
Nightfall - A Mafia Romance
A mafia billionaire single dad romance.
I just discovered the don's darkest secret. Wait 'til he finds out mine...
The Bratva don and I made a deal:
Spare my father. Take me instead.
But Dmitry Tsezar wasn't satisfied with my body.
He wanted everything else, too.
My obedience. My submission.
My heart. My soul.
And when that still wasn't enough, he came to take my life.
But then I found something.
Something twisted. Something wrong.
Something hidden in a locked room of his mansion, in a wing he warned me never, ever to wander near.
When I opened the door and discovered Dmitry's secret...
Everything changed forever.
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Chapter 5
He flinches away from me and nods. "Yes. Yes, I understand."
"You know I like you, Lawrence," I say, stepping back and twisting my neck to one side and then the other, a flurry of pops releasing the tension in my upper back. "But I don't often mix business and pleasure. If you fuck me over, I'll fuck you up. No second chances."
Lawrence pinches his mouth together and nods. "I understand."
I take another step backwards and shrug. "I just killed my best friend yesterday. So, if you somehow think you can sweet-talk your way out of this, I'd urge you to reconsider. Get the money. Hand it over. Make it easy on yourself."
His eyes flare when he hears my confession, and he looks around at my men. I see recognition flood his face. Sevastian isn't here with me. He isn't standing behind me like he usually is.
"He must have done something horrible," Lawrence says.
"He made his choice."
Lawrence looks up at me, his brown eyes wide and glassy. They crinkle in a sad smile. "We all make choices."
Me. He's talking about me.
I made a choice, and Lawrence doesn't agree with it.
But Lawrence doesn't know shit.
The anger that has been building inside of me since last night, the anger that I've kept quietly contained, breaks its mold for a second, flashing out. Before I can think about it, I've reared back and hurled a fist into Lawrence's stomach.
At the last second, I pull the punch slightly, but the force of it is still enough to make Lawrence groan and double over.
My men press forward, ready to act the second Lawrence tries to fight, but he just stumbles back and grips at the counter to keep standing.
I flex my fingers and am about to turn to leave when a flash of shadow catches my attention. I don't even have time to recognize what it is before I hear a high-pitched scream and then a person is on top of me.
Hands scratch at my face and chest, and I wobble, trying to find my balance with this new weight affixed to my side.
"Courtney!" Lawrence yells.
Suddenly, I remember Lawrence has a daughter. I've never seen her before, but he has mentioned her briefly. Never by name or anything identifying, just enough that I know she exists.
I suspect the woman pounding her fists against my chest is her. She's too small to be much of a threat to me with just her bare hands.
I grab for her flailing limbs, trying to peel her off me. My men are so surprised by her sudden appearance that it takes them a few seconds to recognize what's happening and step in to help. When they do, they manage to extract her from me easily, grabbing her arms and legs and pulling her back.
Her black hair is hanging over her face, wild and frizzy, and her chest is heaving from exertion.
"Courtney," Lawrence sobs, his first genuine show of emotion. "Please, let her go."
I hold up a hand to silence Lawrence and then direct my men to release her. They do it at once.
Courtney yanks her arms to her sides and then flips her hair back with an annoyed huff.
Now that I can see her face, I see the rage written there. Her top lip is pulled back in a snarl, her eyes narrowed and focused directly on me.
Still, even as angry as she is, she is beautiful.
I wouldn't have guessed she was Lawrence's daughter. He's pale and round, whereas Courtney has beautiful brown skin and a tight, lithe body. Her nose is pert and, presently, wrinkled in distaste.
"You son of a bitch," she spits, stomping forward like she's going to attack me again.
My men follow her movements, but she doesn't touch me.
I know I should be angry. Annoyed, even.
But I can't find it within me. I'm simply curious.
"Were you trying to attack me?" I ask.
Her eyes narrow further. "Only because you attacked my father."
"One punch," I say, holding up a finger. "That hardly constitutes an attack."
"He's a hardworking man, and you are a fucking leech."
"Courtney, baby," Lawrence warns. "I'm okay. I'm fine."
I wave another hand to silence him. It's hard to believe such a strong-willed woman could come from such a docile man.
"Don't speak again until I give the okay," I bark over my shoulder to him. "I'd like to have a word with your daughter."
I hear Lawrence's breathing pick up. My fists didn't scare him. But my merely looking at his daughter has him terrified.
"He isn't your slave," Courtney snaps. "He can do whatever he likes."
"True," I admit. "And so can you. Unfortunately, whatever you do, I'll take out on him."
Her eyes widen. I can see the words burning at the end of her tongue, but she doesn't speak them. She bites them back.
Good girl.
I walk towards her, enjoying the way she stiffens with every step. Just before we're chest to chest, I turn and walk around her, admiring every inch.
She has on a pair of tight jeans that hug her curves and a V-neck sweater that shows off her impressive cleavage. Her body is soft and tight in all the right places.
"Find the woman a seat," I say to Rurik, my eyes not leaving the girl. He nods and grabs a stool from the corner. He places it behind Courtney, but it isn't until I push on her shoulder that she sits down.
I pace the floor, drumming my fingers together. "This is an interesting turn of events."
"Please," Lawrence whispers.
I spin towards him, nostrils flared. "I told you not to speak."
He closes his eyes.
I begin my pacing again. "Lawrence owes me money. Did you hear that part, Courtney?" I ask, turning towards her. "I assume you've been eavesdropping for a while. You know what this is about?"
"I know what it's about," she says through gritted teeth. "It's about you compensating for your small penis."
I should slap her across the face, but instead I bark out a laugh.
My response surprises me more than anyone, but Courtney's eyebrow arches upwards.
"Your father and I had just reached an understanding," I continue. "Twenty-four hours for him to come up with the five thousand dollars he owes me this month."
"This month?" Courtney asks, turning her attention to her father. "Dad, why didn't you tell me?"
Lawrence inhales to say something, but I spin around and shake my head. He closes his mouth and stares down at the floor.
"That's too much," Courtney says. "It isn't fair."
"Fair doesn't exist in the real world."
She rolls her eyes. "God, you are a cliché."
I find Courtney intriguing in the best way, but I also can't go on letting her think she can say whatever she wants without consequence. I take a deep breath and then spin around, pummeling my fist into Lawrence's stomach. For a second time, I pull the punch, but the force is enough to surprise him.
Courtney yelps. "Jesus, stop! I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
When I turn around, her eyes are wide and glassy, and she looks like a doll. Her skin is smooth and perfect and her hair is shiny and falling around her shoulders in messy waves. She is a picture, and I want to study her further.
"Are you, though?" I ask, balling my hand into a fist.
She nods frantically. "I'm. I'm sorry."
I turn towards Lawrence, but he isn't looking at me. He's looking over my shoulder at his daughter, shaking his head.
She is what Lawrence cares about. She's the reason he always paid on time and treated me with respect. Not because he actually respects me, but because he loves her.
And he'll do anything to keep her safe.
"This stop has taken longer than I planned, and now I'm not so sure I want to come back here tomorrow night to do it all over again." I frown. "And since we never got a chance to shake on it, our deal wasn't finalized."
"You rat," Courtney says behind me.
I ignore her. "I believe we should resolve this now. In my experience, once someone gets behind on one payment, they continually come up short on the next, and the next. It is a slippery slope."
"I can get the money-" Lawrence starts.
"Still not okay for you to talk," I growl.
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7.5
On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.

9.0
Ashlyn was supposed to be just a fragile college student, selling her rare blood to a vicious crime syndicate enforcer to keep his dying sister alive.
But the dynamic shattered when Alex returned from a two-month disappearance. He stepped into the penthouse covered in dirt and blood, sporting a horrific, jagged knife wound slashed completely across his face.
Knowing exactly how to exploit his insecurities, Ashlyn played the role of the terrified victim to perfection. She screamed, pushed against his chest, and called him a terrifying monster. Humiliated and enraged by her blatant disgust, Alex violently smashed a marble table and kicked her out. He forced her out into a freezing, torrential rainstorm without a coat, vowing to kill her if she ever showed her face again.
What the ruthless enforcer didn't know was that her pathetic, trembling tears were a flawless, calculated lie. She wasn't a helpless, greedy girl. She was a cold-blooded corporate mastermind hiding from a family of elite assassins. She desperately needed his impenetrable penthouse fortress to stay alive, and she knew the only way to secure her place wasn't to ask for it, but to make him beg for her return.
Three days later, his sister's organs began to fail, and the hospital's blood bank ran dry.
"I'll pay you whatever you want. Just get here."
Listening to the desperate, broken voice of the monster over her burner phone, Ashlyn smiled coldly in the dark. The trap had snapped shut, and he had just handed her all the power.

8.7
I make my living binding monsters to their promises. But Silas Malphas is the one monster I never should have touched.
As a Thread-Binder, I can see the glowing, invisible strings of loyalty, debt, and lies connecting everyone in the city's supernatural underworld. It makes me the ultimate contract lawyer-and the perfect infiltrator.
My mission is simple: secure a job in the inner circle of the House of Malphas, the city's most ruthless monster syndicate, and steal the Primal Ledger from their lethal heir.
Silas Malphas commands the shadows themselves. He is arrogant, dominant, and terrifyingly elegant. But the most dangerous thing about him isn't his power-it's that when I look at him, I see *nothing*. He is a void in the magical spectrum. No debts. No loyalties. He is completely unreadable.
I was supposed to betray him. But as I am dragged deeper into his golden cage of high-stakes negotiations and blood-soaked boardroom politics, the lines between my mission and my dark attraction to the Beast begin to blur.
When a rival faction launches a deadly coup and my cover is blown, I am left with a terrifying choice. To survive the night, I must forge a blood-oath contract with the very monster I was sent to destroy.
I'm no longer just his lawyer. I'm bound to the Beast.

7.8
Helen was finally brought back to the luxurious Gallagher estate as their long-lost blood relative.
But her new family didn't welcome her; they looked at her with undisguised disgust.
The matriarch mocked her stench of poverty, while her step-sister Candice treated her like a feral animal. The patriarch, Fredy—who had built his empire by betraying Helen's mother—tried to break her spirit. He blackmailed Helen into attending a high-society gala by threatening to cut off her grandmother's medical funds.
At the gala, Candice squeezed into a diamond-encrusted gown, desperate to seduce the guest of honor, Damian Montgomery. Damian was the most powerful man in New York, and he was currently tearing the city apart looking for a mysterious woman named Jane.
Overhearing this, a sick, greedy smile spread across Candice's face. She planned to impersonate Jane to claim Damian's wealth and completely crush Helen under her heel.
"Hide in the corner tonight. Don't you dare try to speak to anyone important!"
They all thought Helen was just a helpless, uncultured country girl they could easily manipulate and step on to secure their stolen legacy.
What they didn't know was that Helen was the real Jane. She was the lethal shadow who had saved Damian in the woods, shattered his grip, and robbed his highly guarded vault just the night before.
Helen calmly adjusted her simple black dress and stepped into the ballroom, ready to tear their stolen world apart.

9.1
When is the worst time to tell someone he's going to be a father?
Probably the day of the wedding...
When he is getting married to someone else.
Well, that is exactly what I did.
But my hands were tied.
Literally.
Matvey Groza is a dangerous man.
And nine months ago, he strolled into my shop looking for a custom suit.
But when I accidentally walked in on him in the changing room,
*I* was the one that ended up needing a new set of clothes.
It was a one-time mistake.
After that... good riddance.
But the pregnancy test I took a month later had other plans.
I kept it a secret from everyone.
Or so I thought.
But when Matvey's enemies learned that I was pregnant with his child,
they kidnapped me and held me hostage.
Until I broke free and ran as fast as I could.
And I had no one else to turn to but the devil himself.
What better time for me to enter the church...
... than as the pastor says, "Speak now or forever hold your peace"?

8.8
I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.
Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.
He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.
Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.
I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?
I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.
"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.
I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.