MXian Writes
6 Published Stories
MXian Writes's Books and Stories
The Cali Alpha [Mafia Games 5]
Werewolf Jessiah is a make-up artist aspiring to break into the modeling and beauty industry. She moves to LA when she lands a job at one of the biggest production companies in Hollywood.
On her first week on the job, she meets Jenson Ross, a big-deal actor and director with a dark secret only a privileged few know about.
× Genres: Contemporary Romance, Werewolf, Crime, Drama
× Rating: PG-15
EXCERPT:
EXCERPT from BOOK I
_ _ _
"Dollface," he murmured with a little smirk. Now his hand gripped her forearm. He snickered when she only kept staring, then pulled her closer to hug her. "You're like an antidepressant, in human form."
The utter surprise paused her breathing. She couldn't pull away. Her heartbeat sped up when he hugged her tighter. His warm face pressed onto the side of her neck, his hand lightly squeezing her hip.
His beard scraped her skin, his thighs touched hers, and she felt like he was kissing her neck. Shit. He was no longer thinking straight. Perhaps unaware of the consequences of his actions.
It was moments like this that worsened her intense attraction to him. The flirty jokes, the easy conversations, the small smiles, his furtive glances, and his unusually sweet gestures lately just convinced her she was definitely in deep trouble.
Amid her loud thoughts, he pulled her closer whenever she pulled away. Her breathing grew shallow while she stared into his eyes.
"Dammit," he sighed while he gripped her arms. Then his thumb traced the curve of her neck and shoulder, his touch both gentle and eager. "Why are you always so f-cking beautiful?"
"Joss—"
"What?" he muttered while stroking her cheek. He wasn't acting drunk or just playing with her. Otherwise he wouldn't let it get this far. "You want me to stop?"
_ You might like
Stripper's Love: I Married My Ex's Uncle
G~Aden I'm a moaning mess as Antonio slams into me from behind. His hips hit me hard, and each deep thrust sends shockwaves through my body.
My breasts bounce with every movement, my eyes roll back, and I moan his name without control. The pleasure he gives me is overwhelming-I can't hold it in.
I feel my walls tighten around his thick length. The pressure builds fast, and then-
I explode around him, my orgasm tearing through me. He groans loud and deep as he releases inside me, his hot seed spilling into me in thick pulses.
Just when I think he's done, his grip shifts. He turns me over and lays me flat on the bed. His dark eyes stare into mine for a moment, filled with raw hunger. I glance down-
He's still hard.
Before I can react, he grabs my wrists, pins me down, and pushes himself inside me again. He fills me completely. My hips rise on instinct, meeting his rhythm. Our bodies move together, locked in a wild, uncontrollable dance.
"You're fucking sweet," he groans, his voice rough and breathless.
"I can't get enough of you... not after that night, Sol," he growls, slamming into me harder. The force of his words and his thrusts make my body shake.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice low and full of heat.
And just like that, my body trembles. Waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out, shaking with the force of my orgasm.
"Mine," he growls again, louder this time. His voice is feral, wild, like a beast claiming what belongs to him. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.
***
Solene was betrayed, humiliated, and erased by Rowan Brook, the man she once called husband, Solene is left with nothing but her name and a burning hunger for revenge.
She turns to the one man powerful enough to destroy the Brooks family from within: Rowan's estranged and dangerous uncle, Antonio Rodriguez.
He's ruthless. A playboy who never sleeps with the same woman twice. But when Solene walks into his world, he doesn't just break the rules, he creates new ones just for her.
What begins as a calculated game quickly spirals into obsession, power plays, and secrets too deadly to stay buried. Because Solene isn't just anyone's ex... she's the woman they should've never underestimated.
Can she survive the price of revenge? Or will her heart become the next casualty?
And when the truth comes out, will Antonio still choose her... or destroy her?
Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Gavin I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Left To Drown: The Heiress's Cold Departure
Gavin I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history.
But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me.
He swam past me.
He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water.
When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl.
"You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home."
Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her.
I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife."
He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps.
He was wrong.
While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room.
I was packing his ring into a cardboard box.
I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead.
By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession. He Saved Her, I Lost Our Child
Gavin For three years, I kept a secret ledger of my husband's sins.
A point system to decide exactly when I would leave Blake Santos, the ruthless Underboss of Chicago.
I thought the final straw would be him forgetting our anniversary dinner to comfort his "childhood friend," Ariana.
I was wrong.
The real breaking point came when the restaurant ceiling collapsed.
In that split second, Blake didn't look at me. He dove to his right, shielding Ariana with his body, leaving me to be crushed under a half-ton crystal chandelier.
I woke up in a sterile hospital room with a shattered leg and a hollow womb.
The doctor, trembling and pale, told me my eight-week-old fetus hadn't survived the trauma and blood loss.
"We tried to get the O-negative reserves," he stammered, refusing to meet my eyes. "But Dr. Santos ordered us to hold them. He said Miss Whitfield might go into shock from her injuries."
"What injuries?" I whispered.
"A laceration on her finger," the doctor admitted. "And anxiety."
He let our unborn child die to save the blood reserves for his mistress’s paper cut.
Blake finally walked into my room hours later, smelling of Ariana’s perfume, expecting me to be the dutiful, silent wife who understood his "duty."
Instead, I picked up my pen and wrote the final entry in my black leather book.
*Minus five points. He killed our child.*
*Total Score: Zero.*
I didn't scream. I didn't cry.
I just signed the divorce papers, called my extraction team, and vanished into the rain before he could turn around. The Waitress Is Actually The Mafia Queen
Gavin I spent a year scrubbing floors in my fiancé’s club, hiding my identity as the daughter of the Capo dei Capi.
I needed to know if Connor Bishop was a King worth merging empires with, or just a puppet.
The answer came walking in wearing a neon pink dress.
Jaden Juarez, a civilian he was infatuated with, didn't just treat me like a servant; she deliberately poured scalding espresso over my hand because I refused to be her valet.
The pain was blinding, my skin blistering instantly.
I video-called Connor, showing him the burn, expecting him to enforce the code of our world.
Instead, seeing his investors watching, he panicked.
He chose to sacrifice me to save face.
"Get on your knees," he roared through the speaker. "Beg her pardon. Show her the respect she deserves."
He wanted the daughter of the most dangerous man on the East Coast to kneel to his mistress.
He thought he was showing strength.
He didn't realize he was looking at a woman who could burn his entire world to ash with a single phone call.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
I simply hung up the phone and locked the kitchen doors.
Then, I dialed the one number everyone in the underworld feared.
"Dad," I said, my voice cold as steel. "Code Black. Bring the papers."
"And send the wolves." He Chose The Mistress, Losing His True Queen
Gavin I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed. He Betrayed Me, Now He Begs
Gavin For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." From Mafia Wife to Rival's Queen
Gavin After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field.
But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me.
Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.
"Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk."
It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family.
The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him—all dismissed as "just business."
Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer.
"Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him." Too Late To Apologize, Mr. Billionaire
Gavin For seven years, I scrubbed floors, cooked books, and hid my identity as the Vitiello heiress just to test if Dante Moretti loved me for me, not my father’s power.
But the massive digital billboard in Times Square froze the blood in my veins.
It wasn’t my face next to his under the headline "The King and his new Queen." It was a cocktail waitress named Lola.
When I walked into the lobby to confront him, Lola slapped me across the face and crushed my late mother's locket under her stiletto heel.
Dante didn't defend me. He didn't even look sorry.
"You’re useful, like a stapler," he sneered, checking his watch.
"But a King needs a Queen, not a boring clerk. You can stay on as my mistress if you want to keep your job."
He thought I was a nobody. He thought he could use me to launder his money and then discard me like trash.
He didn't realize that the only reason he wasn't in federal prison was because I was protecting him.
I wiped the blood from my lip and pulled out a secure satellite phone.
Dante laughed. "Who are you calling? Your mommy?"
I stared him dead in the eyes as the line connected.
"The pact is void, Papa," I whispered. "Burn them all."
Ten minutes later, the glass doors shattered as my father’s military helicopters descended onto the street.
Dante fell to his knees, realizing too late that he hadn't just lost a secretary.
He had just declared war on the Capo dei Capi. Mafia Wife's Revenge: Unleashing My Fury
Gavin For five years, I lived a beautiful lie. I was Aliana Hughes, the cherished wife of the city's most feared Mafia Capo and the beloved daughter of the Don. I believed my arranged marriage had blossomed into love.
On my birthday, my husband promised me the amusement park. Instead, I found him there with his other family, celebrating the fifth birthday of the son I never knew he had.
I overheard their plan. My husband called me a "naive fool," a placeholder to legitimize his secret son. The ultimate betrayal wasn't his affair, but the sight of my own father's car parked across the street. My family wasn't just aware; they were the architects of my ruin.
Back home, I found the proof: a secret photo album of my husband's other family posing with my parents, and records showing my father had bankrolled the entire deception. They had even drugged me on weekends so he could play happy family.
The grief didn't break me. It turned into something cold and sharp. I was a ghost in a life that was never mine, and a ghost has nothing to lose.
I copied every damning file onto a USB drive. As they celebrated their perfect day, I sent a courier with my parting gift: a recording of their treachery. While their world burned, I walked toward the airport, ready to erase myself and start over. 
/0/53068/coverorgin.jpg?v=4a7faed32e81336b92aed1a56254cb36&imageMogr2/format/webp)
![The Heir's Love [Mafia Games 3]](https://cos-enres.cdreader.com/site-322(new)/0/45463/coverorgin.jpg?v=ec14b880e1f14312e80c20f09e11f158&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/22524/coverorgin.jpg?v=7d1c0d325dbd3f109d683f1771141a90&imageMogr2/format/webp)
![The Secret Heiress [Mafia Games 2]](https://cos-enres.cdreader.com/site-322(new)/0/21082/coverorgin.jpg?v=bf396b3effd267c4a588e5fbfee83e08&imageMogr2/format/webp)
![The Heir's Secrets [Mafia Games 1]](https://cos-enres.cdreader.com/site-322(new)/0/20440/coverorgin.jpg?v=b6c42b2ad3a19be79339ab70db7a9fea&imageMogr2/format/webp)
![The Cali Alpha [Mafia Games 5]](https://cos-enres.cdreader.com/site-322(new)/0/20437/coverorgin.jpg?v=16c86c524eb6735625c0ee0fedc4ee40&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/85173/coverorgin.jpg?v=95f4c350fdd6a7bee4bd59ff686ca121&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100248/coverorgin.jpg?v=b1dec4753a5c9ea677f050c0b517bc01&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100383/coverorgin.jpg?v=c125c31cace55ba319ae985ae7ee3148&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100382/coverorgin.jpg?v=98eca9353a7f43dce1fbab16dfc5e227&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100380/coverorgin.jpg?v=e25615fa9c8d204a9ed9199e8c02e5c3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100381/coverorgin.jpg?v=e375925b1fad72d8fa2d14504dc63758&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/99234/coverorgin.jpg?v=d4d85591c244d81b1eaa6fe4e928cfec&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/97865/coverorgin.jpg?v=2e9a99751772e765a80f3fc6fc325381&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100250/coverorgin.jpg?v=1e1cc879a2a9ec09824fc48dab606c09&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/96398/coverorgin.jpg?v=3809bf8f2c1a77eb23bb91ea2c0950e4&imageMogr2/format/webp)