Novels by Zuzu✨

We land just after midnight, the Athens night warm and fragrant with salt air and jasmine.I am thoroughly exhausted, bone-deep tired from everything that has happened in the last forty-eight hours. The proposal, the shopping, Christopher, the flight. My body feels like it’s made of some special type of metal.Vincent has a car waiting, and within thirty minutes, we are pulling up to a stunning boutique hotel overlooking the Aegean Sea."This is just for tonight," Vincent explains as we check in. "Tomorrow we'll go to the villa."I nod, too tired to process much of anything.The suite is beautiful, filled with white linens and blue accents, with French doors that open onto a balcony overlooking the moonlit water. But as a result of my tired state, I barely register any of it."I'm going to shower," I mumble, grabbing my bag.It isn’t until I’m standing in the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, that something occurs to me.There is only one bed.We are sharing a room.I stare at my reflecti

Christopher stumbles backward, releasing me immediately, and his hands go up in surrender, shaking.Without thinking, I move, practically throwing myself at Vincent. He catches me, his arms coming around me instantly, solid and safe."Are you okay?" His voice is low, controlled, but I can feel the tension vibrating through his body."Yes," I manage, but I'm trembling. Christopher had really been about to hit me, and the realization makes my knees weak.Vincent's hand comes up to cup my face, tilting it gently so he can look at me properly. His dark eyes scan my features, checking for injuries, and the tenderness in that gesture makes my chest tight.Then he looks past me at Christopher, and his expression transforms into something terrifying.He moves toward Christopher, and suddenly, his fist connects with Christopher's face with a sickening crack that echoes off the bathroom tiles. Christopher goes down hard, groaning, blood streaming from his nose."Fucking touch my fiancée like th

The bed is so comfortable I don't want to leave it.When I finally drag myself awake, sunlight is streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and someone has already laid out clothes for me, designer pieces that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe back at the Ashford mansion. A simple but elegant cream blouse and tailored black pants that actually fit me perfectly.I dress quickly, still processing everything that has happened. The proposal. The kiss. Vincent whispering "ravish my bride" in my ear before walking away like it's nothing.A knock at the door makes me jump."Can I come in?" Vincent's voice comes through."Yes," I call out, smoothing down my blouse.He enters wearing a black turtleneck and tailored trousers that make him look like he has stepped out of a fashion magazine. Simple. Elegant. Devastating.My mind foolishly replays what he did yesterday, the way he backed me onto the bed, his lips at my neck, that dark promise in his voice. Heat floods my cheeks."Wha

His room smells like him, expensive cologne with hints of cedar and something more masculine. I flop onto the massive bed with its charcoal gray sheets, letting out a breathless laugh.“Woo,” I say, staring up at the ceiling. “That was crazy. You’re a crazy good actor, Vincent.” I prop myself up on my elbows, grinning at him. “Or wait, should I call you Vincent? Maybe Mr. Vincent? Since you’re five years older than me and all.”He doesn’t respond.Instead, he walks to a mini fridge built into the wall, pulls out a bottle of scotch, and pours himself a glass. The silence stretches as he takes a long drink, his back to me.I frown, sliding off the bed. Something is wrong. He’s being weird, distant in a way that makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.I cross the room and come up behind him. “Vincent,” I say softly. “Did I do something wrong?”He goes still.“Was it the kiss?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Did I do it wrong? I’m sorry, I—”He turns around so suddenly I near

Time seems to freeze.Vincent Torres is on one knee in front of me, holding no ring but making the most public declaration imaginable."Anastasia, will you marry me?"Every eye in the room is on us. Cameras are flashing. Phones are recording. The Ashfords are staring in complete shock.I need to sell this. Make it believable."Yes!" I breathe, letting my voice crack with emotion. "Yes, of course!"Vincent stands in one fluid motion, and before I can process what’s happening, his hands are on my face and his lips are on mine.The kiss shocks me into stillness.His mouth is warm, firm, tasting faintly of strawberries and something darker, more intoxicating. One hand cups my jaw while the other slides to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. The touch is possessive, claiming, like he’s staking ownership in front of the entire world.For a heartbeat, I’m frozen.Then I melt into it.My hands find his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the expensive fabric of his suit. My

The stylist Vincent sends is a whirlwind of efficiency and impeccable taste. She arrives at exactly eight AM with three assistants, racks of designer clothes, and enough makeup to open a cosmetics counter. They transform my room into a makeshift salon, and for the next several hours, I’m poked, prodded, painted, and perfected. "Mr. Torres is very specific about what he wants," the stylist, Michelle, says as she holds up a stunning red dress. "He says you need to look like you could buy and sell everyone in that room." I stare at the dress. It’s gorgeous. "Try it on," Michelle urges. I slip into it, and wow. The dress hugs every curve like it’s sewn directly onto my body. The neckline is cut perfectly to push my breasts up and out without being trashy, hitting that sweet spot between elegant and seductive. The slit runs all the way up my thigh, showing a scandalous amount of leg with every step. I look in the mirror and barely recognize myself. My hair is styled in soft, glamor