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?" _

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."

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 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 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.

The moment I saw my husband massaging his dead brother's pregnant mistress's feet, I knew my marriage was over. He moved her into our home under the guise of "family duty," forcing me to watch as he prioritized her comfort over our vows. The final betrayal came when she stole and deliberately broke my mother's priceless necklace. When I slapped her for the desecration, my husband struck me across the face to defend her. He had violated a sacred honor code by putting his hands on the daughter of another Don-an act of war. I looked him in the eye and swore on my mother's grave that I would bring a bloody revenge upon his entire family. Then I made one phone call to my father, and the demolition of his empire began.

My marriage to Joshua Caldwell was a prison sentence. I was a Hartman trophy, sold to the powerful family who had destroyed mine. Then I discovered he was cheating. His mistress was pregnant with the child he denied me, and he was stealing my secret song lyrics to build her career. When I confronted him, he called me a spineless liability and threatened to destroy what was left of my family. To make matters worse, a one-night stand with a stranger turned out to be with my husband's brother, Anthony Caldwell-the Don of the city. He knew all of Joshua's secrets and used them to trap me in a twisted game, seeing me as nothing more than an asset. They both thought I was a broken doll they could control. I wrote a song for his mistress, a beautiful execution with a single, impossible note I knew would destroy her voice. She sang it, and now her career is over. Now the Don has summoned me to Chicago, not knowing the woman he thinks is his asset is the one who just burned his brother's world to the ground.

BLURB: River never intended to be pulled into the dangerous world of the Mafia, but a single moment of bravery changes everything. In an attempt to save the man who fuels her wildest fantasies, she unwittingly steps into the path of Rico Swavey, the ruthless Mafia Lord with a dark, hidden past. Rico has built his empire on control and secrecy, keeping his heart locked away. But when River, the doe-eyed woman who sparks something dangerous within him, stumbles into his life, his defenses begin to crumble. Haunted by a crime from his childhood, Rico struggles to accept love, especially from someone like River. What happens when she becomes a stripper in his club? Can River break through the walls around Rico's heart? And can Rico forgive himself for the sins of his past to embrace a future with her? Dive into their world of passion, danger, and redemption in HIS HEALING GRACE.

On my wedding day, the wedding planner looked at me with pity in her eyes. She told me the groom had called with a last-minute request. He wanted the name on the floral arch changed from "Elena" to "Sofia." Five years of loyalty to Dante Romero, and I found out he was planning a "secret" ceremony with his mistress an hour before ours. He claimed she was dying of cancer. He said it was her final wish to be a bride, and that as a good mafia wife, I should understand. He swore it was just charity. But I had seen the texts where he called me "furniture." I had watched him step over my body when I fell down the stairs at a club, just so he could leave with her. And this morning, I watched Sofia walk into the hotel lobby wearing *my* custom French lace wedding dress, smirking as she clung to his arm. Dante thinks I'm crying in the bridal suite. He thinks I will sit in the front row of his "fake" wedding and wait for my turn like a dutiful puppet. He is wrong. I wiped my tears and picked up my phone. I didn't cancel the wedding date. I just changed the location to the ballroom next door. And I changed the groom. As Dante says his vows to his mistress, I am walking down the aisle to meet the only man the Romero family fears. The Reaper.

I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me. But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest. The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me. They didn't. Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her. They let me burn to keep her warm. When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages. That was the moment Elena Vitiello died. I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York. By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring. "You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them. "Burn for it."

I was trapped in a locked-in state for six months, fully conscious but unable to move a single muscle. My step-family, Delma and Jazmyne, marched into my hospital room, forged a Do Not Resuscitate order, and yanked out my oxygen tube just to stop paying my medical bills. When my three-year-old daughter, Amari, leaped out from under the bed to protect me, they beat her mercilessly. They kicked my tiny girl in the stomach, smashed a heavy metal IV pole into her fragile shoulder, and dragged her out by her ankles. They even tied her to a tree in their backyard and let a massive Rottweiler tear into her flesh, laughing as they recorded her agonizing screams. I lay in that hospital bed, hearing every blow and every desperate cry. I didn't understand why they had to torture an innocent toddler just because they thought I was a worthless piece of trash with amnesia. A tidal wave of absolute fury crashed against the invisible walls of my paralyzed body, burning away the despair. Gritting my teeth until my jaw popped, I forced my dead weight off the mattress and dragged my atrophied legs across the freezing floor to a landline. With trembling, bloody fingers, I punched in a twelve-digit military-grade encrypted code. It was time for my real family—the most powerful men in the country—to make these monsters pay.