Not Yours To Claim, My Mafia Ex

In the dark hotel room, two bodies were tangled in the haze of desire, skin on skin, breath against breath. The air was permeated with the scent of sex and passion. A soft moan escaped the woman’s lips—barely audible, yet familiar enough to slice through Damien’s intoxicated fog.

His brows furrowed.

No.

He knew that voice.

In a swift, almost panicked movement, his hand shot toward the lamp on the nightstand. But before he could flick the switch, a delicate voice whispered through the darkness.

"Ah—no, don’t turn on the light."

Damien frowned.

"You," he snarled, jaw tightening as he flicked the switch anyway. The sudden light flooded the room, and his gaze locked onto the familiar face beneath him—while he was still buried deep inside her.

His hand snapped up to her chin, gripping it roughly. Pain flared beneath his touch, but the woman only smiled—slow, sultry, and unbothered.

“Do you not want me, Mr. Blackwood?”

Arching her back, she rolled her hips deliberately, and he hissed as her tight heat clung to him like a vice. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to stop—but he couldn’t. His fury was tangled with desire, and the combination made his blood boil.

His gaze burned with rage, but lust roared louder in his veins.

“You’re going to regret this, Amelia,” he bit out, voice low and dark.

Without warning, he shoved her legs over his shoulders and slammed into her—hard, relentless, punishing. The bed creaked beneath their force. Moans filled the room, hers laced with pleasure and seduction, his with a mixture of anger and need.

He didn’t stop. Not when she cried out. Not when her nails raked down his back. Not even when her body finally gave out beneath him, trembling and exhausted after countless rounds of rough, relentless sex. She slipped into unconsciousness with a soft sigh, her body limp in his grasp.

But Damien kept moving.

Only when he spilled himself inside her with a guttural groan did he finally collapse beside her.

The next morning, Amelia found herself in Damien’s strong arms. She bit her lip, her eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face. Damien Blackwood—the enigmatic underworld don and…

…her ex-husband.

Even in sleep, he looked effortlessly powerful, dangerously handsome. There was something about him—his quiet dominance, the mystery in his eyes—that drew women to him like moths to a flame. Any woman would have killed to be in his bed.

She still remembered the day she first saw him; she was twelve years old, visiting her grandfather’s childhood friend, who was also his boss at the time. When her eyes landed on an eighteen-year-old Damien Blackwood, she couldn’t get them off him; he looked like a prince coming out of her dreams, so beautiful. So when she was married to him at the age of eighteen, she felt like the luckiest girl alive. But slowly, she realized that luck was never in her favour, as he made it clear on their wedding night that he loved someone else and would never share her bed. Touching her was never an option.

Still, she tried.

She tried to win his heart, clinging to the hope that time might soften him. That something—anything—could change.

Until the night when every fragile line between them was erased.

When Damien woke the next morning and found himself naked in bed with her, his fury was beyond anything she had ever seen. Convinced that Amelia had drugged him to sleep with her, Damien threw her out of his house, handed her divorce papers without giving her a chance to explain, and had his men force her to leave the country.

Only then did Amelia truly realize the depth of his hatred.

She had never planned to return—not to this city, and certainly not to the man who took everything from her: her home, her family, her life… and left her with nothing but pain and heartbreak.

And she wouldn’t have—if fate hadn’t left her with no other choice.

She sighed, swallowing the lump of nervousness in her throat, and gently tried to untangle herself from his arms. But instead of loosening, his arms only tightened around her. Her heart thudded with terror as his angry eyes slowly opened, glaring at her with pure fury and hatred.

“Why did you do this?”

His threatening growl made her flinch slightly before she quickly regained her composure. With a slow, seductive smile, she looked into his eyes.

“For money. What else?” she purred in a sensual voice.

Damien’s jaw clenched, his eyes filled with disgust.

"Still playing the same games, huh? Taking advantage of drunk men and sleeping with them for money? Is that your new way of making a living?" he taunted coldly.

Amelia’s heart ached at his words, but she masked the pain behind a flawless expression, her smile never faltering.

“Sorry—I didn’t know you were my next client," she said casually, her tone light and indifferent. But her heart was racing with fear, knowing she was speaking recklessly to a ruthless mafia king who could kill her at any moment.

Damien’s eyes narrowed, irritation flashing in them.

What the hell did she mean?

Was she implying she had planned to sleep with someone else that night?

“What a slut you are!” he snarled, his hand suddenly wrapping around her neck with enough force to make her think he might snap it in one swift motion.

Fear flashed across Amelia’s face, but she masked it quickly and tried her luck one last time.

“Mr. Blackwood… just make the payment, and I promise you’ll never see me again.”

Payment.

His expression darkened with fury.

“What’s your fucking price per fuck?” he spat, attacking her dignity with venom in his voice.

Amelia swallowed the sting of his words. She had expected hatred from him—brutal and merciless. And now that she had what she came for, she just needed to get out before he started to suspect anything.

“Ten grand,” she said coldly, grabbing her phone from the nightstand with a steady hand as his grip on her neck finally loosened.

She opened the scanner, keeping her expression unreadable, even as her heart pounded in her chest.

His face remained unreadable as he completed the payment on his phone. Moments later, Amelia’s screen lit up with a notification— twenty thousand euros is credited to your account.

“Wow,” she giggled and her tone remained light and teasing. “You paid double.”

Damien’s voice was cold and sharp.

“Ten for last night. Ten for this morning.”

Before she could even process what he said, he grabbed her by the waist and rolled her onto her back, thrusting into her hard and deep. A flicker of pain crossed Amelia’s face—her body was still sore from the night before—but she quickly masked it with a seductive smile.

She let out a soft moan, whispering his name between gasps, her voice dripping with temptation. It was enough to provoke him, enough to make him lose what little restraint he had left.

Damien’s jaw tightened, and his thrusts grew rougher—merciless and punishing.

After he was done with her, Amelia lay on the bed, feeling like there wasn’t a single bone left in her body. God, his stamina was unreal—almost inhuman.

Damien got up from the bed, still completely naked, and walked into the shower without glancing back at her. The sound of running water soon filled the room.

Amelia slowly pushed herself up, her body trembling as she reached for her clothes. Her hands shook as she dressed quickly. She had to get out—before he came back.

When the Italian Don returned and found that his ex-wife had left without his permission, his fury ignited even further.

No one dared betray him and walk away alive.