Novels by Circeleari

It was time for the dancing. One thing I'm definitely not good at.The music starts. The kind of slow, sweeping melody that’s supposed to make you feel like you’ve stepped into a fairytale. Except fairytales don’t have bruises hidden beneath satin, or fathers who trade their daughters like currency.And they sure as hell don’t have men like Konstantin Morozov.His hand presses against my waist, his grip firm, possessive—he’s laying claim, even though I was never mine to begin with. My fingers rest against his shoulder, light but steady, and I pray to whatever cruel god is watching that I don’t fuck this up.He leads. I follow.It should be simple.It’s not.Every step is a battle. The weight of a hundred eyes digging into my skin, choking me. I don’t have to hear them to know what they’re saying. My dress glides over the floor, my heels clicking against the polished marble, my heart thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird.I can feel their whispers slithering through the air."Sh

I stand there, the torn fabric fluttering against my back, feeling like every eye in the room is glued to me. Every judgment, every whisper, every damn snicker, and comment—all of it is burning through my skin. How the hell did this happen? Irene swore she’d double-checked the gown herself. She’d been the one volunteering to “make sure everything was perfect,” practically yanking it out of my hands last night.And now, here I am, exposed like some tragic joke at my own wedding.Tristan steps up, his face tense. He shrugs off his jacket, extending it toward me, and for one second, I think maybe this will end with a sliver of dignity. But before I can even take it, Irene appears out of nowhere, her voice a loud gasp. “Oh my god, Eva!” She drapes herself over me, hands all over the dress, pressing down on my shoulders, pulling the fabric around like she’s checking the damage.“You poor thing!” she announces, loud enough that half the room turns to see. “It ripped right in the middle of

Well, Konstantin Morozov sure knew how to stir up some drama.I stood there for a good five minutes. The zipper behind my back was still loose. I could feel a ripping pain. The zipper must have gashed over from Irene forcing it to close.The boutique turned upside down when Irene’s bubbly character left the door.“Excuse me,” I jolted from the sudden voice behind me and I turned to look at the rude employee from earlier, her brows raised as she glanced down at the entirety of me.“Not to be rude but . . . I don’t think we have any sizes for you.” She shrugs and is about to walk away, her stilts clicking onto the marble floor. However, halfway to the door, she turned to me, pointing at the dress.“Are you even going to buy that? If not, I suggest you better take it off. We don’t offer your size, I suppose.”I look down at myself. The dress wasn’t at all flattering to my curves. It was a satin dress that didn’t have any intricate design. If I didn’t know it came from this store, I would

“Eva! You’re finally here! I actually waited for you but the dresses were just calling me out!” She chuckles before waving her hands for the attendant to leave her be. She bows down before stepping off the platform. Wow, she is enthusiastic. That’s the total opposite of the shy character hiding behind Konstantin the entire night of the engagement party.Well, I guess it’s too hard to be judging a book by their cover.Irene Morozov smiled at me, the sun casting a glow on her face. She’s gifted. She’s god’s gift to all men. Honestly, I’m not being all judgmental but she looks like the traditional wife you would love to go home to after work because there will always be tasty food prepared on the table. “Right. I was uh . . . told to come here?” I mutter, confused as to whether this is actually my wedding fitting or hers. She’s already wearing a wedding dress. “Of course, of course! I’m sure you would want to look good if you’re getting married to Konstantin.” She smiled before pulling

If I had to choose between being kidnapped and tied down to listen to children laughing at three in the morning or this, I would choose the former. “You seem to be enjoying this.” Konstantin’s icy breath fans my neck, a growl involuntarily leaves his lips. I am currently in his lap right now and we are reenacting a scene I tried so damn hard to burn into ashes from my memories. “I know that you know we’d both be paying each other to be a million meters away from ourselves right now.” I whisper, sweating from the proximity of our warm bodies.This lap dance was merely for the sake of the show, or rather the awkward host’s attempt to break the tension lurking in the air at the recent announcement of Morozov’s addition to the family. “Wow! We’re getting steamy, huh? This couple are partners to root for!” The host adds, his voice a screeching sound to the echoing microphone. It’s honestly making this experience a little harder to endure. It’s for mother. It’s for mother. It’s for moth

The drive to the party was silent. The doorman sat right beside the driver, who was also silently managing the wheel. There was the beautiful bouquet and the smell of expensive wine that’s supposed to be shared by the two engaged people—who, by the way, doesn’t have the balls to show up to me right now—was the last hospitality they could give me. They didn’t have the courage to ask how I’m doing. Considering the guy I was supposed to marry sent me a ride to the party without coming along. Not that I would expect them to. These are Konstantin Morozov’s henchmen, built to intimidate and kill, not pamper a woman their boss is planning to dispose of once deemed unworthy.Finally, we arrived at the large mansion. It was filled with different classic cars parked in the corners, which tells me the guests were already here. Only to witness the fiance walking on her own inside.I inhaled a huge amount of breath and slapped my cheeks with both hands. It was the only loud sounds that cracked th