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.

I didn't mean to call my boss. I definitely didn't mean to leave a seven-minute voicemail of dirty secrets about him. Working for Ruslan Oryolov is the job from hell. The man is impossible-demanding, arrogant, and way too gorgeous for his own good. After eighteen months of fetching his coffee and swallowing my pride, all I wanted was one night of stress relief. But the billionaire CEO of Bane Corporation isn't just a boss from hell. He's the head of the Oryolov Bratva-and now that he's heard every secret I never meant to share, he's decided to claim me. His contract. His rules. His protection for my three orphaned nieces and nephews-the only reason I'm signing my life away to a man I should fear. He owns my signature. He owns my safety. Now he wants my soul.

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."

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 the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.

"You've been in denial for so long, Addison." His voice was husky and heavy with lust. "Do you really want me to stop?" I could not bring myself to say no. My best friend's stepdad was like the devil, making me find so much pleasure in sin. "You can't even say no," he chuckled, letting go of my hand finally. They moved to my face and he stared into my eyes, while his other hand still worked wonders between my legs. "Don't make me do this," I finally said, moaning the words out. "Please." "Tell me to stop one more time and I will," he mumbled. "Please, st-" I didn't complete my words because he captured my lips with his. *+*+*+*+*+*+* Addison Rodriguez never expected to feel any sexual tension or fall in love with her best friend's stepdad. As she surrenders to the sexual tension, her loyalty to her best friend wavers, especially when she finds out that he is secretly a Mafia Lord trying to hide in plain sight and that her best friend's life is in danger, her loyalty is tested even further. Would she reveal his secret to protect her best friend, or keep it to protect her love?

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.

For three months, I thought I was the only woman who knew Fabiano’s soul. Then he saw my face — and decided I was worth less than the check he slid across the table. But it was all a clerical error. When we finally met and he saw my plain face, he realized I wasn't the glamorous mafia princess he thought he was talking to. He immediately severed our connection and forced me to help him court her instead, promising a blank check to save my dying grandmother from loan sharks in return. I swallowed my pride and did everything he asked. When my grandmother suddenly needed immediate brain surgery to survive the night, I crashed his VIP party to cash in his promise. Fabiano wrote the check, but his new princess snatched it, poured red wine all over the paper, and threw it in the trash. "You are a jealous, pathetic leech. You are nothing," she spat, laughing in my face. I stood there with my hand frozen in the empty air, looking at Fabiano. The man who once swore he would burn down the city for me just sat there on the leather sofa, watching in complete silence as my grandmother's only lifeline was destroyed. The foolish warmth I carried for him instantly died. I turned around, walked out into the freezing rain, and got into the armored SUV of his biggest rival. This time, I wouldn't beg for scraps; I was going to build my own empire.

My sister abandoned her newborn baby at a hospital and fled the country. The father was Dante, the absolute sovereign of the city's underworld. My mother frantically ordered me to hide the child to save our skins. But I refused to cower. I took the baby straight to the Mafia Don's fortress and demanded he take responsibility. For the first critical days of the baby's life, I was the only one there. I paced my rundown apartment with a sick infant, spending my last savings, while my sister was living it up in Vancouver with her offshore money. But months later, when Dante officially claimed the boy and placed us under his ultimate protection, my sister and mother suddenly came back. They put on a pathetic weeping act in Dante's office. "I just want my son back. I was just so scared," my sister sobbed, demanding custody of the Mafia heir. My own mother had actually helped her pack, advising her to dump the baby on me so she could escape. Now, seeing Dante's limitless wealth, they wanted to reap the rewards. They treated me like a disposable pawn, expecting me to quietly hand over the child I had saved. How could my own blood be so shamelessly greedy? But they underestimated me, and they underestimated the Don. Looking at the ruthless Mafia boss, I calmly exposed their treason, forcing his final judgment. This time, I was claiming my place.

I carried the first word I had spoken in ten years like a sacred offering, ready to surprise the man who had saved my life. But through the crack in the study door, I heard Josiah tell his Underboss that I was nothing but a noose around his neck. "Grace is a burden," he said, his voice cold. "I can't become Don while babysitting a mute ghost. Lexi brings power. Grace brings nothing but silence." He chose to marry the Mafia Princess for her father's trade routes, dismissing me as wreckage. But the true betrayal didn't happen in that office. It happened in the woods during an ambush. With bullets flying and the mud sliding beneath us into a ravine, Josiah had to make a choice. I was injured, trapped at the bottom. Lexi was screaming on the ridge. He looked at me, mouthed "I'm sorry," and turned his back. He hauled Lexi to safety to secure his alliance. He left me to die alone in the freezing mud. I lay there in the dark, realizing the man who swore a blood oath to protect me had traded my life for a political seat. He thought the silence would finally swallow me whole. He was wrong. I crawled out of that grave and vanished from his world completely. Three years later, I returned to the city, not as his broken ward, but as a world-renowned artist. When Josiah showed up at my gallery, looking shattered and begging for forgiveness, I didn't sign. I looked him dead in the eye and spoke. "The girl who loved you died in that ravine, Josiah."

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.