MXian Writes

He is the son of a mafia boss. She is someone he never expected to meet and fall for, but she complicates his life when her existence becomes a threat to his family's empire. . . . 24-year-old receptionist and college dropout Seraphine "Sephie" Azur meets Dominico Tomassini on her boss' superyacht. Dominico is her secret crush, the heir of an Italian banker and real estate mogul. During a party thrown by the Tomassinis, a violent incident thrusts Seraphine into his family's web of secrets. When Dominico is forced to take Seraphine to Florence to keep an eye on her, he ensures her safety and lends her money while they live together as part of a clandestine agreement. After long, painful months of pining for his love, Seraphine abandons her end of the deal, desperate to find freedom and true love. Will she escape the Tomassini heir's tenacious grip and get her own life back? Or will her stubborn feelings for Dominico keep her trapped in his messy, dangerous life? [Crime / Romance]

• This story is Book III of The Heir's Secrets [Mafia Games 1] • Ready to take on the world of medicine, Mykaela is forced to confront the secrets of her past while fearing the possibility of losing her best friend Miles, the heir to a wealthy and secretive Italian vampire clan. To keep Mykaela safe, Miles Falco must choose his future and risk it all with the Falcos or find a one-way ticket out of the perilous mafia life he's always hated. Lorenzio Tomassini is a shrewd, wealthy businessman with ties to the Italian mafia. After a death in their clan, he pursues a quiet life in America as his brother faces prison time for orchestrating heinous crimes in Italy. When a public health crisis hits major cities, Mykaela and Lorenzio struggle with the demands of their careers as the wrath of the Italian and Russian mob lurks in the shadows. Will their families' ongoing turf war tear them apart? Or will their love turn into nothing but a marriage of convenience? × GENRES: Contemporary Romance / Mafia / Vampire × MATURE readers only! ◆ cover design: mxian [DISCLAIMER: The original images on the cover are not mine.]

• BILLIONAIRE / ROMANCE / MAFIA • 18+ ONLY • They say "Home is where the heart is". Eilyn Han, heiress to a billionaire's empire, would beg to differ. Her artistic, free-spirited nature wouldn't let her fall prey to the allure of corporate greed. But she is still a Han. And no matter what, family comes first. Unfortunate news about her brother forces Eilyn back to Manila. When Axell—her mysterious new escort—decides to take over, his choices thrust her into a perilous web of vengeful mobsters and clan secrets. • A bodyguard by profession, Axell seeks new opportunities as he rebuilds his life in Manila after a messy past. To support his family, he cuts a deal with Mr. Han, a billionaire—a deal that threatens Axell's life and could endanger his family in Britain. When Axell meets the billionaire's daughter for the first time, fate tests their strengths and entwines their paths with a group of thugs out for blood. Will Axell keep her safe? Or will his dark secrets lead to their doom?

After moving back to New York to pursue her medical degree, Mykaela navigates her way through a dangerous web of lies and family secrets while contemplating a long-distance relationship with Miles, her best friend. Maximiliano “Miles” Falco, an artist turned corporate drone, wants a quiet life away from his family of big-time criminals planning to reign all of Italy. He wants the best for Mykaela—but that means pushing her away so he can deal with his own demons and envious mobsters awaiting his family's downfall. Enzo Tomassini is a businessman whose family of billionaires has teamed up with the Falcos to dominate organized crime in Europe. On the verge of death, he meets Mykaela who changes his perspective on where his life is headed, burdening him with a moral dilemma that leaves him questioning his family's choices. Will their chosen paths grant the desires of their hearts? • Genres: Contemporary Romance, Billionaire, Crime, LGBTQIA+ • Rating: 18+ • This story is the sequel to The Heir's Secrets [Mafia Games XI] •

After moving to Italy, Mykaela pursues a modeling career with Miles Falco's help and a newfound sense of normalcy. All seems well and routine until unforeseen circumstances ruin the illusion and force her back to New York. Miles Falco, an artist enjoying the Italian countryside, must choose between the simple life he loves and being successor to a clan of influential businessmen contending for power in all of Europe. Can he escape his predetermined fate? A life of deceit, chaos, and deadly encounters with the mafia? ◆ PG-15 ◆ Genres: Mafia, Romance, Crime, Mystery ◆ cover design: mxian

Jessiah is a make-up artist aspiring to break into the modeling and beauty industry. She moves to LA when she lands a job at one of the biggest production companies in Hollywood. On her first week on the job, she meets Jenson Ross, a big-deal actor and director with a dark secret only a privileged few know about. × Genres: Contemporary Romance, Werewolf, Crime, Drama × Rating: PG-15 EXCERPT: EXCERPT from BOOK I _ _ _ "Dollface," he murmured with a little smirk. Now his hand gripped her forearm.  He snickered when she only kept staring, then pulled her closer to hug her. "You're like an antidepressant, in human form." The utter surprise paused her breathing.  She couldn't pull away.  Her heartbeat sped up when he hugged her tighter. His warm face pressed onto the side of her neck, his hand lightly squeezing her hip. His beard scraped her skin, his thighs touched hers, and she felt like he was kissing her neck.  Shit. He was no longer thinking straight.  Perhaps unaware of the consequences of his actions. It was moments like this that worsened her intense attraction to him.   The flirty jokes, the easy conversations, the small smiles, his furtive glances, and his unusually sweet gestures lately just convinced her she was definitely in deep trouble. Amid her loud thoughts, he pulled her closer whenever she pulled away. Her breathing grew shallow while she stared into his eyes. "Dammit," he sighed while he gripped her arms.  Then his thumb traced the curve of her neck and shoulder, his touch both gentle and eager.  "Why are you always so f-cking beautiful?"  "Joss—" "What?" he muttered while stroking her cheek. He wasn't acting drunk or just playing with her.  Otherwise he wouldn't let it get this far. "You want me to stop?" _

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 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 wife of Dante Cavalli, the most ruthless mafia Don in the country. But today, his Underboss slid mandatory annulment papers across my hospital bed, ordering me to dissolve our marriage. In my past life, I dropped to my knees and begged them not to abandon me. I spent the next thirty years locked in Dante's massive penthouse, waiting for a man who bathed the streets in blood but never gave me a single drop of warmth. My aristocratic mother-in-law stripped me of every cent, leaving me completely isolated. I foolishly threw away a brilliant surgical career to be a submissive, obedient mafia wife. In the end, Dante never came to see me, and I died entirely alone in that massive, empty bed. Until my last breath, my chest was suffocated by a lifetime of regrets. I couldn't understand why I had sacrificed my freedom and my scalpels for a man who would only feel a twisted guilt decades after I was already a cold corpse. Opening my eyes again, Fate had dragged me back to the exact day my nightmare truly began. Matteo stood at the foot of my bed, clearly expecting my usual pathetic tears. "Take your time to think about it." This time, I didn't cry or beg for my life. I just picked up the fountain pen, signed my name, and walked out to reclaim the scalpel I had abandoned.

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.

Camille Laurent was stolen at birth. Swapped by a greedy nanny, abandoned without a second thought, and erased from her rightful place in one of the most powerful families in the country. While the real heiress struggled to survive, the nanny's daughter, Talia, was raised in luxury as the beloved jewel of the Laurent family, pampered by Camille's parents, adored by her three brothers, and even promised to the prestigious Matteo Devereux through a childhood engagement arranged by their grandparents. Then the truth came out. Six months ago, Camille was finally brought back to the Laurent family. To protect the family reputation and prove their devotion to their bloodline, the Laurent patriarch transferred 35% of his personal shares into Camille's name overnight, instantly making her one of the wealthiest heiresses in the country. It brought anxiety to all the Laurent family. But what they don't know.is that Camille never needed them. Behind her elegant smile lies a woman filled with secrets powerful enough to shake the whole family. She's a miraculous healer capable of curing the incurable poisons. Yet despite everything, her family still chooses Talia. Every accusation against Talia is forgiven. Every scheme against Camille is brushed aside. Even Matteo, the man who was supposed to be Camille's fiancé-cannot let go of the woman he always believed belonged by his side. But while the Laurent family underestimates Camille, another man begins to see exactly who she is. Dante Moretti. The ruthless heir of an old-money dynasty. A billionaire CEO worshipped by the public.and the merciless king of a criminal empire hidden beneath the city's glittering surface. When Dante is poisoned by a rival syndicate with a deadly toxin no doctor can cure, he offers a fortune for anyone who can save him. Only Camille can. Their deal is simple: she becomes his personal physician, and he gives her anything she wants.

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.

She went to lose her virginity to her boyfriend... But woke up in his father's bed. Now, Isabella is trapped between two dangerous men- one who thinks he owns her... and one who refuses to let her go. Secrets. Desire. Betrayal. And a Mafia King who never shares what's his.

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.

I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.