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He was consumed by hate, while love ripped through me like a storm. We were like two thorns, trapped in a prickly embrace with no escape. We exchanged vows soaked in blood, sealed with a brutal kiss, and bound by bloodied rings, with no happily ever after on the horizon. Marco Costello, my so-called prince, shackled me as his wife, but he was no savior. I used to imagine what our life would have been like if I had said yes all those years ago instead of running away. I'd play Juliette to his brooding Romeo. But fate had a different script for me, casting me as the antagonist, trapped in a cycle of resentment and sadness, like a lost soul wandering through the shadows, unseen and unappreciated. “Till death do us part...” It wasn't a promise of forever, but a sentence to endless torment.

Elena Rossi’s life shatters when her father’s gambling debt attracts the attention of the mafia. ‎With no money to repay them, Elena is taken to a secret auction where desperate women are sold to powerful men. ‎Just when she thinks her fate couldn’t get worse, the most feared mafia boss in the city makes the highest bid. ‎Dante Moretti. ‎Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable. ‎Now Elena belongs to him. ‎But the deeper she falls into his dangerous world, the more secrets she uncovers. ‎Because Dante didn’t buy her out of desire. ‎He bought her because she reminds him of the one woman who betrayed him. ‎As enemies close in and a mafia war begins, Elena realizes something terrifying. ‎The ruthless man who owns her body might soon own her heart. ‎And in Dante Moretti’s world… ‎Love can be just as deadly as betrayal.

The craziest thing I’ve ever done was let a dangerous man touch me, and not pull away. “Trust me.” Words like that could mess you up in this line of work. Then he did something I didn’t expect, he stretched out a hand. Even I knew when not to doubt a helping hand. I sighed. Well, roadkill it is then. I clasped his hand and his firm grip pulled me up out of the line of fire. *** Cake Coogan survives by her fists and her fury, spending her life fighting in underground rings to keep herself and her mother alive. But one stolen payout, one stranger’s intervention, and one accidental bag switch drops her into the crosshairs of Nico Vescari. Nico Vescari; mafia heir, feared and ruthless, a man who kills with a steady pulse—wants his money back. What he gets instead is Cake: the girl with the iron fists, mismatched eyes, and a journal he should never have read. Fascinated, furious, and threatened by how she makes him feel, he gives her a choice that isn’t a choice at all—marry him for a year… or lose the only family she has left. Cake becomes both weapon and wife. She’s pulled between power plays, underground fights, and a man whose touch feels like fire even when she swears she hates him. Nico’s family is dangerous, his enemies worse, and his rules suffocating, but the most lethal thing between them is the feral desire none of them want. As bodies fall and alliances burn, Cake is forced to choose between revenge and the man who has broken her, protected her, and ruined her life in equal measure. In a story of obsession, and betrayal,only the strongest survive. And Cake Coogan is not prey.

After I was reborn, the first thing I did was burn every photo of Vincent Corleone and me. Then I threw his engagement ring into the fireplace and deleted every voicemail where he swore I was the only woman he would ever love. Because in my last life, that love turned me into a joke. Vincent said he loved me, but after I gave up my place at a world-class institute for him, he took Lilian White to Europe instead. She was the orphan he felt guilty for. The fragile girl he said needed protection. I was Isabella Rossi, heiress to the Rossi crime family. So I was supposed to be strong. Strong enough to smile when he missed my birthday for her. Strong enough to stay quiet when she wore my mother’s necklace. Strong enough to survive the crash meant to kill me. For seven days, I lay in a hospital bed, conscious but unable to move, listening to him visit my room for two minutes before spending the rest of the day holding her hand. Before my heart stopped, I finally understood. Vincent would kill for me. But he would always choose her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back three months before I rejected the institute for him. This time, I did not cry. I did not ask him to choose. I accepted the offer, sold my assets, erased my name from his life, and waited for my birthday. The day Vincent planned to propose again was the day I disappeared. He could keep his guilt. He could keep his fragile little Lilian. I was done being the strong woman he never thought he had to save.

To get a divorce from Dante Conti, I volunteered to walk away with nothing—even our three-year-old son. Seeing that I had deliberately changed back into the old clothes I wore before marriage, Dante froze for a moment, then sneered, "So? You don't even want Nico, the heir you fought so hard to give birth to?" "Careful. Play your part too long, and you won't be able to recover the scene," he warned. I pushed the signed agreement toward him. "Don't worry. This isn't acting." Dante shot me a puzzled look before signing his name. "So obedient? Fine. I'll be magnanimous and let you see Nico from time to time." He set down the pen, his gaze appraising me. "And if you regret it… come to me now, and maybe—just maybe—we could remarry—" I cut him off, standing and walking away without a word. He had thought I married him for the Mafia's power, that's why I had given him an heir to inherit his family. But once he knows I'm dead, there will be no more misunderstandings.

Ten years of marriage, and my husband slid the divorce papers across his mahogany desk. "You contributed nothing to this family. Under the prenup, you walk away with nothing." "Consider this a courtesy. Ten thousand a year. A hundred grand for a decade of your youth." "Don't even think about touching a cent of family money." I smiled and signed. I'm the kind of woman who's already died once. The next day, I took that hundred-thousand-dollar check and walked straight into the territory of his most dangerous enemy—Dominic Salucci. The man who controls half the East Coast underworld looked at me like I was inventory he hadn't ordered. "Why should I help you?" I leaned in close. "Because I know every decision Vincent Moretti is going to make for the next ten years. Every property. Every shipping route. And I know about the son he's hiding in Zurich." He studied me for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Interesting." What he doesn't know—what Vincent doesn't know—is that in my last life, men like them buried me without a second thought. This time, I'm going to watch every last one of them kneel.