whitepheonix

**"Leave me alone! Please, just let me go!"** My voice cracked as I thrashed in his iron grip, but it was useless. He scooped me up effortlessly, his hold unyielding, carrying me off to a fate I couldn’t escape.  

This can’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.  

"I don’t want this," I whispered, my voice raw with terror. "Please… just let me go."  

My pleas barely reached his ears, or if they did, he didn’t care. His silence was louder than any threat, his indifference a dagger to my chest.  

A heartbeat later, my body hit the softness of a king-sized bed, but there was no comfort in it. My tears had nearly dried, leaving only silent sobs wracking my frame. I forced myself to speak, desperation lacing every syllable.  

"Luciano, please," I choked out. "If I’ve wronged you in any way, I’m sorry. But don’t punish me like this."  

A deafening crack split the air, and before I could react, fire exploded across my cheek. The force of the slap sent my head whipping to the side, my skin stinging from the brutal contact.  

The room pulsed with danger.  

**"No one calls me by my name,"** he growled, his voice like crushed glass—sharp, merciless. **"And no one tells me what to do."**  

His fingers curled under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. Cold, dark, and bottomless, his eyes held no mercy, no hesitation.  

"You will warm my bed," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft, laced with cruel intent. "You will satisfy my every craving, no matter how disastrous, no matter how dark."  

A wicked smirk ghosted over his lips, his grip tightening.  

"Because you are mine to break. And no one stops me."  

He leaned in, his breath fanning against my trembling lips.  

"Now… come here."  

---

Story by white pheonix

Pregnant by the Mafia boss

"Ash's birthday is in a day, and Asher and I have decided to surprise her with a party as an apology," I mused, giggling softly. 


 But a large part of me carried a lingering suspicion—something bad was bound to happen. 


I walked forward, listening to the murmurs of passersby, their voices dripping with admiration for Asher's beauty. Over and over again, they gushed about her, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. 


As we passed by the main reception, I noticed a group of children playing in the museum park. Mud smeared their little faces as their laughter filled the air, their joy so pure and innocent. 


He stood beside a sleek black Honda, his pearl-blue eyes glowing with a hypnotic intensity. The way they radiated was almost unnatural. Dressed in a sharp formal suit, he was impossibly tall—easily nearing two meters. And that smirk… 


Kidnapped/forced