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Dinosaur’s kid
Last Updated:
2025-07-31 21:56:26
Latest chapter
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy Disaster, and a Damn Good Jawline
FlashbackThat ceiling wasn’t unfamiliar. But it was too luxurious to be mine.I squinted. The air felt too crisp, too scented, and the sheets brushing against my legs? Like something cursed by angels. When I shifted and rolled over slowly, I saw him.Zane.Lying on his back, bare chest rising and falling like he had zero debt and even fewer regrets. His hair was a mess, but of course, still looked like a cologne ad. His left arm rested over part of his face, while the half-open curtains cast a sliver of light right across his jaw.I didn’t move. Just stared.And somehow, something crawled up my chest. Not a cough. Not the remnants of a sea allergy. Something worse.Feelings.Shit.I shook my head hard and got out of bed. My body felt light, my head no longer a brick. The meds and ten hours of sleep had done their job. I remembered vaguely Theo (the doctor) had explained something before I knocked out again. The IV was gone now.I took a deep breath and slipped out of the suite.The o
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy I’m Sick, Not Six
FlashbackMy eye were heavy, like they’d been through a brawl with life overnight. I let out a slow breath through my nose and blinked, sluggishly.This ceiling wasn’t ours. The walls were too pristine, the curtains too luxurious, and the scent in the air... far too expensive to be a simple room spray. Wood, masculine, and some cologne that honestly should’ve been illegal.I turned my head, careful.The blanket was soft like it had been spun by angels. The sheets were silk-smooth. The air conditioning was perfect, not too cold, not too warm. But my wrist—“Oh, shit.”A clear tube poked from the back of my hand, hooked up to an IV pole beside the bed. The fluid dripped at an annoyingly lazy rhythm, like it knew I hated it.I glanced toward the window.Ocean.Still the ocean.The waves rocked gently, like they were trying to lull me back to sleep. But I wasn’t fooled. This wasn’t a guest suite. This wasn’t even the medical bay, like I’d assumed.There was a black grand piano in the corn
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy Ricotta, Regret, and Really Hot Guys
The night sky outside the suite window was actually pretty. But nothing feels pretty when your whole stomach acts like it’s on a backwards roller coaster while singing the Colombian national anthem.I curled up on the bed, my face pressed to the cold pillow, breaths catching between little moans that kept getting more dramatic. My whole body trembled; my skin was hot like a cheap toaster left on. Cold sweat mixed with fake tears, and yeah, I was pretty sure I was half dying.“I want to go home,” I mumbled, not knowing who I was talking to. “Bring me lasagna… the ricotta lasagna from that restaurant in Rome… the one whose tomato sauce does not stab feelings.”Sheena burst out laughing. “She’s delirious. Hear that, Win? Lasagna.”I opened my eyes and, through the fog, saw Winona sitting cross-legged on the other bed, rubbing balm into the soles of my bare feet with dedicated care. “You know whose fault this is, right?” she asked.“Zane,” I hissed, looking at Winona. “It’s all his fault…
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy Beautiful, Sexy, and Bullshit
Flashback.His chest looked almost inhuman.I swear, no man has any moral right to look like that at breakfast. His muscles were neatly defined, thin ridges casting natural shadows where the morning sun hit. His skin was golden, still a little damp from the sea, rising and falling with breaths that somehow never sounded like he was out of breath.I do not understand how God could hand out perfect genes, fortune, and a face capable of wrecking morals all to one person without intending to create a public hazard.Zane Romano made no sense. And the worst part? He knew it.I swallowed the last of my tea, which had gone lukewarm toward sour, then stood and pulled my shirt off. The sun was getting intense. The air warmed sharp, turning a fabric that had felt comfortable into a personal sauna.I folded his shirt and set it on the chair, then walked aft and opened the small fridge built into the wood paneling. Inside were cold water bottles, pineapple juice, and two cans of sparkling lemonade
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy The Dive, The Smile, The Trouble
FlashbackZane didn’t answer what I’d just said. At least, not with words. He just took a breath and slipped back under the water like some certified merman.His movements were fluid, almost soundless, and I, for some reason, felt like a caveman who’d only just discovered swimming.But I followed him. Because if I didn’t… well, I’d be left behind, drowning in my own envy and curiosity.The water closed around me again. The cold didn’t sting anymore. Maybe my body was adjusting. Or maybe the world down there was simply too beautiful to ignore.We passed a massive curve of rock sprouting with bright red anemones. To the right, a stingray glided past like a ghost with wings. Elegant. Quietly lethal.Zane glanced back, motioning for me to rise a little toward the light. We swam side by side now, close enough to feel the pull of the water each of us displaced. He pointed at a small rocky ledge that looked like a natural rest stop. Slowly, we surfaced.I steadied my breathing and, for the f
His Ex Mistress, His Enemy Tides of Trouble
FlashbackChalk-white rocks jutted out of glass-clear water, sharp as the teeth of some sleeping sea god. The little island was almost deserted, save for a few twisted pines and a lone wooden shack in the distance, probably owned by a retired fisherman who’d traded storms for seagulls.Isola del Gallo. A name that sounded like either the title of an Italian erotic novel or the setting of an upscale murder. In reality, it was prettier than both.And there I was, standing at the edge of a rubber dinghy in a wetsuit far too tight and far too expensive, regretting every life choice that had dragged me here.“Stop looking at me like I just caused an ecological disaster,” Zane said from behind me.I turned. He was already prepped, dive mask hanging around his neck, sun-dried hair tousled in a way that should not have made it hard to breathe, but of course it did. Muscles beneath neoprene stretched like a gym campaign poster, and I considered suing the wetsuit manufacturer for designing some
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