Claimed By The Mafia Don

Five years after I faked my own death, I came face to face with my ex-fiancé. He was now the most feared mafia Don. I was no longer a mafia princess. Just a waitress struggling to survive. His dark eyes locked onto mine."I'm giving you one choice. You can come back as a traitor... or you can come back as my wh0re. Choose." My lips parted. "I have a four-year-old son. He's yours." I was late to work again. Having a four-year-old isn’t easy. This morning, Leon woke up sick, burning with a fever. I couldn’t take him to daycare or just leave him alone, so I had to ask my neighbour, Tracy, for help. She agreed after I promised to pay her with my tips. I handed her some money, gave Leon one last worried glance, and a kiss and then ran out the door. The minute I stepped into the restaurant, I knew something was different today. There was a tension in the air, an unease that I couldn’t quite place. I barely made it to the back room to change into my uniform before the manager appeared. "Where have you been, Ariella?" he barked. He never yelled. He was always composed, even under pressure. But today, he seemed agitated—nervous, even. I swallowed hard. It hadn’t been easy to land this job. This wasn’t just any restaurant—it was an exclusive, high-end place, the kind where getting hired was nearly impossible. The only reason I was here was because of Damien. I had met him in difficult circumstances and saved him on the street one day, and when he asked what he could do in return, I asked for a job. I only finished high school and barely completed a year and a half of college before I had to drop out. So I have had to take whatever work I could find—two, sometimes three jobs a day—just to take care of Leon. It’s true what they say: from riches to nothing. That is the definition of my story. And that’s why I can’t afford to lose this job. "Hurry up, Ariella. Today is important, and we can’t afford to mess this up," Damien says, his tone sharp. "I need you in my office. Pronto." "Yes, Damien. I promise I’ll be quick." "And look presentable," he adds before turning on his heel and walking away. I change in record time, run my fingers through my hair, and dab on just enough makeup to look polished. Then, I rush to his office, my heart hammering. When I step in, I find him deep in conversation with two men I’ve never seen before. Their faces are unreadable. They exchange a few last words before nodding at Damien and leaving. "Close the door," he instructs the second they’re gone. I do as he says, and he gets straight to the point. "I need you to serve the upstairs VIP room." My brows knit together. I’ve worked here long enough, but I’ve never been allowed up there. "The exclusive VIP room?" "Yeah," he says briskly. "And before you ask—don’t ask anything else. Just do your job." Something about his voice is off. Agitated. Rushed. "People seem tense today," I point out. "That’s none of your concern. I need you to focus. You’re good at what you do, you worked here long enough, you look the part, and you’ve got the guts. But listen to me carefully, Ariella." His voice drops. "When you go up there, you’re a statue. A ghost." A chill runs down my spine. "You do not listen to what they say. You do not make eye contact. You don’t see anyone. You don’t hear anything. You take orders. You serve. You leave. Do you understand?" I swallow hard. "Yes, Damien. I understand." "Good. Gina was handling it, but she had a mental breakdown. So you’ll cover for her." His gaze is firm. "Be strong, Ariella." I nod and walk out, my nerves tightening with every step toward the VIP room. When I open the door, my breath catches. The room is full. Men sit sprawled on the luxurious sofas, women draped over them, their hands roaming freely. Some are talking in hushed voices. Some are kissing. The air is thick with something I can’t quite name—but I recognize this world. I used to be in it. And I swore I’d never come back. I remind myself of Damien’s instructions. You don’t see anything. You don’t hear anything. Just serve and leave. I move through the room, collecting empty bottles and glasses, and replacing them with fresh ones. I don’t make eye contact. I don’t linger. But I know who they are. I catch glimpses of tattoos, the suits, the presence—they scream Mafia. I take orders, keeping my head down, pretending not to hear the murmurs, the deals being made in hushed voices. Then I feel it. A hand on my ass. Instinct takes over. I slap it away without thinking. Laughter erupts. I keep my face blank, pretending it didn’t happen. I’ve already taken all the orders, so I turn to leave, but before I can, a hand grips my wrist. "Where are you running off to, sweet thing?" A low voice murmurs, dripping with amusement. "Don’t you want to have a good time?" I don’t make eye contact. I keep my voice neutral. "I’ll just get your orders." I try to pull away, but his grip tightens. He pulls out a wad of cash, peels off several bills, and tosses them onto my chest. "This money could feed you for a year," he smirks. "So what do you say? Why don’t we take this to the bathroom and get it over with quickly?" My stomach turns, but I force my expression to stay blank. I need this job. I just have to endure this for a few hours. "Thank you, but I’m working right now," I say as steadily as I can. Another man grabs my arm, trying to pull me onto his lap. I struggle against him, my pulse spiking. Laughter rings in my ears, the air thick with amusement at my humiliation. Then— "Stop!" The single word cuts through the noise, deep and commanding. Strong. The room stills. The laughter dies instantly. And for the first time, I lift my eyes. They land on the man at the head of the table. Oh my God. I freeze. I never thought—not in a million years—that my past would catch up to me. That I would ever see him again. Not so soon. Not here. But here he is. I stand there, paralyzed, my mind blank. I don’t know what to do. What to say. The man gripping my wrist chuckles, oblivious to my turmoil. "What is it, Don? I’m just having a little fun. It’s not like I’m forcing her or anything. She wants it." Another voice joins in, mocking. "Yeah, what’s the problem? Is she one of your wh0re or something?" I flinch at the word. And then— "As a matter of fact," he says, his voice smooth, cold. "She is." My breath catches. Shock holds me in place, but he isn’t done. He leans forward slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. "She is my little toy," he continues. "And I don’t like other people playing with my toys." The grip on my wrist vanishes as if I’ve turned to fire. The man stumbles back, hands raised, his face paling. "I—I’m sorry, Don. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I didn’t know.,.." Don. My heart slams against my ribs. He’s the Don? My pulse roars in my ears. How? What happened to his father? How did he become the Don? A low snicker cuts through my racing thoughts. "Your pretty little Russian wife wouldn’t like that." Chapter 2 I don't even turn towards the voice. I feel like I'm going to turn to stone. I guess I should have expected that, given everything that happened years ago. Of course, he's married. Did I think he was going to wait for me his whole life? But I still can't believe it. I'm still not ready for the pain that envelops me when I hear that he's moved on, he's married, and he has a family. I feel like I'm going to cry. Asher doesn't say anything. He just looks at me, and I just stand there. Frozen into place. All of a sudden, he barks. "get out!" the sound of his voice, the power in it—there seems to be some anger in it, and I can't help myself but scramble and start running towards the door. But then he stops me again. "Not you," he says. "Everybody out," he continues. Everybody stands up, and the whole room clears out in an instant. I'm left standing there, looking at him as he looks back, he just stares at me blankly. There is no expression on his face. I don't know how to react. I'm nervous as hell. I do not know what to say or do with myself. It's been five years. He's already married. He's moved on. There's no reason I would think that he was still mad at me, that he still had grudges about what happened years ago. Looking at him now, I can see how he has only gotten more captivating, more beautiful, more handsome with age. The boy I once knew is gone. The Asher I loved had a reckless charm, a raw, untamed fire in his eyes. When I was in love with him, he still had this boyish, young look about him. And now—Now he looks older, wiser, stronger. Oh so sexy... It’s in the way he carries himself, the quiet authority in his voice. It’s in the way his tailored suit fits him, the way his jawline has hardened with time. This is the better version of him. And somehow, that makes it hurt even more. He aged like fine wine. I always knew that he was going to get even more handsome by the day. I just feel bad that I'm not that woman for him anymore. Asher is still staring at me, he's not saying anything, and I can't read his expression, I decide to take the peaceful, easier way out. Words tumbling out... "Hey, Asher. It's been a long time, right? Was that five, or four years? How are you? How have you been doing?" He's just staring at me. I find myself continuing, blurting out words. "You're Don now. That's nice. Congratulations. When did that happen?" He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm not in that world anymore, but I'm so glad that you moved on. Married and everything. That's so nice. I'm so glad that you're happy." I don't know why I keep talking. He's still staring at me, and I'm starting to sweat. A thought comes to me, Maybe he doesn't even recognize me. Maybe he just felt bad when his men or his acquaintances were touching me. I don't think he remembers me. I laugh awkwardly. " You probably don't even remember who I am...But thanks for helping me out there. If you don't mind, I'll just get you your order." I'm about to turn and leave when he stands. I find myself stuck in place as He stands to his full height. Tall. Powerful. His presence fills the room. And for the first time in five years, I feel it—the force of him. He's so imposing. So controlled. So hot. Oh my God. I can practically hear my ovaries dying. My body betrays me. Five years. Five years in the desert. No touch. No heat. Nothing but memories of what it was like to have him—his body, his hands, his mouth. And now, seeing him, watching him walk toward me, knowing exactly what he's capable of… it's a struggle to stand here and act unaffected. He moves with purpose, oozing power, and when he stops in front of me, I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He's way too tall. That's when I see it—the anger, the fire, the coldness lurking in his dark eyes. Then, a slow smirk appears on his lips. "Oh, I remember you, Ariella Costa. I remember you as clear as day." His voice sends a shiver through me. Five years ago, Asher Romano made me a promise. He promised I would regret ever breaking my promise. Ever breaking his heart. And today, I feel like I just walked into his trap. His next words are cruel. Mocking. "People at home think you died five years ago. Your parents already mourned you. They're probably working on forgetting you ever existed." I swallow hard. It wasn't what I wanted to do. But it was what I had to do. "Setting that fire to your house was perfect," he continues, his voice sharp, deadly. "But you can never run away from me, Ariella. I knew I would find you and have my revenge." My body tenses immediately. The way he's looking at me—with unfiltered, raw hatred...I should be terrified. No, I am terrified. Because right now, I have more than just myself to think about. I have a son who knows nobody but me. A son who needs me. I cannot die. "Please… don’t kill me." The words slip out in a broken whisper, my voice trembling, my entire body shaking. But instead of answering, Asher raises a hand. I flinch and close my eyes. To my absolute horror, he touches me. Slowly, smoothly, almost tenderly. His fingers caress my right cheek with a softness that sends an involuntary shiver through my body. I don’t know if it’s fear or something else entirely. I don’t know if I want to find out. A wicked laugh escapes his lips, dark and knowing. "Why would I want to kill someone as beautiful as you, Ariella Costa?" His voice is taunting with danger underneath. "You have this beauty that captivates men, don’t you? There were plenty of naked women in this room, but the second you walked in, the men lost control. They wanted a piece of you. They wanted to own you." His fingers trail down my jaw, tilting my chin up. "Not knowing you already belong to me." I swallow hard, my breath caught in my throat. He moves away, settling into a chair with ease. He unbuttons his coat, leans back, and spreads his legs apart like a king, which I guess he is... And then, his voice turns lethal. "From now on, Ariella Costa, you are mine to use. Mine to play with. Mine to do with as I please." The words hit me like a heart attack. "Your body belongs to me. Your mind belongs to me. Your soul belongs to me." He smirks, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "I own you." Chapter 3 I shake my head. No. Again and again, I shake my head, willing this moment to be a nightmare. But Asher just watches me, his lips curling into a cold, calculated smile. His eyes gleam with amusement as if he’s enjoying the way I’m crumbling before him. He isn’t speaking. Just watching. Like a predator toying with his prey. I try to absorb his words, to make sense of them, but they don’t fit. They don’t make sense. "But you’re married," I whisper, my voice shaking. "You’ve moved on. What are you saying? I don’t understand." He laughs, low and cold, his mockery slicing through me. "It looks like you got caught up in your feelings, Ariella." His voice is taunting, cruel. "I never said I loved you. I never said I was going to marry you. I never even said you had any significance." My breath catches. "What I did say," he continues, his tone dripping with venom, "is that you my toy. I am going to use you until there’s nothing left. Until you don’t recognize yourself. Until nobody can recognize you." He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his dark gaze burns into mine. "I am going to have fun destroying every piece of you." Tears sting my eyes. My throat closes up, but I force myself to speak. "Please don’t hurt me, Asher," I beg. "It’s been years. You’ve already moved on. You have a family now. You’re happy. Please… just forget about me. I'm sorry...." Another cruel laugh. "Why the hell would I do that?" He tilts his head, his expression dark. "I, Asher Romano, of the Romano Empire, am a man of my word. I never go back on my word. And five years ago, I promised to make you regret what you did to me." His voice drops lower, colder. "And I plan to fulfil that promise., Until the end." He leans back again, completely at ease. "You should know by now, Ariella, I never lose and I never back down. Ever." "But I... it’s been years, I thought...” “Ariella, five years ago, you thought you could make fun of Asher Romano. Five years ago, you thought you could play with my feelings. And that ends today. I came to collect.” I feel myself choking on my thoughts. “I thought you had run away for a better life,” he continues mockingly. “I didn’t expect you would be wearing these rags and living on tips. What happened to Princess Ariella? The one who could have anything? The one who thought she could achieve everything? The life outside the family hasn’t been a walk in the park, has it?" I have nothing to do but cry, letting the tears fall. He stands up again and walks toward me. Slowly. Purposefully. When he reaches me, he lifts a hand and wipes a tear from my left cheek. I flinch, but I don’t move. Then, to my horror, he puts it in his mouth and swallows it down. “I love the taste of your tears,” he murmurs. “There’s going to be a lot of crying for you in the future.” His voice is calm, almost gentle. That only makes it worse. “Now that you’re in my hands, the things I could do to you are endless.” Panic swells inside me. Leon. I think of my son. My baby. He needs me. I have to survive this. I force as much strength into my voice as I can. “I do not belong to the Famiglia anymore. I left years ago, and I’m not going back.” I take a shaky breath, my voice trembling. “What happened was… I didn't know what I was doing then... I was a teenager. I’m not that person anymore. So please, just let me go.” Silence. Then—he laughs. It’s deep. Dark. Amused. He claps his hands together, slow and deliberate. A mocking standing ovation “That was one hell of a performance,” he says sarcastically. "Now. Get on your knees." His voice is filled with command, power, and absolute authority. I freeze. My mind is at war with itself. Some part of me wants to obey, but—what the hell am I kneeling for? Is he going to execute me? The thought slips from my lips before I can stop it. "Are you going to execute me?" He laughs. Slow. Dark. Twisting his fingers into the last strands of my hair, he plays with it lazily, like a cat toying with a trapped mouse. "Why would I want to execute you? Especially in such a public setting?" His tone is almost amused. "I mean, think of all the trouble I'd have to go through—concealing everything, dealing with the restaurant, the cleanup. It’d be such a hassle. And you are not worth it." He leans in, his breath warm against my skin as he whispers, "I could just take you, finish you off, and feed you to my dogs." A shiver of horror runs through me. My eyes widen with fear, and he chuckles. Then—just like that—his expression shifts again. Cold. Detached. "On your knees. Little butterfly.." I hesitate for only a moment before sinking down. What choice do I have? He looks down at me, playing with my hair, touching my face, running his fingers along my lips as if he’s testing me, toying with me. My stomach twists with nerves. I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know what he’s going to do. Desperate, I finally whisper, "What do you want, Asher? What will make you let me go?" His hand grips my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "I want a lot of things from you, Ariella." His voice is low, almost gentle. But the words cut deeper. "I want everything." He leans closer, his grip tightening. "And I am never letting you go. Not until I take my last breath or you take yours. Because you…" His eyes burn into mine. "You belong to me." A sob claws its way up my throat. "I don't understand!" I cry, my voice cracking. "What do you want from me?" A slow smirk appears on his lips. "You, Ariella." His tone is cruel. "You have just become one of the many wh0res at my disposal." He tilts his head, watching me like a predator savouring its prey. "So… congratulations. You just won the lottery." I look up at him, my eyes filled with horror. "What? No. Never!" My voice is shaky but firm. "I would never be that. I've been through too much. Suffered too much. And I have never stooped so low. Not even for you. Not even for you." I shake my head repeatedly. He only looks amused, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable as he stares down at me. The contrast is almost laughable—me, on my knees, and him standing tall and powerful above me. He brushes his fingers across my lips, slow and deliberate."You have no choice." His voice is calm, but something is terrifying beneath the surface. "From now on, you have no say. What I say goes." He tilts his head, watching me, waiting for my reaction. "If the family finds out what you did—if they find out you made a mockery of them, that you purposely destroyed your family's house just so you could run away…" He trails off, studying me. Then, his voice drops, mocking. "And for what? What exactly have you been doing all these years, Ariella? What was the purpose of all that drama?" I shake my head, my breath catching in my throat. I can’t tell him. I won’t. Chapter 4 He smiles. It’s slow, calculating. "Whatever it is," he murmurs, "if they find out, you know the rules of the famiglia." His eyes darken, his voice almost a whisper. "You. Are. Dead." A shudder of fear runs through me. I flinch. Because I know he’s telling the truth. The moment he takes me back, I am dead. Nobody will save me. I can’t leave Leon. I won’t leave Leon. He needs me. He sees the fear in my eyes. And he likes it. "So you better just tell me why," he says, his voice quieter. "Why did you run away, Ariella?" He leans in slightly, watching me. "Were you scared I was going to hurt you?" His voice is almost teasing, taunting. "Was it fear—after breaking my trust—that made you run away?" I am desperate for a way out. I can see that he wants me to say yes. He wants me to admit I was scared of him. So I do. I nod. Trembling. Avoiding his eyes. He smirks. "Good." He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I like your fear." He says licking his lip. Then, he moves. His hands drop. His fingers find his belt. The sharp click of the buckle echoes. Then his zipper. And suddenly—He's taking himself out. His d1ck is right there in my face. It is hot and angry. Its veins are bulging right there in my face. I don't know what to do. I'm frozen in place. What does he expect me to do? He then starts brushing my hair with his fingers. As he says, "Be a good girl and open up." "Why are you doing this to me?" I ask him, my voice low as I realize what is happening here. "Why don't you give it a little l1ck and see how it tastes? I remember how much you loved sucking me off. I mean, what are your options, really?" He's saying this as he keeps on brushing my hair softly, tenderly, as if he actually cares about me. But I know that's bullshit. "I'm giving you a choice. Do you want to go back like a traitor or are you going to go back as my wh0re? You can only have one." I cannot believe this. I just kneel there wondering what I have to do. All of those options sound like eating cement. None of those appeal to me. "So, what is it going to be?" He asks I can't believe we're having this conversation with his d1ck out and me on my knees. "If I do this, you let me go? It's already humiliating enough that I have to do this. But if I do this, give me your word that you're going to let me go. Just go back to your life and forget about me." He toots. "I don't know about that, but let's see how talented you are at this. If you can get me to c0me in your mouth, then I'll honour your deal." "Open up," he commands, his d1ck inches from my face. His d1ck is already leaking pre-cum. He moves closer, "Take your tongue out." He orders. I obey, extending my tongue. He begins to fist himself, then uses his hand to smear the pre-cum onto my tongue. "Swallow," he orders. I swallow. "Open up," he repeats. I open my mouth. "Svck the head, just like that...," he instructs. I take him in, just the tip, then more, and more, each time deeper. Both his hands grip my hair, pulling, anchoring him. I look up at him, trapped, forced to watch him. His breath comes in ragged gasps through his nose. There is no gentleness in his eyes, no trace of affection. Only raw lust and rage, swirling together. Before I can react, he thrusts fully into my mouth. It feels like hours have passed. My mouth aches, and my jaw feels locked. He drew it out, savouring every moment. Each time he neared his climax, he pulled back, teasing, prolonging. I didn't know how to process the experience or the unsettling sensations it had stirred within me – feelings I desperately tried to ignore. Now was not the time. Right here, right now, I was literally fighting for my life, for my freedom, and Leon's. That was my sole focus. I didn't even notice he was done with me, because he kept prolonging his org@sm. When he withdrew out, I used this time to try and release my locked jaws. So, I was both shocked and surprised when he released his cum all over my face, my hair. That was a lot of cum. It was in my hair, it was dripping down my face. I was too shocked to do anything but feel his release all over my eyes, my lids, my mouth. I couldn't even open my eyes. I wasn't expecting this, I just kept kneeling there, shocked, with my eyes closed, as his release dripped from my face. After a bit of silence, I started hearing the closing of the zippers, and I knew that he was putting himself back together. Eagerly, I asked, "So, are we done now? Are you going to leave me alone?" The answer I got was a low chuckle as he said, "Not even close. I am never letting you go, Ariella, ever." I felt my anger rising, "What do you mean? You promised me, you told me if I get you, to c0me, that you were going to let me go. You said you'd never go back on your word." I accused, frustrated. He laughed again as he said, "You should really pay attention, Ariella. I didn't say if I c0me, I said if I come ins1de your mouth, I would let you go. And as we both witnessed, I didn't c0me inside your mouth. So no, I'm not letting you go." his voice a low, predatory. "I... you... You tricked me." He laughed again, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You should have hung onto my d1ck in your mouth a few minutes ago. If you had, you would be as free as a bird right now." Something snapped inside me. The fear, the humiliation, the injustice of his words... "Fvck you, Asher!" I spat, He chuckled a dark, amused sound. "I'll be enjoying doing that to you every day, in every way." I felt the tears welling up, a fresh wave of despair swallowing me. My face was already streaked with the remnants of his cum. I was a broken mess. Then, his voice, devoid of any emotion, cut through my despair. "So, here's what you're going to do. Listen very carefully, Ariella." He paused, the silence stretching with unspoken threats. "I'm going to give you two hours. In these two hours, I want you to quit your job. And then I want you to go back to your crappy little apartment and pack a bag. Take only the essentials. If something looks like crap, leave it...A man will come to your apartment to pick you up and bring you to the airport. See you in two hours." "No, wait!" I cried, frantically wiping the stickiness from my face with my clothes and arms, desperate to see him clearly. "I'm not going back home. I can't go back there," I said, shaking my head violently. I was terrified. He smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips, as he stepped towards me. "Do not worry, Ariella. I'm not taking you back to mommy and daddy. I'm going to give you one of my apartments, and you're going to stay there and be my little beautiful little toy." He smiles patting my wet head, "I'm going to give you everything you ever wanted. Jewellery, money, clothes, anything you ever want. And in exchange, you'll stop using your head, you'll stop using your strength. All I want you to do is look pretty and let me fvck you in any and every way." The offer, presented as a gift, was a gilded cage. He wanted to break me and leave me with a hollow, manufactured existence. "That's not what I want!" I shouted. "I already told you, you have two choices—to die or to have a luxurious life where you pay for your sins. Which one is it going to be?" I didn't give him an answer. I didn’t have one. He smiled, a winning smile, as he started walking away. His hand was already on the doorknob when I realized—he didn't know of the most important detail. "Wait!" My voice was shaky, desperate. "I have somebody who depends on me. I can't leave them." He turned back, his gaze sharp and questioning. "What?" He scoffed. "A boyfriend? What are you going to say next? That you're married?" He laughed mockingly as if the thought of me having a boyfriend or a husband was ridiculous. "No," I said, biting my remark. "Then who is it?" His voice snapped, filled with impatience as if I were wasting his time. I stammered. I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to tell him. But I knew—I knew he was going to take me, kicking and screaming if I didn't. There was no way out of this. "What?" He snapped. "And don’t you dare try to run away? From now on, you’re being watched. If you try to run, you’ll pay for it. So don’t even think about it. I’m not losing you twice." I swallowed hard. And before I could stop myself before I could rethink..... "I have a son." website.literiess.com