his thrusts as he rode me mercilessly. Thank goodness I was on the pill now, I thought wildly as he pounded me relentlessly and I cried as I came again. And again. Loving him. Branded by him... * This book is the last of the Mafia Don trilogy but it can be read as a standalone as well. April and Gaston love each other although he is almost twenty years older. Besides steamy, erotic encounters, their marriage is also filled with ups and downs, including two out-of-wedlock children, a kidnapping, killings, and suspected affairs. In this book, Gaston's illegitimate son enters the picture and disrupts their lives yet again. Will these star-crossed lovers survive? or will they separate or worse, will April die?

Gaston St.Claire, the Mafia Don from the previous book is out to get his old enemy, Dmitri. Dmitri has vowed to destroy his family, particularly the woman he loves, his wife April He embarks on a way to kill th mn but in the process, his wife misunderstands him. He turns to his old flame, a woman who is now a noted porn star . April is torn between her love for her husband and he bewilderment at his actions. Meanwhile, Schwartz meets Sophia, whose sister was lured into the porn movie business and has disappeared. The two of them are attracted to each other but Sophia fights the attraction. How things spin out of control involving Gaston and April, Schwartz and Sophia forms the story line.

Melissa is a widow; she is just 22 years old with a two year old son. Her lover , who she had not married, dies of a heart attack. His ex-wife turns up with her fiancé, and throws Melissa out, penniless. The fiancé, Trsitan Lord, is a ruthless advocate, a millionaire as he fights the cases for the Mafia mob. He does not care for anyone's feelings. When he meets Melissa, he feels a desire to dominate her, a strange attraction towards her. Although she cannot understand the way she feels towards him, Melissa does not respond to his overtures. This makes him angry. Melissa's mother dies, her father is paralyzed. He has no one except Melissa. Desperate, with a child and her helpless father to look after,, she takes up a job as a dancer at a topless bar run by the Mob. Tristan sees her there and tries to seduce her in his brutal manner. He grabbed her am, pinning her to the wall, his eyes gleaming like hot coals as he growled, 'You slut...so you can parade your naked body before the men in that room,' He jerked her to him, forcing her to feel his hard erectness that was pressing against her soft belly. "But you play the innocent with me, eh?' She pushed against him, futilely, aware that she was getting turned on strangely enough by this large man's cruel words and his punishing hold on her. His presence, his male musky aroma filled her head. "Take your hands off me,' she hissed, but for answer, he lowered his head and brought his hard mouth on her soft moist lips, displaying a hunger that seemed to burn both of them as he ravaged her mouth, his body holding her trapped...

'I had not expected to breed you, little girl.' He said, his voice emotionless but his eyes were hot with lust,' You were just a plaything to be used till I tired of you, But there was no way I would let any child of mine grow up as a bastard.' My breath caught in my throat at the sheer cruelty, the heartlessness of his words. Was that all I had been to him? The young innocent woman and the older, heartless Mafia Boss who cannot have enough of her. A story of desire, a story of lust Above all a story of LOVE.

For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne. But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.” My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love. He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter. They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."

I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair. They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves. Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment. But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger. In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all.

I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder. It was Clayton. The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party. "Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up. Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock. "Ivy? You're... we buried you." They hadn't buried me. They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability. Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger. He accused me of faking my death for attention. He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain. He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize. "You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation." But he made a fatal mistake. He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees. He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it. Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist. Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us. "Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand." I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face. I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself. I came back to bury them.

"Once she's finally dead, I want you to take me - right there, in that outlaw President's own bed... promise me, Blaze." Lying in a freezing pool of my own blood, I watched the man I had loved for three years flirt shamelessly with my cousin. Meanwhile, my so-called "best friend" greedily stripped the wedding ring off my bleeding finger. "Take her. Have your fun with her, just don't let that pretty face go to waste," the scumbag sneered, kicking me aside. As a group of tattooed thugs approached with sickening, lustful grins, I was swallowed by absolute, shivering despair. Just as I prepared to bite my own tongue to end it all-a deafening engine roar shattered the night. My husband, the ruthless MC President Axel, the "monster" I had spent my life trying to escape, charged into the hellfire covered in blood. He used his massive frame to shield me from every bullet. With his dying breath, his normally cold eyes held nothing but desperate, humble tenderness. "Don't be afraid... I love you..." When I opened my eyes, I was reborn a year before our fatal fallout. To completely sever ties with the cheating scumbag, I secretly liquidated all my designer assets, transferring the funds into an untraceable offshore account. But the financial report was handed straight to Axel. He forcefully cornered me against the wall, his eyes swirling with a devastating mix of soul-crushing heartbreak and violent obsession as he ruthlessly bit my lip. "Chloe, even if you run to the ends of the earth, I will drag you back in chains!" he growled, his voice hoarse and his eyes red. "But from tonight on... until I see your lover's corpse with my own eyes, don't you ever try to touch me again." I wrapped my arms tightly around his solid waist from behind, my small hands slipping under his half-open leather jacket to trace the hard lines of his tense abs. Feeling his massive body instantly freeze into stone, I stood on my toes and whispered breathily against his ear: "Okay. But before you kill him... hubby, don't you want to come back to bed and fulfill your duties as my husband first?"

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up. As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress. The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me. The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one. With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered. I chose the one man they never expected. I chose his father, the Don himself.

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

Three days before the wedding. I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman. Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress. The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem. It didn't spell Elena. It read Sofia. He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name. Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife. He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance. I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared. "The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?" "Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport." "Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys." I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday. He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead.

I hid my identity as the heiress of a top-tier wealthy family just to build a normal, quiet life with my fiancé, Jefferey. We had just picked out our dream villa, but a sudden bank notification shattered my illusion. The entire $7.8 million from our joint trust fund had been wired to a woman named Jessie Barr. When I hacked into his synced tablet, the truth hit me like a truck. Jessie wasn't just a stranger; she was his secret lover. They even had a four-year-old son who shared Jefferey's exact eyes. "The money is in your account. Our future is secure now. I'll leave her soon." Reading his messages to her, I realized my three years of devotion were nothing but a long con. I was just the final "project" he needed to fund his real family. He used my resources, my connections, and my money to build a life in the shadows with his true love, treating me like a naive piggy bank he could discard at any moment. I had given up my absolute power for a man who fed me nothing but lies. But Jefferey forgot one crucial detail. I wasn't just some helpless woman he could ruin. I calmly closed my laptop and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years. "Mom, I was wrong. I'm ready to accept the Romero family's marriage alliance." It was time to gut his company and take everything he owned.

My husband swallowed a ten-year prison sentence to save me from my abusive stepfather. When he got out, he built a mafia empire and made me his Queen. But last night, his encrypted tablet lit up with an ultrasound photo and a text from another woman. "Our little secret is growing." The mistress soon called to mock me. She was pregnant, while I had been barren for four years. When I confronted my husband, he didn't apologize. Instead, he assigned heavily armed guards to protect her and burned my divorce papers with his cigar. "The only exit from this Family is death," he warned. The nightmare deepened when I uncovered her true identity. The mistress was my half-sister, and her mastermind was the mother who had abandoned me at six. My husband knew. He even whispered our sacred vow to her-"I will shield you from the blood"-the exact words he used when I lost our child on a freezing concrete floor for his syndicate. I took bullets for him. I waited a decade outside those prison gates. Yet he used my absolute loyalty to lock me in a cage, handing my crown to the family that threw me to the wolves. He thought I was just a helpless wife, entirely dependent on his mercy. He didn't know I was Vanguard, the shadow billionaire controlling the very lifelines of his empire. I calmly picked up my phone and called my head operative. "Liquidate his supply chains. Let's see whose empire turns to ash first."