Not Yours To Claim, My Mafia Ex

⚠️This is a very dark mafia romance intended for mature readers (18+). It contains a morally gray anti-hero, obsession, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, explicit sexual content, and disturbing adult scenes. If you crave danger, obsession, and morally complicated passion, this dark romance will grip you—but reader discretion is strongly advised. Convinced that Rosa had drugged him to crawl into his bed, Italian Don Luciano Mancini took her supposed betrayal as a blow to his pride. He served her divorce papers without hearing a single explanation—and exiled her not only from his home, but from the country itself. Years later, Rosa returned with a secret. Their son was dying. Diagnosed with high-risk acute lymphoblastic leukemia, the boy needed a stem-cell transplant from a biological sibling to survive. And to make that possible, Rosa had to conceive again—with the one man who despised her. Her ex-husband. Luciano Mancini. But Rosa refused to reveal the real reason for her return. Getting pregnant by a devil was never going to be easy—especially when that devil hated her. She hadn’t stolen his seed before… but this time, she was ready to commit the sin if it meant saving her child. Seeing his ex-wife again—no longer innocent, no longer obedient—awakened something Luciano had never felt for any woman. He wanted her and… he wanted to own her this time. But Rosa was already slipping beyond his grasp. Because Dr. DeLuca, the man treating her son, was in love with her. He was willing to accept her in any condition—even if she carried her ex-husband’s child once more. When life finally offered Rosa safety, love, and a future free from cruelty… why would she ever return to the Italian Don? Except Luciano Mancini isn’t going to let her go. No one takes what belongs to him. Chapter 1 ⚠️ Content Warning & Copyright Notice This story contains dark romance themes intended for mature readers (18+). © Page Slayer. All rights reserved. All scenes, dialogues, and characters are protected under copyright law. Stealing or plagiarizing this story will not be tolerated. Legal action will be taken against anyone attempting to reproduce this work without permission. In the dark hotel room, two bodies were tangled in the haze of desire, skin on skin, breath against breath. The air was permeated with the scent of sex and passion. A soft moan escaped the woman’s lips—barely audible, yet familiar enough to slice through Luciano’s intoxicated fog. His brows furrowed. No. He knew that voice. In a swift, almost panicked movement, his hand shot toward the lamp on the nightstand. But before he could flick the switch, whispered through the darkness. "Ah—no, don’t turn on the light," a delicate voice whispered, and Luciano frowned. "You," he snarled, jaw tightening as his gaze locked onto the familiar face beneath him—while he was still buried deep inside her. His hand snapped up to her chin, gripping it roughly. Pain flared beneath his touch, but the woman only smiled—slow, sultry, and unbothered. “Do you not want me, Mr. Mancini?” Arching her back, she rolled her hips deliberately, and he hissed as her tight heat clung to him like a vice. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to stop—but he couldn’t. His fury was tangled with desire, and the combination made his blood boil. His gaze burned with rage, but lust roared louder in his veins. “You’re going to regret this, Rosie,” he bit out, voice low and dark. Without warning, he shoved her legs over his shoulders and slammed into her—hard, relentless, punishing. The bed creaked beneath their force. Moans filled the room, hers laced with pleasure and seduction, his with a mixture of anger and need. He didn’t stop. Not when she cried out. Not when her nails raked down his back. Not even when her body finally gave out beneath him, trembling and exhausted after countless rounds of rough, relentless sex. She slipped into unconsciousness with a soft sigh, her body limp in his grasp. But Luciano kept moving. Only when he spilled himself inside her with a guttural groan did he finally collapse beside her. The next morning, Rosa found herself in Luciano’s strong arms. She bit her lip, her eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face. Luciano Mancini—the enigmatic underworld don and… …her ex-husband. Even in sleep, he looked effortlessly powerful, dangerously handsome. There was something about him—his quiet dominance, the mystery in his eyes—that drew women to him like moths to a flame. Any woman would have killed to be in his bed. She still remembered the day she first saw him; she was twelve years old, visiting her grandfather’s childhood friend, who was also his boss at the time. When her eyes landed on an eighteen-year-old Luciano Mancini, she couldn’t get them off him; he looked like a prince coming out of her dreams, so beautiful. So when she was married to him at the age of eighteen, she felt like the luckiest girl alive. But slowly, she realized that luck was never in her favour, as he made it clear on their wedding night that he loved someone else and would never share her bed. Touching her was never an option. Still, she tried. She tried to win his heart, clinging to the hope that time might soften him. That something—anything—could change. Until the night when every fragile line between them was erased. When Luciano woke the next morning and found himself naked in bed with her, his fury was beyond anything she had ever seen. Convinced that Rosa had drugged him to sleep with her, Luciano threw her out of his house, handed her divorce papers without giving her a chance to explain, and had his men force her to leave the country. Only then did Rosa truly realize the depth of his hatred. She had never planned to return—not to this city, and certainly not to the man who took everything from her: her home, her family, her life... and left her with nothing but pain and heartbreak. And she wouldn’t have—if fate hadn’t left her with no other choice. She sighed, swallowing the lump of nervousness in her throat, and gently tried to untangle herself from his arms. But instead of loosening, his arms only tightened around her. Her heart thudded with terror as his angry eyes slowly opened, glaring at her with pure fury and hatred. “Why did you do this?” His threatening growl made her flinch slightly before she quickly regained her composure. With a slow, seductive smile, she looked into his eyes. “For money. What else?” she purred in a sensual voice. Luciano’s jaw clenched, his eyes filled with disgust. "Still playing the same games, huh? Taking advantage of drunk men and sleeping with them for money? Is that your new way of making a living?" he taunted coldly. Rosa’s heart ached at his words, but she masked the pain behind a flawless expression, her smile never faltering. “Sorry—I didn’t know you were my next client," she said casually, her tone light and indifferent. But her heart was racing with fear, knowing she was speaking recklessly to a ruthless mafia king who could kill her at any moment. Luciano’s eyes narrowed, irritation flashing in them. What the hell did she mean? Was she implying she had planned to sleep with someone else that night? “What a slut you are!” he snarled, his hand suddenly wrapping around her neck with enough force to make her think he might snap it in one swift motion. Fear flashed across Rosa’s face, but she masked it quickly and tried her luck one last time. “Mr. Mancini… just make the payment, and I promise you’ll never see me again.” Payment. His expression darkened with fury. “What’s your fucking price per fuck?” he spat, attacking her dignity with venom in his voice. Rosa swallowed the sting of his words. She had expected hatred from him—brutal and merciless. And now that she had what she came for, she just needed to get out before he started to suspect anything. “Ten grand,” she said coldly, grabbing her phone from the nightstand with a steady hand as his grip on her neck finally loosened. She opened the scanner, keeping her expression unreadable, even as her heart pounded in her chest. His face remained unreadable as he completed the payment on his phone. Moments later, Rosa’s screen lit up with a notification— twenty thousand euros is credited to your account. “Wow,” she giggled and her tone remained light and teasing. “You paid double.” Luciano’s voice was cold and sharp. “Ten for last night. Ten for this morning.” Before she could even process what he said, he grabbed her by the waist and rolled her onto her back, thrusting into her hard and deep. A flicker of pain crossed Rosa’s face—her pussy was still sore from the night before—but she quickly masked it with a seductive smile. She let out a soft moan, whispering his name between gasps, her voice dripping with temptation. It was enough to provoke him, enough to make him lose what little restraint he had left. Luciano’s jaw tightened, and his thrusts grew rougher—merciless and punishing. After he was done with her, Rosa lay on the bed, feeling like there wasn’t a single bone left in her body. God, his stamina was unreal—almost inhuman. Luciano got up from the bed, still completely naked, and walked into the shower without glancing back at her. The sound of running water soon filled the room. Rosa slowly pushed herself up, her body trembling as she reached for her clothes. Her hands shook as she dressed quickly. She had to get out—before he came back. When the Italian Don returned and found that his ex-wife had left without his permission, his fury ignited even further. No one dared betray him and walk away alive. Chapter 2 Rosa quickly took a taxi and headed straight to the city hospital, where her childhood friend Lucy was waiting for her. “How did it go?” Lucy asked. “It’s done,” Rosa replied in a hushed voice, her heart still pounding with apprehension. She could hardly believe it was finally over—it felt like walking into a lion’s den and somehow making it out alive. Lucy’s face softened with relief. “How’s Renzo doing?” Rosa asked, already hurrying toward the children’s ward. “He’s okay. Slept through the night,” Lucy replied. “Hmm,” Rosa murmured as she gently pushed open the door. There he was—her four-year-old son, Renzo—chatting with the nurse, who was trying to coax him into taking his medicine. “Hey, sweetie,” Rosa smiled, though her heart ached every time she saw her little boy in that hospital room. “Mommy! You came!” he squealed with happiness, and Rosa hurried to scoop her son into her arms. Her racing heart finally settled, soothed by the embrace of the only reason she kept going—her son, her Renzo. Five years ago, when Luciano divorced her and forced her to leave the country, not even her own family stood by her. She had no money, no place to go. She hadn’t even been able to finish her education. Married at eighteen, she had to drop out during her final semester because her mother-in-law insisted she handle all the house chores. So she couldn't get a proper job. But somehow, she survived Just a month after the divorce, when she found out she was pregnant, her entire world shifted. No matter how angry she was with her ex-husband, and no matter how strongly she had vowed never to speak to him again, she still tried to contact Luciano — only for the sake of her child. She didn’t want her baby to grow up in such harsh conditions just because his father hated his mother. But Luciano never answered her calls. She then tried to contact her family — the only ones she had left: her uncles and aunts. Her parents had died in her childhood, and her grandfather was gone too. But they spoke to her coldly and told her they wanted no relationship with her anymore. She had died for them the day Luciano loathed her and divorced her. No one wanted to end up on Luciano Mancini’s hate list because of her. At that time, she felt completely heartbroken and alone in this ruthless world, with no clue how to survive. And with this little life growing inside her, she was even more terrified—for his future, and her own. After Renzo was born, Rosa’s life changed completely. Driven by the determination to give him a better future, she worked tirelessly, building a life for herself and her son. They were happy. She was no longer alone—her sunshine, her Renzo, was with her. And for Rosa, that was more than enough. Until one day, he fainted. Then came the diagnosis: leukemia. And just like that, Rosa’s world shattered all over again. She had never been so scared in her life—not even when everyone had abandoned her, not even when she found out she was pregnant and completely on her own. But now, this fear was killing her. She couldn’t let anything happen to her son. He didn’t deserve to suffer because of her bad luck. So she went to every doctor and discussed every possible treatment. A flicker of hope lit up her dark world when one of them mentioned that the best chance for Renzo’s recovery was a stem cell transplant. Cord blood from a newborn sibling could potentially save his life. But for that… she would need to have another child—with his father. If she had been her old self—young, naive Rosa—she would’ve never dared to even think about it. But now—now she was a desperate mother. And a mother could fight even God if it meant saving her child’s life. Compared to that, surviving a night with that monster was something she could endure. She returned to the city without anyone knowing and planned everything carefully, keeping an eye on her ex-husband and his schedule. Lucy was the only one she could trust in the city, and she helped her with all the resources she had. Yesterday, as she was ovulating, Rosa took the risk—it didn’t matter if it cost her life. When he asked for morning sex, she took it as a sign that luck was finally on her side. It was even better—more chances meant a higher possibility of conceiving. Once she was sure she was pregnant, she would leave the city forever. “Mommy, I don’t want to take these yucky tablets anymore,” Renzo complained, his small face scrunching up in protest. Rosa smiled softly, brushing his hair back. “Just a few more days, my love, and then you won’t have to take them anymore,” she coaxed him with the sweetest smile—the one she reserved only for him. Only him—her life, her entire world. Oh God. She sighed inwardly, fighting back the tears that always seemed to appear without her permission—whenever her heart was overwhelmed by the love she felt for her little boy. He was everything she had. Everything she needed to survive in this world. But she couldn’t cry in front of him. Not when he needed her to be strong and do everything in her power to make sure his treatment worked. She gestured for the nurse to hand her the medicine. “Now, mommy’s good boy will quickly swallow it, okay?” “No!” Renzo pouted stubbornly, crossing his arms. “How about this then?” she said playfully, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a few chocolates. “If you take the medicine, these are all yours.” His small face lit up, and he opened his mouth. Rosa gently placed the tablet at the back of his tongue and quickly gave him water so he could swallow it without even realizing. “Good boy,” she whispered, kissing his forehead as she handed him the chocolates. “Miss, Dr. DeLuca asked to see you once you returned,” the nurse informed her. Rosa nodded. “Okay, my little sweetheart, I’m just going to see your doctor. You be good and take a nap, alright?” she instructed gently. Renzo nodded sleepily. The medicine had a mild sedative effect, and he yawned as he settled under the blanket. Rosa pulled the covers over him and stroked his hair softly a few times until his eyes fluttered shut, and he fell asleep peacefully. The doctor had mentioned that rest was crucial for his recovery. Without it, he would tire himself out quickly and become agitated—making things more difficult for the hospital staff. Rosa pressed a light kiss to his forehead before quietly stepping out to see the doctor. Lucy followed her, and together, they headed to the consultation room. Rosa knocked gently before pushing the door open. Dr. DeLuca was seated behind his desk, his expression grave, eyes fixed on something on his computer screen. “Rosa, please come in,” he said with a soft smile. Both women stepped inside. “Please, have a seat,” the doctor offered, gesturing to the chairs. Rosa glanced at Lucy, and they exchanged a silent look before sitting down. “You wanted to see me, Doctor?” Rosa asked hesitantly, her chest tightening with worry. “Is everything fine with Renzo’s report?” “Oh, yes. He’s stable and responding well to the treatment,” Dr. DeLuca reassured her. But then he paused, his gaze sharpening with curiosity. “Did you speak with his father?” “Yes… I spoke to him. He’s ready to cooperate,” Rosa lied smoothly. She couldn’t let anyone know about her dark past—especially not about her mafia ex-husband. “That’s… umm… that’s good,” Dr. DeLuca said, though his voice carried a hint of awkwardness. Lucy noticed it immediately. “However, you still need to submit the remaining payment soon,” he reminded gently. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stop the administration from demanding the receipt any longer.” “Of course, Doctor,” Rosa replied softly. “I’ll be making a partial payment today.” She had some money—what little her ex-husband had given her—and now, she was going to use it for their son’s treatment. “And really, I should be thanking you,” she added, her voice filled with gratitude. “You’ve helped me buy time and convinced the hospital to allow installments. But rest assured—I’ll pay every cent, even if I have to sell my organs.” Chapter 3 Dr. DeLuca’s brows pulled together. “No. I would never let you sell yourself,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’ve already spoken to a charity organization connected to our hospital. They fund cases where families can’t afford treatment. I’m confident they’ll approve Renzo’s case.” Rosa’s eyebrows lifted slightly as her dull gaze began to shimmer with hope. “Thank you…” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “Of course,” Dr. DeLuca said gently. “It’s the least I can do.” He paused, then added with a polite smile, “By the way… are you free tonight?” “Yes, Doctor?” Rosa replied softly, unsure what he meant. “Actually… I wanted to discuss Renzo’s treatment in more detail,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But I have a surgery scheduled now, and I won’t be free until late. I was wondering if… maybe we could talk over dinner? Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” “Of course,” Rosa agreed softly. She was already deeply grateful he was helping and personally taking care of her son's treatment. Besides, she also wanted to discuss the next steps—especially if she had to move out of the country again. “Alright then.” Dr. DeLuca’s smile widened. “I’ll text you the location. How does eight o’clock sound?” “Fine,” Rosa nodded as she got up. “Thank you,” she added before walking out, Lucy following behind. “I think Dr. DeLuca likes you,” Lucy teased with a smirk. “Nonsense. He’s Renzo’s doctor and just concerned about his patient. Perhaps he wants to discuss something important.” Rosa waved off her friend’s remark. “But asking his patient’s mother out to dinner?” Lucy smirked. “He could’ve just discussed it over the phone, you know.” “Maybe he wants to talk face-to-face. The treatment is intense, and we still have to wait nine months—even though I’m pregnant. I need to make sure my Renzo recovers completely,” Rosa murmured, her voice drifting off as her mind wandered. “Rosa,” Lucy’s voice turned serious, gently bringing her back to the present. “If you’re pregnant… you’re going to have another baby. That means—” “More responsibility. I know. And I’m ready for it,” Rosa said firmly. But deep down, her heart trembled with anxiety. The treatment, the pregnancy… She didn’t even know how she’d manage the payments. In the evening, Rosa met Dr. DeLuca for dinner. Lucy had insisted she wear something nice rather than those boring clothes and had lent her her hottest outfit: a white crop top and black mini skirt. After placing their orders, he looked at her seriously and said, “The stem cell transplant is going to be very expensive. You should be prepared.” “I’ll do anything to pay for the treatment,” Rosa replied desperately. “Can you help me find an organ recipient? I want to sell one of mine.” Dr. DeLuca pressed his lips together, staring at the woman before him with an intensity that made her feel awkward. Finally, he exhaled and said firmly, “I won’t let you do that, Rosa. And I’ve already told you that for the treatment—I’m already in talks with one of the largest charity organizations that supports cases like this. I’m confident they’ll agree to cover the expenses.” Rosa suddenly looked overwhelmed with emotion. “Thank you so much, Dr. DeLuca. I can’t express how much this means to me. I’ll be indebted to you for the rest of my life.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. When she had thought every door was closed, when even her own family had turned away, here he was—willing to help her without any obligation or relation. “First of all, call me Samuele,” he said gently. “And I’m a doctor—it’s my duty to ensure my patients get the treatment they need and recover.” “Still… you’re like a godsend to me. I can’t even thank you enough.” “That’s fine, Rosa. Don’t overthink it,” Dr. DeLuca chuckled softly and covered her hand with his, a quiet gesture of comfort. But just then, someone grabbed her arm and yanked her out of her chair with such force she gasped in pain. “Ow—what the hell—?” “You really don’t waste time, do you?” came a cold, menacing voice. Rosa’s eyes widened in shock as she turned and saw Don Luciano Mancini standing there, fury blazing in his eyes and his jaw clenched tight. “Already moving on to the next man? Is that what this is?” Chapter 4 Luciano’s cold blue eyes narrowed as they locked on the woman laughing softly across the table from another man. His ex-wife. His blood boiled. She looked like sin wrapped in silk—a knee-length black skirt clinging to her hips, a white crop top hugging that fuckable little body, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders like she walked out of a wet dream. And across from her sat some polished prick in a suit, bold enough to rest his damn hand over hers like she already belonged to him. Luciano’s fists clenched. So this is what she’d sunk to? Playing high-class slut in fancy hotels, spreading her legs for any man with a fat wallet? A bitter taste filled his mouth as memories came flooding back. Five years ago, after that night—the one he couldn’t remember because Rosa had drugged him—he’d woken up naked beside her, blood staining the sheets. Panic had gripped him. And then Laura, Rosa’s cousin and his girlfriend at the time, had told him that Rosa had staged the whole thing, faking her being a virgin and even using blood as part of a trap to tie him down with guilt. Laura had also claimed that Rosa had always been a gold digger, that she’d slept around before, and only wanted to stake a claim to his name—to trap him in their unwanted marriage forever. The fury that had followed was blinding. He’d felt violated, manipulated, humiliated. No one had ever dared to play him like that. No one made a fool out of him. And the Italian Don had decided to make his cunning little wife pay for her filth. He divorced her and sent her away, wanting nothing more than to erase that deceptively innocent face from his life. Back then, he was young and blinded by rage. Over time, a part of him had questioned if he’d been too harsh. But that guilt vanished after seeing her last night—playing the same damn trick all over again. She hadn’t changed. They said looks could be deceiving, and with her, that saying couldn’t be more true. Now, seeing her whoring herself out for money in luxury hotels, he felt no regret. She deserved every bit of what he did to her. The fury only intensified when he saw her shamelessly laughing with that man, seducing him with those innocent looks and dangerously alluring beauty. Such a bitch. Hadn't she been screaming his name all night? Moaning beneath him like she couldn’t get enough—clawing at his back, begging him not to stop as he buried himself deep in her tight, soaking heat and drove into her again and again? And now… now she didn’t even wait a goddamn day before crawling back into another man’s lap? Was she that desperate? For sex? For money? Or both? Why would he care if she slept with the whole city? He didn’t care for a whore. Would he? But what enraged him even more was the burning in his chest—the thought of her using the same seductive tricks, those sensual moves she’d used on him last night, now on another man. Would she moan that bastard’s name the way she screamed his when he was buried deep inside her? Would that man touch her the same way he did just hours ago, like he owned every inch of her? The fury boiled over. Before he could think rationally, he was at their table, grabbing her hand and yanking her toward him. Her soft brown eyes blinked up at him before panic spread across her face. "Mr. Mancini… w-what are you doing here?" "Come with me," he said coldly, already grabbing her wrist and dragging her with him. "Hey, mister! Leave her alone!" The interrupting voice made Luciano frown. He turned toward the man in the suit, who protested, stepping forward—but was quickly blocked by Luciano’s bodyguards. "Shut up and stay the fuck away from her," Luciano snapped, not sparing the man another glance as he pulled Rosa along, ignoring her protests. He didn’t stop until they reached the private room he had reserved for an urgent business meeting— A meeting that clearly wasn’t happening now. His mood had been completely ruined because of this woman. “Mr. Mancini, let me go! Are you out of your mind?” she yelled at him in frustration. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her face close until their breaths collided, hot and uneven. “You done playing your little games, Rosie?” he hissed, his voice low and laced with venom. “Or do you need a reminder of whose name you were screaming last night?” Chapter 5 She smiled seductively, masking the fear in her heart, which made her pulse race like a jet engine. “Mr. Mancini, that was part of my service. After all, that’s what I get paid for—to satisfy men, give them everything they want, make them feel excited in their bed,” she replied, trying to control her shattering breath. Luciano’s expression darkened; his blue eyes turned black with a murderous instinct. For some reason, his heart clenched with anger and jealousy at the thought of his ex-wife screaming another man’s name in their bed. He tightened his grip and mercilessly yanked her hair back, forcing her head to lift and her eyes to meet his. She winced but managed a smile—one that only made him angrier. “Such a shameless woman you are. I thought I knew you, but no—I never understood you, never saw this side of you,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry if I led you into some misunderstanding,” she murmured, keeping her tone sensual—or perhaps it was Luciano who heard each word leaving her mouth as if it were designed to seduce him. “I have a girlfriend, and I’m going to marry her in a few days. And you… you dared to crawl into my bed and make me fuck you. Don’t you fear the consequences?” he breathed out in such a dangerous way that anyone else in her place would have started crying and begging for their life. She was also very terrified. From the very beginning of her plan, she had known she was going to ask for her death while lying with her mafia ex-husband—but she had to do it. With no other choice, she was helpless as she entered the lion’s den and challenged him. “Don Mancini, you’re talking like that as if it means something to you. When we were married, you never thought about morals, never cared—always maintaining your relationship with your girlfriend. So why is it a big deal now? Sleeping around is your hobby, isn’t it?” she mocked, though the pain in her heart flared at the memory of how he used to make her the object of ridicule in public while flaunting his love for his girlfriend. It wasn’t her mistake to marry him, to come between him and his girlfriend. He had agreed to the marriage himself; she hadn’t put a gun to his head to force him. “You had become very bold, huh?!” he taunted with a death glare as he tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her face closer. Their breaths mixed, their lips almost touching. She sucked in a breath, trying not to close her eyes. Fuck—he still had that effect on her. “No, Mr. Mancini, how can I have the courage to be anything before you? I told you, if I had known it was you, I would have never come to that room. I still apologize. Please forget about that night and think of it as a mistake. Please let me go, sir,” she said in a pleading tone. She didn’t want to die by the hand of her cruel ex-husband—not when she still had a purpose in her life, and her son needed her the most. She couldn’t afford to die. Mistake?! Luciano’s jaw clenched, and he hadn’t let go of her hair. She was still in his grasp, like a deer caught in a wolf’s jaws, and yet she had the courage to talk back while looking into his eyes. She looked nothing like the Rosa he had known five years ago. But the truth was, after trying hard, Luciano couldn’t forget about last night, and for some strange reason, he wanted her even more. And when she called it a mistake and apologized, his blood boiled. Was she challenging his bedroom skills? No woman had ever complained. And his ex-wife had the audacity to forget, after he had put so much effort into her in bed—something he had never done in sex before. Now she was truly going to regret it. He would make sure of that. “So you sleep with anyone for money, right?” he narrowed his eyes, breathing over her lips. She swallowed before letting out a soft, “Hmm.” “Then I’m paying you in advance for two weeks,” he offered. “For two weeks, you’re mine and can’t see other men.” Her eyes widened in shock. No, that couldn’t be happening. She started panicking because she couldn’t afford to be in bed with her cruel mafia husband another night; two weeks were out of the question. And if she stayed longer with him, she feared he would sense her true intention and the secret she was hiding from him. So whatever excuse came to her mind next, she blurted it out in desperation to escape this cruel Italian don. “That can’t be happening, Mr. Mancini, because I don’t stay with the same man every night.” Chapter 6 Luciano’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with anger when he heard her absurd reason. “You’re very adventurous, Rosie,” he gritted out with disgust, and Rosa smirked, sensing the hatred in his tone. Well, yes. Hate me and get lost from my life again, she spoke in her mind. But outwardly, she just shrugged, making an innocent face. He snorted, making a sarcastic expression, and spat out, “You want a different man every night to sleep with? Not even for double the payment?” “No, Mr. Mancini, not even triple payment will work. I work on my conditions,” she said with an impassive face. He glared at her for a while. She knew who he was and what he was capable of, yet she still dared to piss him off. The little Rosie had surely become very bold. But Luciano Mancini wasn’t used to taking a no. “Well, it wasn’t a proposal. I want you in my bed for two weeks, and that’s not negotiable.” Rosa’s mouth dried, and her heart sank with her sense of doom. Fuck—she had never thought he would be so intrigued by her after one night, when he had never paid attention to her even while living in the same house for six months. What an idiot—an absolute masterpiece of idiocy and assholeness. She masked her terror with feigned confidence and spoke in a calm tone. “No, Mr. Mancini. I’m sorry, but I don’t take week-long bookings. I only work per night. If you want a two-week booking, find someone else,” she stammered, trying to come up with a quick excuse. God help her escape this ruthless mafia boss. Luciano’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t pull away and remained hovering over her face. His expression remained unreadable. “You work only at night, huh?!” “Y-yes,” she mumbled with nervousness. “Alright then, I will book you for every night for two weeks,” he said with an intense, dark expression. Rosa’s face turned pale with nervousness despite her efforts to remain composed. And now the Italian don became very angry. Was he really that bad in bed that she was making excuses not to be with him again, and was that one night really a mistake? Now he wanted answers, and the only way was to take her to his bed again and see whether she screamed in fake pleasure or reached a real orgasm when he buried himself deep in her dripping pussy. “But Mr. Mancini—” she tried to make another excuse, but it only seemed to fuel his frustration. Without warning, he crashed his lips onto hers, kissing her hard—rough and punishing. One arm locked around her slim waist, pulling her against him, while his other hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place. Rosa’s eyes slid closed, and an involuntary moan left her mouth when he thrust his tongue between her lips and tangled it with her tongue. Her body surrendered in his arms, and her hands unknowingly clutched the suit jacket of her ex-husband as his passionate kiss made her knees weak and her legs turn to jelly. But the next moment, he broke their kiss, panting and breathing heavily, his lips still hovering above hers. But Rosa didn't open her eyes. She didn't dare to. “What’s your rate?” he asked, remembering what she had told him. “Ten grand? I’ll pay you double,” he murmured, his voice low, hoarse, and dangerous. Though the offer was tempting, the risk was even greater, and Rosa was unwilling to give in. “No, I…” she began to reason. But again, he caught her lower lip between his teeth, biting hard and pulling roughly, making her gasp and close her eyes again before he released it with a pop and whispered, “Fifty grand per fuck. And there’s no limit to how much you can make in a night.” Her eyes fluttered open in shock. Why was this cruel mafia ex-husband of hers so desperate to torture her in his bed? Yes, torture—that was all he wanted to do to her for having sex with him last night by fooling him. And she knew that if she refused his offer, he would surely suspect her motives. No, she couldn’t take that risk. She couldn’t let him find out. So she curled her arms around his neck and arched her back sensually before smiling sweetly. “Wow, I didn’t know you were so happy with my service, Mr. Mancini,” she said. “Is it because no woman has ever pleased you in bed the way I did last night? I mean, seriously… you must have had countless women in your bed, but none of them compares to me, right?” She batted her lashes at him, feigning innocence, though her taunting tone betrayed her amusement. “Don’t be so happy about it. I only like to own things, and now I want to own you for two weeks,” he said in his deadly cold voice, and Rosa shivered at the effect of his icy tone. Of course, she was right—he wanted to torture her, and now nothing would work on this devil who seemed determined to ruin her soul, as if he hadn’t already ruined her life.