Dumped By My Ex,Claimed By The Mafia Don

The champagne was for our anniversary. The breakup was for everyone else to see. "Elena, let's be honest. What could you ever give me?" My boyfriend of three years — no, my ex boyfriend — Jason held the microphone on the rooftop like he was giving a business pitch. His other hand was wrapped tightly around my best friend. Maya. Three years I paid his rent. Cooked for him. Supported his startup when his own mother called him a failure. "I love Maya now," he announced to our entire group of friends. "She has connections. She has a future." He looked right at me. "You? You're just... sweet. But sweet doesn't pay bills, Elena." The laughter is what killed me. Maya giggling into his neck. Wearing the necklace I thought he'd bought for me. For three years I was sweet. Sweet was done. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I picked up the anniversary cake I had carried across Lagos in traffic for two hours — vanilla, his favorite — and I smashed it right into his expensive white shirt. Cream and sponge exploded all over him. The rooftop went silent. "Then I hope her connections can get that stain out," I said. My voice was shaking, but everyone heard it. And I ran. I didn't stop running until I was three streets away. My cheap heels broken in my hand. My mascara running. My dress ruined. Humiliated. Completely, utterly dumped. The bar I stumbled into was nothing like the rooftop. It was dark. Expensive. Silent. The kind of place where men in suits didn't look like businessmen. They looked like killers. "Bottle of the strongest thing you have," I told the bartender, slumping onto a stool. "And make it quick." "You shouldn't be here, little girl." The voice came from behind me. Low. Italian accent. Dangerous. I turned. And forgot how to breathe. He was tall. Black tailored suit that couldn't hide the muscle underneath. Sharp jaw. Cold grey eyes. A scar cutting through his left eyebrow. He looked at me like I was a problem he had already decided to solve. Lorenzo De Luca. Even I had heard the name. The Don who owned half of Lagos. The man you didn't say no to. "I'm having a bad night," I snapped, wiping my tears angrily. "Don't add to it." His eyes dropped. To my broken heels. My ruined dress. The mascara on my cheeks. Something dark and possessive flashed in them. "Who made you cry?" His voice was suddenly ice. "No one." "Don't lie to me, tesoro." That command. My knees went weak. He stepped closer. Too close. He smelled like expensive cologne and pure danger. "Your ex?" He tilted his head. "The one on the rooftop? I saw it all." I laughed. It sounded broken. "My ex dumped me for my best friend in front of everyone. Said I'm not good enough. That I'm just... sweet. So yes. I'm not good enough for anyone." That was the wrong thing to say. In one second, he moved. His large hand — warm, with a black ink tattoo on his knuckles — tilted my chin up. Forced me to look at him. "Listen to me." His grey eyes were burning into mine. "You were never not good enough. He was just too blind to see what was in front of him. Too stupid to see he had a treasure." "Tesoro?" "Treasure," he whispered, his lips inches from mine. "Mine." My heart was pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. "What do you want from me?" I whispered. He smiled. It was terrifying. And beautiful. "I want to ruin him for you." He leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear. "I want to take you out of that cheap dress, put you in something that actually deserves you, and walk you back into that party on my arm." My breath caught. "I want to watch your ex's face when he realizes he just gave away the only woman I have ever wanted." I should have said no. I should have run. But for the first time tonight, someone was looking at me like I was priceless. Like I was worth a war. "And what do you get in return?" My voice was barely there. His eyes dropped to my lips. Darkened. "You. For tonight." His thumb brushed the tear off my cheek. Possessive. Slow. "You forget him. You let me make you forget everything. You let me claim you for one night." He pulled out his phone and spoke one word in Italian. Within seconds, a woman appeared with a garment bag. "Go," he told me. "Change." My hands were shaking as I took the bag. Inside was a red silk dress. It cost more than my entire year's rent. When I came out, Lorenzo's reaction made my entire body shiver. His fists clenched. His jaw tightened. "Dio," he muttered hoarsely. "He was a fool. A complete fool." He offered me his hand. A hand that could kill a man. A hand that was now offering to save me. "One night, Elena," he said, his voice dark and final. "Let me claim you for one night. And I promise you, by morning, your ex will be on his knees begging for the woman he threw away." I looked at his hand. I thought of Jason's laugh. Maya's smug smile. I placed my hand in his. "Make them regret it," I whispered. His smile turned possessive. Dangerous. Final. He pulled me against his hard chest. His lips brushed my ear and I felt his entire body go tense with want. "Oh, tesoro," he growled. "I will make sure no man on this earth ever forgets that you belong to me now." He didn't know my name. I never told him. But as he led me out of the bar and into his black Maybach, with two bodyguards bowing their heads for us, I had a terrifying thought. Maybe I had just escaped one hell... Only to be claimed by a more dangerous one.