Crime – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Crime – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:11 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Crime – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 First Time Rush (Worth The Wait #1) Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.ilovenovels.com/first-time-rush-worth-the-wait-1-read-online-dani-wyatt Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:11 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/first-time-rush-worth-the-wait-1-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Drama, Erotic, Insta-Love, Novella, Virgin Authors: Dani Wyatt Series: Worth The Wait Series by Dani Wyatt
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Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)

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Previously published long ago as Where She Belongs. :) This book has been re-edited, largely re-written, additional content added. Now...what you are getting...May is a nineteen-year-old heiress who's never been allowed beyond the gates of her family's estate. But tonight she hops a bus into the city with twelve dollars in her pocket and a plan to get out of her own wedding to a man she's never loved. Her plan is simple, if not wildly flawed…find the first nightclub that's hiring. Then, dance until she's earned enough to get her and her sister new names and a new life.

What she doesn't plan on is Decker. Forty-three, the definition of tall, dark and dangerous. Oh, and he's never touched a woman in his life. By the time May finishes her first sentence, he's absolutely certain he's keeping her. The problem is, May has no idea what her fiancé is actually planning. And it isn't pretty.

Decker is about to discover the darkness that lurks behind the pristine doors of the place that May calls home. And once he does, there is nothing on this earth that's going to take her from him.

Author's The Forever Collection is all virgins, love-at-first-sight over the top fantasy. Fall hard, fall fast, take no prisoners. These are interconnected, following different couples in the series. Best read in order but can be enjoyed as stand alones as well! Get a hot read, hard breeding, happily ever after, no cheating, and an alpha obsessed hero who will paint the streets bloody to keep his girl safe. Step inside. It's steamy

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

Decker

Another girl, another firing. That's how my week is going.

"It was just a hand job." Claudia rolls her eyes, and her fake lashes brush her tattooed brows. "That's barely even anything. I didn't even kiss him, for chrissake."

Her eyes dart to the corners of the room as if not looking at me will change the outcome of what’s about to happen.

"You know the rules," I say, fighting the urge to lecture her like a daughter instead of fire her like an employee.

Believe it or not, it hurts me every time I have to do this. I want to help them all, but in the end, they have to want it. I can't do it for them.

"I'm great at hand jobs. I got him off in like twenty seconds." Claudia pouts. "It's almost like shaking someone's hand. Would you fire Allister for shaking hands with one of the clients?"

Allister, my right-hand man, cuts in. "Congratulations on your skill set. And no, it is not like shaking hands. Did you wear a rubber glove?" His voice is always low, but when he's disappointed, it drops to something like a bass drum learning to speak.

He's pissed. He's the one who talked me into hiring her. I told him she wouldn't take it seriously. Looks like I was right. No pleasure in being right about this kind of thing.

I press my middle fingers into my temples. The lights in here drive ball-peen hammers into my skull.

I glance down at the open employee folder on my desk, then scan around the room. The office is all white. Some would say too white. Too cold. Not me.

Neatly stacked pillars of white boxes line one wall, labeled and color-coded by unpacking priority. One of the girls asked me yesterday my favorite color. When I told her ‘white’, she snorted, said that's not a color. I disagree. White is clean, pure, without blemish. My house is the same way, and I've lived there five years.

I haven't had time to make any of it anything else.

I re-focus on the task at hand.

Claudia.

Allister is my GM. And my best friend. Heart of gold inside a body the size of Texas. The stark lights reflect off his bald head as he shakes it, running a hand back and forth over it, staring at Claudia as she inspects her shimmering pink nails.

This is my club. My rules. The girls dance, they don't strip. They wear barely anything to start with, but nothing comes off, and every customer’s hands stay where I can see them.

But in this environment, today it's a hand job, tomorrow a blowjob, next week one of my girls is in the back of some asshole's car with her face bruised. I've seen it. I won't have it.

"So, I'm done?" Claudia juts out her hip and finally settles her vitriol on me. "You're firing me? This is total bullshit. One hand job and one joint, that's all it was. And now you're firing me? I didn't even smoke it here, for chrissake. You can't tell me what I can do on my own time. This place is turning into the damn Westlake Baptist Church."

I hold up her file. "Yep, you're done. You signed the contract. School, no drugs, no drinking, don't touch the customers. You fucked up." I shrug and close the file. "I don't fire people, Claudia. They fire themselves. Get your stuff out of your locker. We'll send you a month's pay to get on your feet. Allister will walk you out. I wish you the best."

I lean back in my chair. My temples are still pounding, and my stomach is eating itself. One a.m. Haven't eaten since noon.

"You can suck my ass!" Claudia gives me one final middle finger before she stalks out the office door, Allister rolling his eyes at me as he walks behind her.

Sixteen years a Marine. Now I own nightclubs. Funny how life turns out. I don't even drink, and strip clubs never did a damn thing for me. But I got out, and the world doesn't have a lot of use for a retired jarhead with no taste for desk work, so this is what I built. Monarch was the first. Four more after that. This one, Monarch V, opened a month ago.

Every girl who walks through my door — and I do mean every one — gets the same offer. Stick to the rules, and I'll cover whatever they need to get out of whatever they're in. Rehab, attorneys, GEDs, college tuition. I've bashed in a few pimps' faces along the way, too, when they came around looking to collect what they thought belonged to them.

Some of my girls are lawyers now. PTA mothers. Social workers. One's a fucking pediatrician. I keep every Christmas card.

The low bass from the floor bleeds through the open office door. I'm usually gone by midnight. Tonight I'm not. Tuesday is tryout night. Girls who want to dance come in, we look, we decide. I usually stick around for it.

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His Game His Rules (Last to Fall #2) Read Online J.A. Huss http://www.ilovenovels.com/his-game-his-rules-last-to-fall-2-read-online-j-a-huss Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:05 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/his-game-his-rules-last-to-fall-2-read-online-j-a-huss Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Authors: J.A. Huss Series: Last to Fall Series by J.A. Huss
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)

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Some snakes are worth the bite, and some kings are worth kneeling for.

Emmaleen
Thirty-seven day-one demerits.
One double or nothing dare.
And zero chance I'm leaving this dungeon, like... ever.

I’m the world's most inconvenient Word Collector. Giovanni Bavga’s biggest liability. I won the last game… technically.
But this one isn’t meant to make me stay.
It’s meant to make me leave.

His game, his rules... until surrendering to him became the only way to win.

Giovanni
Control isn't something you keep—it's something you lose the moment you care.

Little Miss Take recites her penance like prayers and writes poetry that destroys me. Now I'm the one unraveling while she kneels between my legs like she was made for my throne.

Emmaleen Rouke needs to break.
In half.
In pieces.
In a hurry if she wants to stay alive.

I need her in love with her chains and the lock on the door.

My crown, my kingdom... until keeping her became the only way to save her life.

The Last to Fall series is an intense deep dive into the psyche of possession, obsession, and what one man will do to keep the woman he loves alive

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

The contrast is obscene. The Aventador—alien spacecraft, alien predator, alien perfection—sits gleaming against brick returning to dust. Nero Nemesis matte black against urban decay.

Rain beads on the windshield, soft and persistent. I don't turn on the wipers. Let it accumulate. Let it blur my view of this place she's been hiding.

It's 7:07. I've been here since 6:45.

I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, counting the twenty-three minutes I've wasted. Twenty-three minutes I could have spent dealing with the LaRiccia fallout. Twenty-three minutes I could have spent making arrangements to contain Rico's disappearance. Instead, I'm parked outside a women's shelter that looks like it should have been condemned during the Reagan administration.

"Double or nothing." The memory of her voice makes my jaw clench. A throwaway line from a woman who doesn't understand that some gambles can't be taken back. Some antes are paid in blood, not cash.

I shouldn't have kept those fucking notebooks at her bedside. Shouldn't have written down every fluctuation in her breathing, every spike in her fever, every word the doctors said. Shouldn't have documented my own pathetic fear when her oxygen levels dropped.

Definitely shouldn't have stayed awake for seventy-two hours straight watching the monitors.

But I did.

What did I expect when I left them behind as evidence that I care?

That she'd just take the money, the passport, and private jet to anywhere-but-here?

That she'd just… play by the rules?

Why the hell would Emmaleen Rourke play by the rules when she can torment me with her weaponized cuteness?

I’m so fucked.

The weeds pushing through the cracks in the parking lot catch my eye. Life finding a way through concrete. Annoying. Persistent.

Like her.

Rico's face flashes in my mind—the shock in his eyes when the bullet hit him. Not fear or anger. Just... surprise. Like it never occurred to him that I'd actually pull the trigger. That his power over me wasn’t infinite. That I’d choose a woman over decades of LaRiccia-Bavga diplomacy.

He miscalculated everything.

The rain falls harder now. Summer is over. The drizzle builds to a steady drum against the carbon-fiber roof. October has arrived with its slate-gray skies and bitter promise of winter. The trees around the shelter's cracked parking lot are tinged with yellow and orange—a transition I didn't notice happening until it was already done.

I check my watch—7:12 now.

Two weeks since Dom and Ricky buried Rico in the woods out in Bucks County. Two weeks of carefully constructed digital breadcrumbs leading to Bangkok, where Deepfake Rico is currently enjoying a vacation complete with Instagram stories and location tags.

Two weeks of preparing for the inevitable moment when Luca LaRiccia realizes his son isn't coming home.

The digital clock on my dash clicks to 7:20. Suddenly, the shelter door flies open and Emmaleen bursts out like she's been launched from a cannon.

She takes the concrete steps two at a time, her lips moving in frantic conversation with herself, hands gesturing wildly at nothing. Classic Emmaleen Rourke crisis mode—all raw nerve endings and no strategy. The woman exists in a perpetual state of last-minute panic, yet somehow survives it every time.

She has no fucking idea where she's supposed to be at 8:00 a.m.

Because I didn't tell her.

The realization settles in my chest like a warm drink on a cold night. This little punishment—withholding the location of our meeting—was calculated. Petty, perhaps, but necessary. Watching her scramble now confirms what I already knew: she's tangled in my game. A fish hooked and fighting, but ultimately dragged along at my convenience and mercy.

I let my gaze catalog every detail of her outfit, an assessment as brutal as a coroner's report.

That blazer. Jesus Christ. Neon pink with shoulder pads the size of dinner plates, like she looted the wardrobe department of a canceled 1987 sitcom. The fabric puckers at the seams, shiny where it shouldn't be, the buttons mismatched as if collected from different garments over decades of neglect.

Below it, a denim skirt hangs like depressed drapery, the hem uneven and fraying. The fabric has that distinctive gray-blue fade of something that's been washed in industrial machines at church basement charity drives for longer than she's been alive.

Her sneakers—I hesitate to even dignify them with that term—appear to have been white once, in the distant past. Now they're a study in urban archaeology, layered with stains telling stories of every puddle she's misjudged. They squeak with each step, announcing her chaotic presence like some kind of deranged metronome.

The outfit isn't just bad. It's a deliberate middle finger. A visual manifestation of "fuck you and your Italian leather shoes." Last week's farmer's market ensemble at least had accidental bohemian charm—this is just sartorial terrorism.

Me: Milan runway, tailored precision, fabrics selected by people who understand the weight and drape of textiles.

Her: whatever fell off the donation truck after being rejected by the third-tier thrift store.

The absurdity compounds as she continues her frantic monologue, completely oblivious to my presence. A $300,000 machine—Italian engineering at its apex, 6.5-liter V12 heart—sits gleaming in this depressing parking lot, and she doesn't even register it.

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The Breaker (Roman Republic #3) Read Online Penelope Sky http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-breaker-roman-republic-3-read-online-penelope-sky Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:50:43 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/the-breaker-roman-republic-3-read-online-penelope-sky Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Crime, Dark, Mafia Authors: Penelope Sky Series: Roman Republic Series by Penelope Sky
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Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)

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In New York Times bestselling author Penelope Sky’s explosive conclusion to the Roman Republic series, an exiled emperor must make his final save his city from a dangerous takeover—or protect his beloved from a lifetime of danger.

I fell in love with the most dangerous man in Rome, knowing exactly who he was. And he fell for me too, knowing one day he’d have to me or his empire.

He chose me.

As brutal as it was, I thought his exile would be good for us. I thought we’d find peace together in a small village outside of Rome, in the comfort of running his family’s restaurant and the promise of our future. In the life growing inside me.

But there’s no peace for a man like Constantine.

No matter where we go, his past will always follow. I see the war waging inside him—the need to protect us battling the urge to reclaim what was lost. To avenge what was taken.

Now, as deadly enemies threaten the empire and his friend clings to life, the decision is mine. Do I ask him to keep his promise and stay with me? Or do I set free the emperor Rome desperately needs?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Constantine

“Thanks for this, Santino.” I admired the contraption he’d made with Medusa’s measurements, a walker that would allow her three legs to move freely but her fourth to be supported with a wheel. We’d gone to school together, and he’d become a contractor and could pretty much build anything.

“So you’re in town for a while?” He crossed his arms over his chest before he leaned against the counter of his front office. His receptionist was in the back on her break.

“More than a while,” I said. “More like permanently.”

“Yeah?” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Your mother must be ecstatic.”

“Haven’t told her yet, but yeah, she will be.” Her scream would probably split my eardrums.

He pushed off the counter with his hips. “Let me know if it needs adjustments. Happy to swing by.”

“Thanks, man.”

I put the seats down in the back of my Range Rover, placed the walker inside, and then headed back toward Taormina, up the mountain over the village, where my villa was nestled on the cliff face. It was still an extraordinary property with nine thousand square feet divided among the three floors, but the palace had felt like a city in comparison. Sometimes it bothered me to know Darius was shitting in my toilet and fucking his whores in my bed . . . but I had what really mattered.

When I returned home, I carried the walker through the entryway and the main common room with twenty-foot-tall floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the sea in the distance. The main floor had two different living rooms, an office, and a formal dining room, and then upstairs was where the bedrooms were located.

Aurelia sat on the rug on the floor with her back to one of the couches, next to the dog bed, and she gave Medusa soft, loving strokes across her cheek to help her relax. A cup of coffee sat on the table, and it still wafted with steam like she’d just made it. She looked at the walker when I put it down in front of them. “Wow, that’s it?”

Medusa opened one of her eyes and stared at me, but she didn’t get up to greet me like she normally would. She was still in pain, even with the meds, so she wasn’t quite herself.

It killed me to see her like that, but I knew I just had to be patient and I’d see her running around again. “Yeah, now she’ll be able to get around on her own. I know she misses being a dog.”

She looked down at Medusa and stroked her cheek. “Yeah.”

Most women liked dogs, but they liked the little ones you could carry in one arm or stuff in your purse. Medusa was a full-grown seventy-pound German shepherd. More like a wolf than a dog. But I knew Aurelia loved Medusa as much as I did. I could see it in the way she cared for her as if she’d had her since she was a puppy. It was so real it couldn’t be faked. “Baby girl, let’s give this a try.” I patted my thigh so Medusa would get up.

She lay there and released a breath through her nostrils.

“Maybe later,” Aurelia said. “She’s having a hard time today.”

When I’d brought Medusa home, I’d just wanted a dog around the house. I never expected to love her like this, to feel like she was a piece of my heart outside of my body. I’d take another bullet to fix her broken leg if I could.

I moved to the other side of Medusa, my arm resting over the cushions of the couch so I could touch the back of Aurelia’s neck, and together, we sat with our dog.

Aurelia continued to pet her fur as she looked at me, wearing nothing but one of my T-shirts, without makeup, doing nothing else except caring for Medusa since she woke up. With the light coming through the windows before us, her eyes were lit up in a glorious way, and she was fucking stunning. “How’s your arm?”

“What do you mean?”

Her hand paused momentarily in Medusa’s fur. “You were shot, remember?”

“Oh, that,” I said with a smirk. “Yeah, I already forgot about it.”

Her eyes did that thing where they shifted back and forth frantically as if I’d just said something crazy. “Isn’t getting shot painful?”

“Not at all. Now getting a shot . . . that’s the worst.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Any time I’ve been shot, it’s been in the middle of chaos. Adrenaline is high and I’m focused on killing someone, so it’s impossible to feel anything. You just feel your body jerk back from the speed of the bullet, but that’s it. But when you need a shot at the doctor’s office, you just have to sit there and wait for them to stick a big-ass needle in your skin. It’s the worst.”

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The Woman in the Pawnshop (Costa Family #13) Read Online Jessica Gadziala http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-woman-in-the-pawnshop-costa-family-13-read-online-jessica-gadziala Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:50:30 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/the-woman-in-the-pawnshop-costa-family-13-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Crime, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Costa Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >78

Years ago, he vanished before he could take his place in the organization.

Now he’s back—older, harder, and responsible for two kids who lost everything.

The family he left behind has moved on. The men he once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with had become bosses, while he’s stuck running cash pickups while he tries to earn his way back in.

But a routine stop at a pawnshop changes everything.

The woman behind the counter is everything he wants but can’t have: smart-mouthed, stubborn, and strong. Worse, his niece and nephew adore her.

He’s determined to stay away. But when she finds herself in the middle of the mystery and is violently attacked, he takes her in to help her heal as they try to figure out what someone might be willing to kill for…

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

Christopher

This place used to be as familiar to me as my own home. More so. Now, it felt like staring up at a stranger’s house.

I guess, in a way, it was.

I’d been gone for a long time.

I’d been so busy that I’d barely even kept in touch.

All these people I used to know as well as I knew myself might as well be strangers. Hell, I knew I was going to be just as much a stranger to them. So much had changed. I had changed. In more ways than I could even count. Sometimes, I barely even recognized myself.

The man I’d been the last time I stood looking up at this brownstone was so much younger. Hardened, yes, by this life, by the instability of the previous leadership. But lighter. Less weighed down by life.

I barely even knew what had gone down with the family since I’d been called away. I got the marriage and birth announcements. For women I’d never met. Whose stories I didn’t know.

I was still part enough of the organization that I got highlight reels here and there, mostly from the boss’s wife, Gigi, but that was it. I didn’t know shit about what had gone down with the business, who the major players were, or, it seemed, who some of the new members of the organization were.

Because I had no fucking idea who the guy standing guard at the door was.

He was a good-looking kid, everything about him screaming ‘mobster’: tall, fit, black hair, brown eyes, classic bone structure, and put together in a nice suit.

My own suit felt heavy and itchy. I once lived in them, wore them like a second skin. But it had been so long since I’d worn one. I felt like everyone could tell they didn’t quite belong on me anymore.

Finally clocking that I was looking a little too long, the guard glanced at me. “You got business here, get about it. Otherwise, get gone.”

My lips curved up slightly, remembering how things like that used to come out of my own mouth.

Fuck, it felt weird to be back.

“I need to see Lorenzo.”

“Yeah? I need a long weekend on a beach with Megan Fox. But that ain’t happening either. Fuck off.”

I stepped closer, watching the way his hand slipped into his jacket.

“Tell him Christopher is here to see him.”

“Christopher? That supposed to mean something?”

“It will to him.”

He watched me for a second before reaching to open the door, keeping his eye on me until he was inside.

It was maybe ten seconds later when the door flew open.

And there he was.

The capo dei capi of the New York mafia.

The last time I’d seen him, he’d just taken over for his old man.

He looked older, with some gray threading into his dark hair. Then again, I didn’t look the same either.

“Holy shit,” Lorenzo said, a smile breaking across his face. “I didn’t believe Nero when he said a Christopher was here. Man, what the fuck?”

He jogged down the steps toward me, then wrapped me up in a bear hug.

“Haven’t seen your face in fucking ages,” he said as we broke apart.

“Yeah. It’s… weird to be back.”

“Weird? To be back with family? Dunno if I like how that sounds. How have—”

“Boss,” the kid—Nero—called, “hate to be this guy, but you’re not supposed to be on the street right now.”

“Something going down?” I asked, feeling a surge of adrenaline that I hadn’t experienced in years. But there was something familiar and almost comforting about it. Maybe because it was a sign that my body did remember this, that it would all come back to me if I just gave it time.

“Always something,” he said, slapping my shoulder and leading me up the stairs to the brownstone. “Nero, this is Chris. He’s a, fuck, what is it? Second cousin once removed or some shit? Chris, this is Nero. One of Miko’s brothers.”

“Miko,” I repeated.

“Shit, yeah. You have been gone a while. Miko was an associate under Cosimo a while back. He’s a capo now. This fuck is hoping to get there one day.”

A whole new generation getting Made.

That should have been me years ago.

If life had gone differently.

I shook away those thoughts, trying not to let the feelings about being left behind take hold and root.

My life went differently.

Got sidetracked for a while.

I was getting it back on track now.

“Used to have your job,” I told Nero.

“Want it back?” he asked, shooting me a smirk.

Young and hungry.

I remembered those days.

I moved into the townhouse with a man who used to be like a brother to me.

It had been nothing like this the last time I’d been inside. Lorenzo had just started renovating when I left. It looked like a whole home now.

I could see his wife, Gigi, all around in the décor. And evidence of the kids all around: a half-built model car on the coffee table, a pile of children’s books on an end table, a forgotten single sock.

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Bound by Lies (Fatal Alliances #1) Read Online Lylah James http://www.ilovenovels.com/bound-read-online-lies-fatal-alliances-1-read-online-lylah-james Wed, 20 May 2026 17:52:05 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/bound-read-online-lies-fatal-alliances-1-read-online-lylah-james Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia Authors: Lylah James Series: Fatal Alliances Series by Lylah James
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Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >108

From Amazon bestselling author Lylah James comes a new dark, arranged-marriage romance about a mafia princess and the cruel man who did everything to ruin her in an effort to make her…his.

For the longest time, I had been a pawn between two empires built on blood.
I had been promised to Matteo, who was supposed to be my future.

But it was his brother who ruined me.

Adrian Salvatore—reckless, merciless, carved from sin and evil. The brother no one dared to control. The one who looked at me like I was always meant to be…his.

He stole my first kiss beneath the moonlight, right there at my engagement party.
And he never stopped.
Not when I begged.
Not when I threatened.

Until one night…

One mistake. One unforgivable moment that shattered everything I was raised to protect. My modesty, my virtue, my family’s honor.

Somehow I found myself bound to Adrian in ways I never wanted.

But he didn’t believe in love.
Everything he had ever done was driven by vengeance.

Adrian wasn’t going to protect me.
Instead, he had promised to break me.

Somewhere between the hate and fear became a reckless obsession.
And with that obsession came more destruction.
We were both damned, but only one of us would survive the monster we’d become.

BOUND BY LIES is book one in the dark and twisted FATAL ALLIANCES series. Please read the trigger warnings

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

Men have always controlled my life.

First my father.

Then my brother.

And soon my husband.

Every aspect of my existence was carefully orchestrated by them. What I wore, what I ate, where I went to school, and who my friends were.

I was the perfect and poised daughter of Caterina Morelli. The obedient daughter of Santino Morelli. The silent sister of Damon Morelli.

I was incapable of denying them. I never had the choice to say “no.”

They said walk; I walked. They said smile; I smiled. They said jump; I jumped. Even if it was jumping to my own ultimate, pitiful demise.

I merely lived in the shadows of the Morelli family. Usually, the forgotten one. The girl no one saw, so I lingered in the silence — my voice unheard and my heart woeful, until my dreams turned into decaying fragments.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and I saw haunted eyes staring back at me. A stranger, a cruel disguise. A decorated facade.

My mother died today. A fatal car accident that seemed too perfectly orchestrated. My father’s enemies were smart, and they were coming for our family with every intention to eradicate our whole lineage.

I should have felt something: heartbroken or devastated, but there was an emptiness gnawing at my soul.

“Serafina.”

The sound of my name in his gritty voice jostled me out of my thoughts. Damon appeared in the mirror’s reflection, towering over me. “You were taking too long,” he said, as if to explain why he was in the ladies’ washroom. Not that anyone would ever dare to stop him.

Damon Morelli always did what he wanted.

He touched the large bow on the side of my hat, fixing it so that it was no longer lopsided. “You have to present yourself better,” Damon admonished. “Mother has taught you better than this. You are to be sophisticated and refined, Serafina.”

I was being berated for a lopsided bow at my mother’s funeral.

Of course, there was no other choice than to be perfect.

“Yes,” I uttered quietly.

“This is your first public appearance in more than three years. Do not disappoint Father.” His hand slid down to my arm, wrapping his fingers around my bicep.

I nodded.

I knew the rules and consequences.

“Matteo is here and he’ll be seeing you for the first time. You are to impress him.”

I nodded again.

“Do you understand, Serafina?” He squeezed my bicep, not hard enough to leave a bruise but enough to make me inwardly flinch. Though, I showed no reaction to my brother.

Docile. Gentle. Compliant.

“Yes, I understand.”

Damon turned me around so I was facing him. I met his eyes through the black net veil attached to my expensive mourning hat.

My brother stared at me for a long second before he let go. When we walked out of the washroom, he offered me his arm, and I dutifully took it.

We would appear as one unit.

Brother and sister.

Two grieving siblings.

We walked into the church where dozens of faces from the New York Famiglie stared back at us. I kept my chin low, avoiding their deceptive eyes.

Gooseflesh peppered my skin and my lower spine tingled.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Damon and I took our places beside our father; I on his left and my brother on his right. The priest began his sermon after my father nodded in acknowledgment.

“We gather today with heavy hearts, in faith and in sorrow…”

His voice faded.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

My skin tingled again the way it did when I first walked into the church. Not because I knew the Famiglie were looking at me.

No—

Because I felt the warmth of his gaze before I could even see him.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A part of me wanted to turn around, to look for him. To meet his gaze with my own.

But I didn’t move.

I was Serafina Morelli.

Obedient. Graceful. Faithful.

The seconds ticked by, and I felt him. Watching me. Learning me. Tempting me.

There was something devious about this game of his.

He thought he was in control.

But he was wrong.

This was my story—

CHAPTER ONE

Serafina

My earliest recollection of a funeral was my grandfather's. I knew of him, that was all. He was practically a stranger to me. We never had a bond, but he loved my brother dearly. I always wondered why our grandfather never gave me any chocolate or hugs, as he would to Damon. Then, I grew older… I realized it was simply because I was a girl.

My worth was nothing in his eyes.

He wanted another grandson, a spare to the heir… but instead I was a liability. A hindrance to our lineage.

I was too young to remember much of his death. Being only knee high I was lost in the shuffle of the day, no one cared to check on me or see how I was doing. I had merely faded in the background.

But not today.

No, this time… I was more than just a shadow. I had a dozen sets of eyes on me.

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Daddy’s Atonement – Crime Boss Daddies Read Online Laylah Roberts http://www.ilovenovels.com/daddys-atonement-crime-boss-daddies-read-online-laylah-roberts Wed, 13 May 2026 18:52:24 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/daddys-atonement-crime-boss-daddies-read-online-laylah-roberts Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Biker, Contemporary, Crime, Erotic, MC Authors: Laylah Roberts Advertisement

Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 160192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >156

All her life she’d been trapped in a cage . . .
Some of them were better than others, but that didn’t matter when all she dreamed of was freedom.
However, dreams weren’t for people like her.
Angie only had nightmares.
People either abused or abandoned her.
Which is why she wasn’t going to believe the promises from a crime lord.
A Bartolli had ruined her life once. She couldn’t let that happen again.
No matter how sexy and protective he was.
Or now seductive and possessive his sub could be.
They would just have to find another girl to be Jared’s Little and North’s plaything, to love them.
Because love wasn’t for girls like her.

Please This book contains a super hot crime boss who is definitely in charge. Although his sub might try to argue that point. And both of them want our heroine as well as each other

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

Chicago

Five years ago . . .

His father was a dead man.

It was only a matter of time. With the lifestyle that bastard led it wouldn’t take long before he pickled his liver.

Or was murdered.

But as he looked at the extremely young, scared woman sitting across from him at the dining table, Jared felt like grabbing the steak knife off the table and stabbing it into his father’s fat, fucking throat himself.

Fuck, he wished North was here.

But his father didn’t believe in letting “the help” sit at the dining table. There was a definite divide in this household between “the help” and “the family.”

Jared longed to tell his father just what North meant to him . . . but he knew that would only put a target on North’s back.

North thought he could take care of himself.

However, Jared’s father was a fucking monster.

And Jared knew that he’d use anyone he loved against him. It was why he had to act like he didn’t care about his cousin, Tabby, while doing his best to keep her safe.

And why he couldn’t show that he was concerned about the young woman across from him.

The girl who his father had apparently fucking married.

Jared tightened his hand around his fork, then slowly eased his hold.

Do not show any reaction.

Do not show that you care.

The urge to murder him was almost too much for him to control. And while his father deserved to die, Jared wasn’t quite in a position to make that happen.

He was building up his own empire, without the old man’s knowledge, down in Colombia. His own team of men that worked for him because they wanted to.

Not out of fear.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t openly murder the bastard. Not without making too many waves in the family.

North had offered to sneak into his bedroom and slit his throat. But there was too much risk.

However, he needed to move up his timeline.

“Well?” Fergus said as he stabbed a piece of steak. “Don’t you have anything to say to your new stepmother?” He chortled after saying that.

As though everything was a big joke.

The girl flinched.

She looked hungry, haunted.

On her plate was a tiny serving of food. Some plain mashed potatoes and a few beans.

He didn’t blame her for not wanting to eat but that wasn’t enough.

“Don’t call her that,” he snapped and she jumped.

Regret filled him.

Jared hadn’t meant to scare her. The last thing he wanted was to add to her pain.

When his father told him eighteen months ago that he was getting married, Jared had felt sorry for the poor woman. But he’d also figured that she knew what she was getting into.

He hadn’t attended the wedding.

Hadn’t given her another thought.

Jared hadn’t had time to worry about what shit his father was getting up to.

But he should have known better.

He should have been keeping a closer eye on what his father was doing.

“How old are you?” He hadn’t meant to ask that, but the words just shot out of him.

She would be stunning if she didn’t look so terrified.

“N-nearly t-twenty-one.”

His father smiled. “Fucking hot, isn’t she? The young ones are just so . . . delicious. I can get you a young one, too. I’ve built up some nice connections.”

“I’ll let you know,” Jared said through gritted teeth.

Not fucking happening.

But appearances had to be kept.

He could not let his father know that behind the scenes, he was plotting to take him out.

It could be done.

It had to be.

For his sake.

For his cousin’s safety.

And for this abused and traumatized woman.

“We’ve got to get her free, North.”

Jared paced back and forth in the bedroom suite at his father’s sadistic torture venue.

Otherwise known as his home.

North knew he should have gone to dinner with Jared. What Jared didn’t understand is that he wasn’t scared of his father.

That disgusting pig didn’t intimidate him. Jared only had to give him the go-ahead and he’d happily slip into his bedroom and slit the bastard’s throat.

Easy-peasy.

He sharpened his knife as Jared paced back and forth. North was hoping he might notice and give him the nod.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >156

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White Ravens (Ravens #3) Read Online A.E. Via http://www.ilovenovels.com/white-ravens-ravens-3-read-online-a-e-via Wed, 13 May 2026 18:50:11 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/white-ravens-ravens-3-read-online-a-e-via Genre: Crime, M-M Romance, Suspense Authors: A.E. Via Series: Ravens Series by A.E. Via
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >109

Official Cover by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art coming in March 2026
Subject to Earlier Release

They are the program’s failure who should’ve never left the lab alive.

Once leaders of rival gangs on Chicago’s south and west sides, Damien Calloway and Gage Harrington are pulled from their prison cells and promised a second chance to be reborn as Frost and Shade, the newest weapons in the Raven Program.

But as the science collapses, the transformation fails, leaving their enhancements unstable, and their conditioning incomplete.
Declared defective, they’re locked away in White Sector 30, to await elimination.
When two warriors clad in green storm the facility, the Whites don’t see rescuers, they see executioners, and with raw skill and desperation, they seize their freedom.

Now Frost and Shade are two enemies forced together—hostile, untrusting, and on the run.
One a phantom of cold fury and the other a phenomenon who sees the world in all white, guided only by instinct and the voice of the man who had once vowed to kill him.
Their bond may be shaky, but their coordination is terrifying.

The Whites were never meant to exist...now they’re the ghosts haunting the organization that failed them.

Raven's Stand-in cover designed by AE Via
Book Credits White Raven Image - Pub 9/13/2023 Credit Vovashevchuk
White Forest View -(Canon, EOS 5D Mark II): Pub 1/20/2017: Credit Chiro PhotoNic

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Black Ravens

Meridian

The Pacific air tasted like copper and salt.

Meridian crouched low on the perimeter wall of the cliffside villa, pausing to allow the night’s darkness to consume him.

Ten acres of imported marble, onyx, and triple-paned bulletproof glass sprawled down the rocky terrain until it reached the surf—a luxurious fortress of corrupted wealth.

The frigid wind pushed his hood against his cheek but couldn’t cool the heat that lived under his skin.

Always to his right, his partner, Ex, lay still on the slate roof—one shadow melded into another—watching the patrol pacing beneath them.

“Four outside,” their handler, Corvo, informed them through their undetectable earpieces.

Meridian listened to the timing of the guards’ boots hitting the cobblestone. Counted the cadence of their inhalations and cataloged the exhales. They were both distracted in the way boredom made most perimeter security officers. Not enough discipline and too much confidence behind the high walls.

One was tall and gaunt with sunken cheeks. The other was short, thick-necked, and carried too much weight. The last two seemed younger in the way they kept shifting their rifles as if they didn’t know what to do with them.

Ex brushed his gloved hand twice over his forearm: Ready.

Meridian answered with one tap: Go.

And the two men separated like oil meeting water.

Ex ghosted across the roof in a blur, as Meridian slid to the edge, and dropped silently onto the landing.

The tall one turned his head a fraction too late.

Meridian slammed his palm over the startled man’s mouth, raised his head to expose his slim throat, then unsheathed, sliced, and ended.

His Sakimaru, stiletto, double-edged dagger—Whisper—rested comfortably in his palm, a thirty-inch stalker that never made a sound.

The body fell to his feet, and Meridian stepped over it, as if what he’d done wasn’t murder, but just removing an obstacle from his path.

Across the patio, Ex appeared behind his mark’s back. In two swift moves, he gripped the younger guy’s jaw, cupped his other hand across the back of the neck, and wrenched it hard to the left, snapping the bone like dry timber.

He lowered the officer’s lanky body into the shrubbery as if he’d simply fallen asleep.

Meridian was already behind the pudgy one, who had the audacity to be scrolling on his phone. Unaware and unprepared. He deserved death.

He wrapped him in a chokehold that cut his voice, then his breath. Five seconds of resisting, ten until the pulse slowed, twenty to be sure before he let go.

The fourth one turned and Ex was there, blade in hand, and delivered one upward puncture beneath the rib cage. The guard’s last breath left his throat in a wet question of confusion.

The entrance to the villa was a display of indulgent taste bought with dirty money. Everything shone and reflected. Thankfully, his hood cut the shimmering down to a tolerable annoyance.

A long hallway, overcrowded with abstract art, led to a great room. Music mixed with the laughter and the moans of women came from somewhere deeper inside.

They crept in silence across the imported rugs, their heads on a swivel despite the confirmation from their handler that no other guards were present inside.

They paused at the archway of the primary suite, that had a sitting area and a massive bed on a raised platform covered in silk linens and naked women.

Their mark, Graham Graves—a prior Ravens investor, arms dealer, and plague in the US—lounged in the center of the bed, eyes closed, with his arms wrapped around two women’s waists, his mouth full of another woman’s breast, and the fourth kneeling between his legs.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >109

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The Death Dealer (Love Like A Loaded Gun #1) Read Online Jenika Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-death-dealer-love-like-a-loaded-gun-1-read-online-jenika-snow Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:09:27 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-death-dealer-love-like-a-loaded-gun-1-read-online-jenika-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia Authors: Jenika Snow Series: Love Like A Loaded Gun Series by Jenika Snow
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Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >52

They call me The Death Dealer.

Fifty-five years old. Silver in my hair, violence in my eyes, and twenty-six years of vengeance carved into every scar.

I was paid five million to erase Markom Ivanov, the man who filmed my mother dying when I was seventeen.

I walked into his palace ready to paint the walls with his blood.

Then I saw her.

Anya.

His twenty-three-year-old daughter.

Icy-blue eyes, ivory skin, and a pulse that beat faster the closer I got.

One look and the death in my veins became useless.

I took her instead.

Now she’s naked and my captive. She was meant to be my revenge. She’s becoming the only thing I’ve ever been afraid to lose. But I’d never let her know. I’d never let her see that weakness.

I’ll hunt her if she runs. I’ll burn Moscow to ash if anyone tries to take her from me.

Because the monster hired to kill a king just stole his princess, and a man like me didn’t let go of the one thing that finally made him feel humanThey call me The Death Dealer.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Dmitry

Iwalked through the side door of the gutted cathedral at three in the morning and felt the Moscow wind slice straight through my coat.

Fifty-five winters in this frigid city had taught me the cold wasn’t an enemy anymore. It was the only thing that still felt honest.

Snow hissed against the broken rose window, against the saints whose faces had been shot out by drunks or soldiers or both. One candle burned on the cracked marble altar, throwing weak gold designs that didn’t reach the corners.

That was where Viktor Lebedev waited. He didn’t turn when my boots crunched over shattered glass. He wore a black cashmere coat, collar turned up, and had his gloved hands clasped behind his back like a saint who’d traded salvation for sin.

He finally turned and faced me. The scar that split his face from his right ear to the corner of his mouth caught the candlelight and looked even more distorted.

“Ty opozdal,” he said without looking. You’re late.

“Ya nikogda ne opazdyvayu,” I answered. I’m never late.

He laughed, low and harsh. Viktor was sixty-two years old and still hungry enough to kill for a bigger throne. He took two steps toward me and held out a photograph.

I looked at the man staring at the lens, face stoic, bloodlust in his eyes.

Andrey Ivanov.

Fifty-eight. Fat jowls, beady black eyes, and the same shark smile I’d memorized the year this man’s daughter was still in diapers.

“Pyat' millionov amerikanskikh. Polovina segodnya perevodom. Polovina kogda on perestanet dyshat',” Viktor said. Five million American. Half today by transfer. Half when he stops breathing.

I didn’t touch the picture. I’d carried that face behind my eyes for thirty-eight years. I knew every pore, every wrinkle. I knew the stench of rot that clung to him like cheap cologne. It was the same rot that had filled that basement all those years ago.

“Ya ne delayu tselyye tela,” I told him. “Ya delayu chasti. Vyberi chast’, kotoruyu khochesh’ v podarochnoy upakovke.” I don’t do whole bodies. I do pieces. Pick the part you want gift-wrapped.

Viktor’s scar twitched, but other than that, his expression remained still as stone. “Khorosho. Yazyk, togda. On lzhet slishkom mnogo.” Fine. The tongue, then. He lies too much.

I almost smiled.

They’d called me The Death Dealer since I walked out of a basement with five dead men’s fingers lined up in a cigar case.

Thirty-five years of taking souvenirs.

“Prezhde chem ya soglashus’,” I said, “ya khochu koe-chto.” Before I agree, I want something.

“Ty ne v polozhe—” You’re in no⁠—

“Ya vsegda v polozhenii, chtoby uyti.” I’m always in a position to walk.

Viktor’s eyes narrowed, calculating. Finally, he took the drive and pocketed it and the photograph. “Chё tebe nado?” What do you want?

“Ya ego zamochu za tebya, no informatsiya tol'ko u nego. Mne nado vytyanut' yeyo pered tem, kak ub'yu, tak chto mozhet zatyanut'sya dol'she tvoego dedlayna.” I'll kill him for you, but I need information that only he has. I have to get it out of him before I take him out, so this might take more time than your deadline.

The words came out flat. Just facts, like reciting a grocery list written in blood.

Viktor studied me for a long second before he responded. “Ladno. Glavnoe, chtoby delo bylo sdelano, delai s nim chto khochesh'.” Fine. As long as you get the job done, do with him what you want.

I nodded once. Viktor was old school and produced the contract. It was on thick cream paper, already signed in Viktor’s spidery Cyrillic. I took my knife and sliced the pad of my thumb, pressing it to the paper in a perfect, bloody print beside my name: Dmitry Myasnikov.

But to the world, I had no legal name. I was known to those unfortunate to have heard of my reputation as just The Death Dealer.

My cell buzzed with the first wire transfer. I’d get the rest once the job was done.

“Gala zavtra vecherom,” Viktor said. “Rublyovka dacha. Chornyy galstuk. Ya organizoval formu ofitsianta. Okhrana strozhe, chem pizda devstvennitsy, no ty proskochish’.” Gala tomorrow night. Rublyovka dacha, Andrey’s estate. Black tie. I arranged a waiter’s uniform. Security’s tighter than a virgin’s cunt, but you’ll ghost through.

I said nothing after his crude instructions, and turned to leave.

“Yeshchyo odno, Dima.” One more thing, Dima.

The nickname dug deep. I paused under the broken arch.

“U Andreya yest’ doch’. Zoya. Dvadtsat’ tri. Simpatichnaya shtuchka. Izbalovannaya. Esli ona vstanet u tebya na puti—” Andrey has a daughter. Zoya. Twenty-three. Pretty little thing. Spoiled. If she gets in your way⁠—

“Ya ne ubivayu zhenshchin.” I don’t kill women.

“Ya i ne prosil tebya,” he said, smiling thinly. “Prosto ne day yey sdelat’ tebya glupym. Krasivyye veshchi tak vliyayut na muzhchin tvoyego vozrasta.” I wasn’t asking you to. Just don’t let her make you stupid. Pretty things do that to men your age.

Fifty-five years old and the words still landed like a boot to the ribs. Pretty things. Just like my mother when they broke her on camera. I walked out without answering.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >52

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Series Starter (Love Like A Loaded Gun #0.5) Read Online Jenika Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/series-starter-love-like-a-loaded-gun-0-5-read-online-jenika-snow Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:09:26 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/series-starter-love-like-a-loaded-gun-0-5-read-online-jenika-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia Authors: Jenika Snow Series: Love Like A Loaded Gun Series by Jenika Snow
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Total pages in book: 2
Estimated words: 1411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 7(@200wpm)___ 6(@250wpm)___ 5(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 >2

Moscow belonged to the Bratva.

Behind the city’s glittering wealth lied a brutal empire built on loyalty, blood, and power. The men who ruled it were kings in the shadows, feared by their enemies, and obeyed by the soldiers who enforced their will.

But power inside the Bratva was shifting.
Old codes were breaking. New enemies were rising. And the contracts being written now would change everything.
Enter the dangerous world of Love Like a Loaded Gun, where loyalty was tested, power was taken in blood, and love was the most dangerous weapon of all.
The war was only beginning

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

The man had been begging for almost ten minutes when I finally told them to stop.

The warehouse fell silent except for the slow drip of water somewhere in the dark. A single light hung above the center of the room, casting a harsh circle over the concrete floor where the bound man knelt. Blood stained the front of his shirt, and his voice had turned hoarse from repeating the same promises.

He swore he would fix things, that the money would come, and that his mistake would never happen again.

I listened without expression.

At sixty-two, I’d heard every excuse a desperate man could offer. The jagged scar that ran from my ear to the corner of my mouth twisted slightly when I spoke, a permanent reminder of the knife fight decades ago that had nearly killed me.

“Enough,” I said quietly.

That was the cost of doing business in my world. Debts were honored, loyalty was enforced, and betrayal had consequences.

A single gunshot cracked through the warehouse, and his body slumped forward. I looked at the soldier who’d finished the job.

I rose from the metal folding chair and adjusted the cuff of my coat.

“Clean this up,” I said. “You know where to leave the body.”

Outside, the night air of Moscow was sharp and cold. The city stretched beyond the industrial district in a glittering skyline of glass towers and golden domes, beautiful enough to fool anyone who didn’t know what lived beneath it.

Because Moscow belonged to the Bratva.

Behind the wealth and power of the city ran a darker empire built on loyalty, blood, and secrets that could destroy governments. Politicians bowed to us behind closed doors. Judges forgot cases when asked. Police departments learned quickly which investigations were better left unfinished.

We weren’t a gang.

We were an empire.

And I was one of the men who ruled it.

The car waiting for me idled quietly along the curb. When I stepped inside, the driver pulled into traffic without a word, merging onto the empty road and weaving through the city.

Moscow at night was alive in ways most people never noticed. Restaurants overflowed while music pulsed through crowded nightclubs.

But beneath the surface, the city moved to another rhythm entirely.

Money was collected for illicit drugs, weapons, and favors. Crimes were discussed and deals made in the shadows. Political favors traded behind closed doors. Entire industries bending slowly under the influence of men who never appeared in public headlines.

The Bratva moved through the city like blood through veins, unseen but vital.

This was the part no one ever saw, the part that kept everything from collapsing.

Later that night, I sat at the head of a long table inside my private club. The room smelled like leather, vodka, and quiet violence.

The men seated around the table were the kind who ruled cities without ever appearing on a ballot. They’d earned their place by how much blood they’d spilled.

Each member at this table controlled territory and revenue streams that stretched far beyond Moscow.

And tonight the air between them was tight enough to snap.

I studied the men in front of me before speaking.

“Something rotten has crept into our house.” The words settled heavily over the table.

Across the room, a captain shifted in his chair while another stared down into the untouched vodka in front of him. They all knew what I meant, even if the name hadn’t yet been spoken.

Andrey Ivanov.

I had built my empire the old way. Through blood, loyalty, and a code that existed long before Moscow’s modern skyline rose above the city. When the Soviet Union collapsed and chaos swallowed the country whole. But power came with rules.

The Bratva had to remain disciplined if it wanted to survive. Violence was necessary, but it had to remain controlled and strategic. Quiet enough that the outside world never saw the machinery behind the city’s glittering facade.

Some lines were never meant to be crossed.

“You mean Ivanov,” one of the captains said carefully.

I lifted my gaze. “Yes.”

The name spread across the room like smoke. Ivanov was a creature of the post-Soviet chaos, a man who had grown rich exploiting the cracks left behind when the world fell apart.

Where I built influence through weapons shipments and political leverage, Ivanov built his empire on something far darker.

Trafficking.

Women stolen from broken towns and war zones. Girls promised modeling contracts or jobs overseas. Runaways who vanished from train stations and border crossings.

They disappeared into Ivanov’s world and were never seen again.

Private auctions, underground clubs, and wealthy buyers who treated human lives like luxury purchases to be used and discarded.

Flesh trafficking was dirty work, and it was tarnishing everything we’d built.

And if that wasn’t enough, Ivanov had another business whispered about in the darkest corners of the underworld.

Snuff films.

Only the truly sick and depraved admitted to watching them.

These were recordings of suffering, carefully staged horrors sold on encrypted networks to wealthy collectors across the globe. Every detail customized. Every victim disposable.

<<<<1 2 >2

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Protecting Anastasia Read Online Sam Crescent http://www.ilovenovels.com/protecting-anastasia-read-online-sam-crescent Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:50 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/protecting-anastasia-read-online-sam-crescent Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Mafia Authors: Sam Crescent Advertisement

Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >33

Dmitriy Fedulov was known as the ghost devil. He was who the head of the Gnesin Bratva sent when they wanted to annihilate. He killed all enemies, and he did so without remorse. Until her.

Anastasia Babkin defied her family and refused to marry a cruel man. As punishment, she was thrown out, forced to live on her own, far away from the Bratva. She knew the risks. It was why she stayed all alone.

When Dmitriy was sent, he didn’t kill her. Instead, he kept her safe. He felt nothing for no one, until he met Anastasia. She was unlike other women. She was different, and he couldn’t bring himself to kill her.

The orders from Gnesin didn’t sit well with Dmitriy. When he demands a meeting, and it goes silent, he knows something is wrong. When the enemy comes hunting him down, it's only a matter of time before the Bratva falls.

Anastasia doesn’t know who ordered the kill on her family. She has fallen in love with her savior. But, will they be able to survive? Is the leader of the Bratva still alive? Will he let them live? Or is it just one big betrayal?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Dmitriy Fedulov glanced down at his cell phone and gritted his teeth. Nikolai Gnesin was pushing on his last nerve. If he wasn’t careful, all the soldiers and people that followed him would turn on him, as he now wanted the Thompsons completely annihilated. In the last six months, that would be the fifth family his boss wanted eradicated. This started with the Babkins.

He was no stranger to death or to killing. It was his job. For as long as he could remember, he had killed. He had killed his own parents, but they had been sick fucks and deserved every ounce of pain. There were rumors he was a man who could not feel pain. That he had no feelings. He was worse than the Devil, because at least the Devil showed mercy.

Up until six months ago, Dmitriy had never shown any kind of mercy. He was told who to kill, and that was exactly what he did. He killed without mercy and without remorse. He got the job done.

That all changed when he was given the order to remove the Babkins. There was nothing special about the Babkin family. They were quite large, and when it was annihilation, that meant from the head of the family down to the child. Again, it didn’t bother him to do just that. Only, there was a tiny detail he had never told anyone.

Anastasia Babkin.

She was nothing special, at least he hadn’t thought so. A few years ago, he had seen her at a few parties. She didn’t mingle and stood in her own little corner, trying to be as invisible as possible, which made her different to other women her age. At the time, she had been eighteen, and she wasn’t eighteen anymore.

Rumor had it she embarrassed her father and as a result, she was cast out. One day, she simply stopped coming to parties, or even appearing as a family member. For all intents and purposes, she was an outcast.

He shouldn’t have been curious. In fact, he shouldn’t have even cared. Nothing involved with the Gnesin Bratva was his business. It was as simple as that.

Only, he hadn’t let it go.

Instead, he had gone looking for Anastasia. What he discovered had surprised him. She wasn’t living on the streets, but surviving. She had gotten a nine-to-five job at a local artisan supermarket, and in her free time worked at a kennel. She had a small apartment, nothing flashy, and she didn’t have a constant stream of boyfriends. Anastasia had left the life, and Dmitriy found it peaceful to just sit back and watch her.

Then the order had come in.

Death.

He should have killed her. For a few days, if not a whole week, he had wrestled with this decision. He could have left it. Pretended to have killed her, but instead he told Gnesin the job was done, and she was dead. Then he stole her in the night, kidnapped her, took her to one of his secure locations, and told her that her life was in his hands. Since then, he had been taking care of her. He continued to do his job. No one was the wiser.

He didn’t have feelings about anyone. Dmitriy kept expecting the tide to turn, for him to realize the error of his ways, and just get the job done. Kill her. It was what needed to be done. Only, he wasn’t doing it. Far from it.

He liked going home. Anastasia was ... perfect. She was peaceful, and she didn’t make any demands. But there was also the problem that he wanted her.

She was twenty-five years old, had her whole life ahead of her. He could have any woman he wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to be with anyone else. There was only one woman he wanted, and it was driving him crazy to be the perfect gentleman.

Gripping his cell phone tightly, he reread the message, which was clear. Another family was on the chopping block, and the one thing he had come to know about Gnesin was if he didn’t get the job done soon, there would be a problem. He would hire amateurs.

Something wasn’t right with Gnesin. People whispered it was drugs. Others said he was going crazy.

The Gnesin Bratva was feared. The members were loyal, and not because he killed them all, and everyone lived in fear. At least, he fucking hoped it wasn’t.

He ran a hand down his face. Something had to be done. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be a Bratva. Taking out bloodlines wiped out generations of people following the Gnesin rule. In the past six months, his wealth had started to deplete.

Dmitriy rarely saw him. Most of his communication was done via cell phone, and right now, it was starting to piss him off. Pulling out his cell phone, he made a response, demanding an audience with Gnesin, and once he did that, he waited one single minute and was surprised not to get a response. There was not going to be any more killing until he talked to Gnesin himself. He was done making the Gnesin Bratva weak.

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