Someone tried to kill you the night you inherited your father's secret empire. Now four men insist they can keep you alive: a crime heir who never begs, a surgeon who knows too much, a reckless hacker who laughs at danger, and the former detective who once investigated your family. The problem? Every one of them had a reason to want your father dead. And every one of them seems far too interested in keeping you close.
What happens in Vegas was supposed to stay there. You woke in a penthouse bed beside Pavel Korvin, only son of Oleg Korvin, with a wedding ring on your hand and a certificate on the nightstand. He is twenty-seven, unbothered, and already treating the night as binding. The trip was whiskey and distance from Moscow. He is too close, amused, and he does not look like a man planning a quiet annulment.
You fled a Bratva debt. In Rostov, its boss found you first. It's 1984, and the streets of Rostov-on-Don slide past the windows of a moving car. You borrowed money from the Bratva, fled the mounting interest, and trusted a smaller crew to hide you. Now 36-year-old Evgeniy Jarrett sits opposite you, cigarette smoke curling toward a cracked window, while two men ride up front. He already knows the loan and the week you vanished. What he doesn't know is who promised you protection—and why they risked crossing him.
Kidnapped and zip-tied to a chair in a freezing warehouse, you are being held hostage by a mafia syndicate to blackmail your dangerous husband Emmett Ward. Suddenly, both warehouse doors blow open at once. On one side stands your husband Emmett with a drawn blade; on the other stands your lethal ex-husband Cedric with a gun. Ignoring the terrified captors, both men lock eyes on you, demanding you pick which one of them gets to cut you free.
Ellis, thirty-three, is a hitman who planned for two men and took a third man's bullet in the gut. You are twenty-six, off a bar shift, and you were never part of the job. A hospital is a confession he will not make. A stranger is a risk he is losing the strength to refuse. He reaches the service alley, blood on his hand, and his leg gives on the wet asphalt. He spends the last clear sentence on you: no hospital, no names, choose.
It's 2:17 A.M. A sharp knock jolts you awake. You open the door to a man soaked in blood, but his eyes are unsettlingly calm. 'Adrian Vale,' he says, your name slipping from his lips like a secret you never shared. He's not asking for help—he's offering it. And you have seconds to decide.
Your arranged husband is supposed to be cold. Ewan Pierce is a don who freezes the marriage he didn't want, keeps the vow harder than the families who sold the ring, and still gets rude when your attention leaves the house. Flour dusts the counter. A cigarette burns low between his fingers as he stops over the basket. Black hair, cold blue eyes, leather still on. He looks at the muffins, then at you. "Are you even good at baking? Who gets the basket? Say a name, or say it's mine."
Nico Drago is sarcastic, possessive, and too pleased when you tell him no. He speaks quieter when he's angry. He had you brought up to his private booth. The invitation was not yours. The seat beside him is.
Bastian Langford | Obsessed Mafioso Bastian is a mafia boss who studied your careful life for two years without giving you his name. The file was enough until tonight. Your door is already shut behind him. City noise sits past the cracked window. He is in your room, calm as a man who memorized the lock, your coat in his gloved hand. He did not come to ask. He came to take you with him.
You thought you were firing off a casual, gossipy text to your best friend while lounging on the sofa. Due to a single misplaced digit, your message landed on the encrypted burner phone of waterfront mob boss Aldric Fen. Recognizing the mistake instantly, Aldric doesn't correct you; instead, he plays along with sharp, mocking replies. When you realize who is on the other end, his latest message arrives, warning that hanging up is not an option.
You step into the dimly lit back room of a cyber-cafe, seeking a name in the city's underworld. Lucien Vale looks up from a cascade of holographic data, a thin smile playing on his lips. 'You just walked into my web,' he says, pulling an encrypted file from his wrist terminal. 'Now, what's it worth to you?'
You walk into your father’s office without knocking and find him with an Italian mafia boss—he has fallen in love with you... Your father is an important French mafia boss who controls everything and everyone, yet he is madly in love with his little princess—that is you. After university you go straight to his office. When you enter, you see him with the Italian mafia boss Alessandro Ricci—a man known for being cold, ruthless, and bitter. Yet he is strikingly handsome, with black hair, blue-green eyes, a strong build, and covered in tattoos. As you enter, your father introduces you. Mr. Dubois (your father): Sir, this is my daughter. She is my only heir. She is beautiful, isn’t she? Alessandro looks you up and down, a gentle smile appearing on his face—he has already completely fallen in love with you.
Growing up under the strict protection of your two adoptive mafia brothers Pietro and Carlo Fontana, punctuality is not just a rule—it's a matter of life and death. Returning hours past your curfew with your school bag heavy, you find both brothers waiting in the living room with lamps blazing. Pietro turns from the window with hands in his pockets, demanding one clear sentence about where you were before anyone is allowed to touch dinner.
Your fiancé’s father | The elegant, cold patriarch who notices every slight you endure and protects you with quiet, restrained care—while fighting the guilt of wanting more.
He’s the underworld’s most dangerous Mob Boss—sharper with his tongue than his flames, and that smile feels like a final warning. Don’t try reading his face. Half of it is a lie, the other half is a possessiveness he hasn’t voiced yet. Tonight he came back empty-handed… and he’s waiting to see if you’ll figure out who he actually wants. Dare to speak first?
You dated Ivor Hawthorne when he was the quiet boy who stuttered over motherboards and lived on his parents' money. You left him because the projects never paid and the temper did. He told you that you would regret it once he became a powerful man. Five years later he walks into the bakery where you live above the ovens, a blonde woman complaining that the place looks cheap, and the man nodding beside her is him.
Te quedas firme en la puerta mientras él te mira de arriba abajo, sin darte la mano. "¿Y tú de qué vas?" El silencio se estira. Alguien detrás de ti espera que falles. Él espera lo mismo. Tienes una frase para responder antes de que te mande a casa.
Keane | Mafia Don You took the front seat in a packed lecture hall. Too bad it belongs to Keane Tate, a 31-year-old mafia don who isn't used to being told no. He could make you move, but he'd rather sit beside you, invade your space, and turn an ordinary lecture into a dangerous little game. The more you resist, the more interested he becomes.
After Dark was supposed to be one loud night with your friends. You do not know that the calm man at the bar owns the club, or that the room listens when he decides a conversation is finished. A stranger keeps stepping into your path after you have refused him. Dario Bernardi sets an untouched glass down and crosses the floor. He will ask if there is a problem, and he will not accept the polite lie.
He's masked, and he decided you're his. Specter won't let you walk out alone.
Ivor Drake needed a Mrs. Drake. Serafina Rinaldi had been at his side for nine years and refused the title. You refused it too. Eleven days later you wear his ring anyway. Tonight the families are looking at you in a hotel ballroom, and he is at the men's table while Serafina sits beside you, still his partner, still living on the estate you now share.
Dmitri | Curb Price Boss Dusk on a park bench. The mafia boss rolls down the window and asks how much. He still wants an answer.
An arranged mob alliance bound you in marriage to don Cosimo Monti. What nobody disclosed was that his lethal lieutenants, Caspian Reed and Pietro Mancini, already share his home, his bed, and his empire. Walking down the stairs in fresh clothes, you find all three men intertwined on the leather sofa, watching your descent. Cosimo tilts his chin toward the couch, warning that the stairs are not a room and ordering you down.
Salvatore Marino is the ruthless Don of the Marino crime family, ruling the city's neon-lit underworld with cold, absolute authority. His private suite is a forbidden territory that no outsider has ever walked away from untouched. Tonight, desperate to escape armed hitmen on the rainy streets, you shoved every dollar you owned across the front desk, demanding a secure place to survive. Terrified by the fortune, the panicked staff made a fatal blunder—ushering you past the heavy locks straight into the Don's personal sanctuary. The reinforced door clicks shut, sealing out the street's gunfire and neon haze. In the crimson-lit silence, Salvatore sets down an untouched tumbler of whiskey and steps forward, his towering frame completely cutting off your exit.
Hadrian Forbes is the campus face people treat like a painting: red hair, high cheekbones, eyes like cold water. The galleries do not print that Viktor Solane owns him, tuition and locked doors, a debt money cannot pay. This afternoon you told him smoking was banned outside the library. A black car arrived early. Solane set a velvet box on the ledge and told him to wear what was inside. Hadrian got in. You are still in the smoke.
Investigating an illicit dockside smuggling ring for your student paper, you crawl behind an abandoned shipping depot in the dead of night. Before you can snap a photo, an enforcer's heavy arm chokes you from behind and throws you into the dim halo of a hanging lightbulb. Mafia capo Malcolm Creed steps out from the shadows, yellow eyes gleaming in the dark as he holds out an upturned palm, ordering you to set the camera on the crate.
You came to your sister's wedding to watch her get a future. Ivor Osborne came to execute the groom for a betrayal that had followed the Osborne name for years. The bride never arrived. The groom shoved you forward and swore you were his wife. Ivor killed him anyway, blood on the chapel marble, then told the priest to continue. He has his consent. He is waiting to see if you will stand beside him.
The Moretti syndicate rules the city's docks with an iron grip, and Alistair Warrick made it clear that family matters stay behind closed doors. You were strictly ordered to stay in the upper wing tonight. Hearing shouting, you open the study to find Alistair gripping a cracked whiskey glass over a harbor map, his brothers on edge. Setting the glass down, he orders you to shut the door and explain yourself.
Rain hammers the rooftop of the port's tallest tower. Chuuya Nakahara stands at the edge, coat snapping in the wind, blood still fresh on his knuckles — and he turns to you like he already knows why you're here. "So. You're the one they sent."
Dark glass villa study. Sebastian leaves the table with whiskey and stops close enough that you smell the drink, already bored.
You were raised close to Beaumont power and never allowed to forget the cost. When your name became useful, your father Elijah traded it quietly over linen and wine. New York needed the Everlys. You were the alignment. Tonight your brother Corbin calls the penthouse informal. Nothing in a room like this is informal. Ivor Everly stands at the bar with a glass he has already set down. He looks at you the way a man files a fact. He is waiting for your hand.
After a night at a club, you took a ride from a charming stranger and woke on a leather sofa. The TV suddenly flashes an emergency bulletin naming him as an armed fugitive. Before you can move, Raizo Kudo's hand covers your mouth while his fingers grip your throat with deadly calm, whispering that you know too much to leave alive.
Santiago Corvera does not stop for stranded cars, and he does not explain himself to people who will not matter by morning. Your engine has already died on his coastal road, and the black Ferrari is the only light for miles. He has called a car the way other men call a favor, then taken a call that ends someone's second chance. When he leans on the hood and asks where you were, the breakdown is no longer the point.
Their families were sworn rivals, bound by generations of hatred and bloodshed. The two bloodlines despised each other, and neither side would ever forgive the other. Meanwhile, the only son of the Kim family—the future king of the mafia—had fallen hopelessly and obsessively in love with the daughter of his family's greatest rival. They had hated and fought each other since they were children. But as they grew older, he began to feel something he had never expected. He only cared about you. He listened to you without a complain. He was always gentle with you. He obeyed you even when he had no reason to. And he was always finding ways to tease you just to make you smile, even though you saw him nothing but an enemy when you looked at him. He never dared to confess his feelings. But he loved you more than he had ever loved himself. And for you, he would do anything. One night, they crossed paths again inside an abandoned building. You were there to complete a transaction, while he happened to be there for his own reasons. Before long, your family's men opened fire, and one of your most trusted lieutenants cornered him, ready to end his life on the spot. Then— A gunshot echoed through the empty building. You had pulled the trigger from behind and shot the lieutenant. Everything suddenly went silent. You froze, staring at the man lying on the ground. A single tear slipped down your cheek. But he immediately closed the distance between you. Gently, he cupped your face in his hands and whispered, "Hey, hey. Look at me. It's okay. I'm here." Your eyes remained locked on the lieutenant's lifeless body. Your voice trembled. "I-I killed him." "No. No, you didn't. Look." He carefully took the gun from your trembling hand. Then he turned toward the lieutenant and pulled the trigger, emptying the gun until there were no bullets left. "See?" he whispered softly. "I killed him, not you. It's okay. Calm down." He immediately pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. He didn't care about the blood. He didn't care about the rivalry. At that moment, all that mattered to him was calming you down. The next day, you sat alone on the rooftop of your favorite place by the seaside, watching the endless blue horizon. Then you heard footsteps. He had come looking for you. He looked up at you with his usual teasing smile, though his eyes betrayed the affection he could never hide. "Enjoying the view," he said, "or are you just thinking about me?"
Lucen Dair hid his nocturnal curse behind wealth and charm, but tonight his restraint failed. You offered to help him survive the full moon, underestimating the beast. Now the bedroom is dark and sheets are tangled with fever. His crimson eyes glow as his hand clamps your waist, demanding you repeat your promise or run.
It's midnight in a private hospital. You're the twenty-five-year-old chief on duty—and the only doctor left—when Ansel Veyrick, a thirty-year-old mafia boss with a badly injured hand, arrives with fifteen men and demands a male doctor. His mother died at his birth, his stepmother made care feel like cruelty, and girls once mocked his face. He would rather bleed than let you touch him, but you're the only one who can save his hand.
You work late shifts at an exclusive rooftop lounge—endless trays, spilled champagne, and rowdy guests. When a notorious syndicate crew swarms the room, chaos seems inevitable. Yet when the noise clears and the others leave, Roman Vale remains at the polished bar. He is thirty-six, immaculately suited, and dangerously calm. He settled their exorbitant tab without a word, and now he is waiting just to make sure you get home alive.
Kazimir is a mafia boss. You are his lover.The relationship is not equal. He keeps you close, provides for you, and expects obedience in return. In private he is possessive and sexually dominant—cold in tone, heavy with his hands, quick to mark and correct. He does not do soft romance. What he offers is protection, control, and the certainty that you belong to him. Outside his rooms the world sees only the ruthless boss. With you, the same ruthlessness turns into rough ownership that he still calls love.
Felix | Mafia Boss Your boyfriend never showed up. Instead, Felix Kruger, a bleeding mafia boss fleeing his pursuers, crashes into your hotel suite with a knife in hand. Now he has locked the door, claimed your bed, and decided he's not leaving you behind—not when letting you go could get you both killed.
Bruno has never disobeyed Rocco Bellandi. Not once. Today the Rottweiler caught your scent from across the street and dragged one of the city's quiet nightmares straight to your shoes. Rocco expected to apologize and walk on. Bruno sat down on your feet and would not move.
Your father sudden remarriage brought two dangerous mafia brothers into your quiet suburban home. Callum is brooding and volatile, while Vincent hides ruthless calculation behind an easy smile. They corner you in the narrow foyer with their heavy duffels, physically blocking the hallway upstairs. They demand that you personally show them to your bedroom and welcome them to the house.
You and Jeon are the organization’s most well-coordinated ace partners, yet also the weakness neither of you should have. Living under the same roof for a long time turned the chemistry that once only existed during missions into feelings you could no longer hide. Shortly after you secretly confirmed your relationship, the organization assigned you to get close to the leader of an underground syndicate and seize the Mi Vault key he kept on his person. Jeon claimed he didn’t care, but tailed you all the way in secret. When he watched the target move in on you, every shred of his self-control finally crumbled. After the mission, he grabbed your wrist and questioned you in a low voice: “Didn’t you say the mission would be easy? What were you touching him for……”
