Omoniyi Rose
ABOUT ME
ABOUT ME
STORY BY Omoniyi Rose
T The Girl in the Freezer
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My name is Zara Okoro. I clean empty apartments in Queens for $15 an hour. I never thought I'd find two children in a freezer.Apartment 4B on 129th was supposed to be easy. Nigerian family left in a hurry, left jollof pots and broken TV. Sweep, mop, throw away, collect cash.But the freezer was humming too loud.Inside, wrapped in black nylon and ice, was a small hand with chipped pink nail polish. A little girl. With a puff like mine. Frozen, eyes open.I screamed. Police came. Then they found a second bag. A little boy.The problem? The family who lived in 4B never had kids. No records. No photos. No school registration. According to New York City, those children never existed.And someone texted me at 2 AM:You shouldn't have opened the freezer, Zara. Now you have to finish what you started. - 4BNow I'm being followed. A black Toyota follows me from Queens College to the African store. My friend Amaka was attacked behind our building. My landlord Mr. Patel is lying — he knew the family was running from something.The police say "Don't leave town, Miss Okoro." But the killer knows my name. Knows I live on 129th. Knows I have four sisters.The only way to stay alive is to find out who the girl with pink nails really is — before I end up in a freezer too.A chilling, page-turning thriller set in the heart of Queens, perfect for fans of Freida McFadden, Liane Moriarty, and fast-paced African diaspora mystery. If you love strong Nigerian heroines, dark secrets in apartment buildings, and twists that make you lock your door at night, this is for you.What readers are saying about Zara Okoro series:"Zara is funny, fierce, and fearless — I couldn't stop reading!""Queens meets Nollywood meets thriller — so different!""That freezer scene gave me chills for days."THE GIRL IN THE FREEZER is Book 2 in the Zara Okoro Queens Mystery series but can be read as a standalone. Contains strong language, suspense, and Zara's trademark humor — no mafia, no romance, pure mystery.Scroll up and click BUY NOW — but don't read it before bed. And don't open your freezer at 2 AM.
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THE MAFIA'S NANNY: He Hired Me To Watch His Daughter, Now He's Watching Me
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THE MAFIA DON'S BLACK NANNY: I Was Hired To Care For His Daughter, He Made Me Mother Of His ChildI answered an ad for a nanny job. $5,000 a week. Live-in. No experience needed.I thought it was a scam.I am Zara Okoro. 22. Nigerian. Broke international student in New York City. I clean houses, I braid hair, I sell puff-puff on the side to pay my tuition at NYU. My student visa expires in 6 months if I don't find $20,000. My mama in Lagos calls me every day crying, asking when I will make it.So when I saw the ad on Craigslist — "NANNY NEEDED IMMEDIATELY, $5,000/WEEK, MANHATTAN UPPER EAST SIDE, MUST LOVE CHILDREN" — I went. Even though my friend Amaka said "Zara, that is human trafficking."It was not trafficking. It was worse. It was a Mafia mansion.The house was 15,000 square feet. Guards with guns. Cameras everywhere. A chandelier that cost more than my whole village.And him.Lorenzo De Luca. 34 years old. Italian-American. Mafia Underboss. Widower. Single father. The most dangerous and most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life. Black suit, black heart, grey eyes that look through you. Scar on his jaw. Wedding ring still on his finger even though his wife died 2 years ago.He looked at me — natural hair in puff, thrifted dress from Goodwill, plastic slippers — and said: "You are not what I expected."He expected a white blonde nanny with references from Swiss boarding school.He got me. Black. Loud. No filter. No references except "I raised my 5 younger brothers in Ikorodu."His daughter is Sofia De Luca. 4 years old. Half-Italian, half-Angelic. Curly hair like mine. Eyes like his. And she hasn't spoken a single word since her mother died in a car bombing meant for him. 14 months of silence. Doctors, therapists, priests — nothing.Until me.I knelt down and said, "Hi baby, I'm Zara, I will make you jollof rice and tell you story of tortoise."And she looked at me and whispered her first word in over a year: "Mama."The entire house stopped breathing.The head housekeeper cried. The guard dropped his gun. And Lorenzo De Luca looked at me like I just performed miracle and like he wanted to throw me out at same time.He hired me on the spot.But he had rules. Three rules.Rule 1: Don't touch my daughter without asking.Rule 2: Don't ever enter my wing of the house after 9 PM.Rule 3: Don't get pregnant with my child.I laughed when he said Rule 3. "Sir, I came to watch your daughter, not to seduce you. I'm not interested in old men with trust issues."He didn't laugh. He stepped closer, until I could smell his cologne — expensive, dark, dangerous — and said: "You have no idea what you do to a man who hasn't felt anything in two years, little nanny."I should have run that day.But $5,000 a week is $20,000 a month. That's my tuition. That's my mama's rent. That's my papers.So I moved in.Day 2: I broke Rule 1. Sofia had a nightmare and I carried her to my chest and sang Nigerian lullaby until she slept.Day 7: I broke Rule 2. Sofia was sleepwalking, looking for me, and I went to his wing to return her. I saw him coming out of his bathroom, towel around waist, water dripping from his abs, looking at me like I was his next sin.Day 14: He kissed me against the kitchen fridge while Sofia was napping upstairs. He said "This is a mistake, Zara" but his hands were in my hair and his lips were on my neck.Day 30: I am late. Two weeks late. I never miss. I take a pregnancy test in his marble bathroom that is bigger than my apartment in Queens.Positive. Two lines.I am pregnant. With his child.The child of a Mafia Don who told me explicitly: Don't get pregnant with my child.Now I have to tell him. The man who still wears his dead wife's ring. The man whose family killed for less. The man whose daughter already calls me Mama and who watches me on CCTV when he thinks I'm not looking.But that's not even the worst part.His dead wife's family — the Morettis — they want Sofia back. They say a Mafia princess should not be raised by a "ghetto Black nanny from Africa with a student visa." They filed for custody. They will do anything to get her. Even kill.They don't know I'm pregnant. If they know I'm carrying Lorenzo's heir — a Black heir to the De Luca empire — they will kill me too.Lorenzo has to choose. His empire, his bloodline, his dead wife's memory — or me. The nanny he was never supposed to touch. The Black girl who made his mute daughter speak again. The woman who is carrying his second child.He told me not to get pregnant.But I am.And now he says: "You are mine, Zara. You, Sofia, and that baby in your belly. Anyone who tries to take you from me will learn why they call me Il Diavolo. The Devil."This is a BWWM dark romance. No cheating. Possessive, grumpy, broken Mafia single dad falls first and falls harder. Sunshine, sassy, curvy Nigerian nanny heals his daughter and his heart. Forced proximity, live-in nanny, age gap, grumpy x sunshine, Black girl magic, billionaire Mafia romance, pregnancy, single dad, protective hero.If you love: "The
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PREGNANT FOR THE MAFIA BOSS: His Twins, His Revenge
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She entered the wrong car on a rainy night. Now she's carrying his twins. And he doesn't let go of what belongs to him.Amara Johnson is a 23-year-old Nigerian girl living in New York on an expired student visa. Broke. Alone. Dumped on the street by her boyfriend at 11 PM in the rain with only $12 in her account.She orders the cheapest ride to survive the night.What arrives is not a Toyota. It's a black Escalade with tinted windows.Inside is DANTE MORETTI.30 years old. Italian Mafia Don. $500 million empire built on blood and guns. Tattooed. Scarred. Beautiful like sin. Cold like death. The kind of man every mother warns her daughter about — and every daughter secretly dreams about.He offers her one night in his penthouse. Safe. Guest room. No touch.She should have said no.She didn't.One night. One mistake. One night she thought she'd never remember.Until two months later.Two pink lines. Twins.She runs to Ohio, hides her pregnancy, tries to disappear. She thinks she's safe.She's wrong.Because Dante Moretti has been looking for her for 3 months. And when a Mafia Boss looks for his woman, he finds her.He shows up at her door with five armed men, eyes locked on her small bump."So you were hiding from me, Amara? With MY babies?"Now she's in his $50 million Long Island fortress. Guards, guns, cameras. A golden cage. He says it's for protection — the Russian Mafia wants her dead to hurt him. But protection feels a lot like possession.He puts Chanel maternity dresses in her closet. He puts his tattooed hand on her belly every night. He hears the twins' heartbeat for the first time and breaks."They're mine. You're mine. I protect what's mine."But Amara didn't come to America to be a Mafia wife. She came to be free.Can she survive his world? Can a soft Nigerian girl with a big heart tame a monster who has never loved before?And what happens when she finds out HE was the one who got her ex fired and deported so she would have no one left but him?This is not a soft love story. This is dark. Possessive. Obsessive. He will burn New York for her. He will kill for her. He will lock her in his mansion if that's what it takes to keep her breathing.WHAT TO EXPECT: • Black girl x Italian Mafia Boss (BWWM) • One night stand to pregnancy • Possessive, obsessive, jealous MMC who falls first and harder • Twins pregnancy • Forced proximity / He falls first / Touch her and die • Dark romance but no cheating, no abuse to FMC • Russian Mafia revenge war • Mafia Queen glow-up — She goes from poor nanny to Queen who holds gun • Spicy but emotional — He cries when he hears heartbeat • HEA — Happy ending guaranteedFOR FANS OF: Ana Huang, Rina Kent, Neva Altaj, and TikTok mafia romance.Follow Omoniyi Rose for daily updates. Chapter 4 drops tonight.Comment "PROTECT HER DANTE" if you already love him.
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