Romances de LIVETH. E

DAMON It’s 10am in the morning. I’m dressed in a black shirt and black pants. I just killed two men and I don’t feel sorry about it. They deserved it. What wasn’t deserved was those bastards tampering with my plane or the two hour wait that somehow turned into four before the next available flight. She’s probably gone, I thought as I endured the agonizingly long trip back. But I told her to wait. I’m guessing she didn’t. A cruel smile touched my lips. God help her if she didn’t. She’d probably be beneath another man right now. My fist clenched immediately. “What’s on your mind?” a cold voice called from beside me. It was Micheal my right hand man. “Why?” I asked lazily, tilting my head mildly. “It’s not everyday I get to watch you lose control.” I arched my brows in confusion. “Come on man,” he scoffed. “I watched you smile while gutting two men alive and you don’t usually clench your fist like that because you’re always trying to keep your victims alive longer so they ca

LAURAEight hours had passed since the strange, hot man asked me to wait.I had been driven out of the room by the hotel staff, and now I was back in the dressing room with the other girls.With the sun shining brightly outside, shame was finally beginning to settle into my chest.But it was nothing compared to the fear I was feeling.Apparently, I now owed the stylist two thousand five hundred dollars for the outfit, makeup, and styling.“Fuck me,” I cursed under my breath.The pants and leash that could’ve literally been used to strangle me was mine to pay for.And after all that humiliation, I made absolutely nothing last night.I felt violated.No…Used.Memories of me arching helplessly beneath a stranger’s touch flashed through my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, fighting back my embarrassment.“Getting déjà vu?” a voice asked from the corner.I turned slowly.It was her.The same girl whose conversation had lured me into this mess.“I’m Keisha,” she said, sitting besi

LAURA Bare feet on cobblestone, my worn-out dress danced in the wind alongside my thick, wavy chestnut hair that cascaded all the way down to my knees. But even if I cut it into a bob, it would only sell for a thousand dollars at most. Not ten thousand. Nowhere close to nine million dollars. How did I let myself get here? I whimpered softly, driving my fist against my forehead. Not even the loud music from the club behind me could drown out the noise inside my head. I had only two weeks to raise a sum of money I had never even touched in my miserable twenty-four years of existence. I paused to wipe my nose when I noticed a line of girls climbing into a black van nearby. “That man tipped me ten thousand, girl. I’m telling you,” one of them laughed from the back of the line. “And if we’re lucky, we’ll make ten times more tonight,” another teased, dragging slowly on her cigarette before they both burst into laughter. I didn’t need anyone to explain who they were or what they di