Masuk
ANYA
Valentine’s Day; The day of lovers, the day I had been waiting for with my heart in my throat and dreams in my eyes. Today was going to be my day. My perfect day. I rushed into the bar, my heart pounding in anticipation. The sight of Cross made my breath catch, as it always did. He was sitting there, looking effortlessly perfect. His hair was slightly messy, his smile casually charming, and his presence magnetic. I had loved him since high school, and even now, in college, that love hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger. He was the guy all the girls wanted, yet somehow, he remained single. That was part of his charm...unreachable, mysterious, untouchable. But not to me. I believed I had a chance. I wasn’t supposed to school at Kings college. My parents had wanted me to attend a more prestigious one, but I had whined, begged, and complained until they sent me there.....where Cross was. To me, nothing mattered more than being near him. Yesterday, I had done what I thought I’d never have the courage to do. I confessed my feelings to him. I told Cross I loved him. The memory of it still made my cheeks burn, but I had to. My dream was to share my first kiss with him—on Valentine’s Day. He hadn’t rejected me outright, which felt like a miracle. He simply said, “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” That was today. And he had called me this morning, inviting me to meet him here at the bar. My heart had soared at the thought. Surely, this meant he was going to say yes. But my excitement faltered the moment I stepped closer and noticed he wasn’t alone. Four of his friends were there, including his sister, Bernice....the high school queen bee. Cross’s eyes met mine, and I smiled nervously, sitting beside him. Before I could say anything, one of his friends smirked. “So, this is the new girl who confessed her love to you?” Cross nodded casually. “Yeah.” “They’re better girls, Cross,” Bernice said, her voice sharp. “Why did you bring her here?” I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling small. I glanced at Cross, hoping he’d defend me or say something reassuring, but he just smiled. He hadn’t said a word to me yet, but being near him made my heart race. My feelings for him drowned out the embarrassment creeping up my neck. “I don’t think she really loves you,” Bernice said suddenly, her words cutting through the air like a blade. My stomach twisted. “If she truly loves you, let’s test her love,” Bernice added with a sly smile. “Umm, sing for Cross,” one of his friends suggested. “That’s boring,” Bernice said, dismissing the idea. Her eyes lit up as she glanced toward the bar entrance. The entire room grew quiet as a man walked in, surrounded by bodyguards. The air seemed to shift with his arrival. People instinctively made way for him, his presence commanding attention. I could only see his back, blocked by his towering bodyguards. He was speaking on the phone, his voice low but firm. I didn’t know who he was, but Bernice’s eyes were glued to him, her expression almost starstruck. I barely paid attention to him. My focus was on Cross, as always. To me, he was perfect, the only one who mattered. “I’ve got an idea,” Bernice said suddenly, her tone dripping with mischief. “If you love my brother, prove it. Go to that man and propose to him. Ask him to marry you.” “What?” I blurted, my heart skipping a beat. Bernice nodded, her expression smug. “If you do it, I’ll believe you truly love Cross. Don’t worry, that man will definitely turn you down. But what matters is you saying those four words.” “How can you ask me to say such things to another man?” I asked, my voice trembling. “I should only say those words to Cross.” “It’s just a test,” Cross said, finally speaking. His voice was calm, but his words cut deep. “That man won’t even look at you.” “Come on, she won’t do it,” one of his friends said, laughing. “Her love for you isn’t that deep.” Cross smirked and took a sip from his drink. “We’ll see.” “If you do it,” Bernice added with a smirk, “you’ll get to kiss Cross tonight.” My heart skipped a beat. “It’ll be my first kiss,” I said, looking at Cross with all the love I felt for him. “It’ll be my first kiss too,” Cross replied casually, his eyes sparkling with amusement. His friends cheered, laughing like this was all a game. I stood, shaky but determined. My heart pounded in my chest as I glanced at the man across the bar. His bodyguards stood like a wall around him, and he had just ended his phone call. “Excuse me,” I said to one of the guards. “I need to speak to your boss.” The guards stepped aside, and the man turned. I froze. It was Hunter Steele. The richest billionaire in the country. Ruthless. Untouchable. His name alone struck fear into people’s hearts. Stories of his cruelty were legendary. He was said to especially hate women because his mother had abandoned him for a wealthier man when he was a child. Also, there were rumours that he had strong connections with the Mafia but the rumours were never confirmed. Why was he here? He looked at me, his piercing eyes cold and sharp. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone irritated. “Cat got your tongue?” Fear gripped me, but I couldn’t back down. Not when Cross was watching. Not when proving my love was on the line. My hands trembled, but I managed to speak. “Hunter Steele...” I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Will you... will you marry me?” His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “What?”The morning light filtered through the curtains with cruel gentility, illuminating the chaos of scattered clothes and tangled sheets. Zoya's eyes fluttered open, her body aching in ways that made her breath catch—not entirely from pain. She turned her head slowly on the pillow, and her heart seized. Manuel sat beside her on the bed, half naked, watching her with unreadable eyes. Shock paralyzed her for a heartbeat before hot tears spilled down her cheeks. "Are you going to call the cops right now?" His voice was silk over steel, amused and lethal all at once. A smile broke through her tears, unbidden and genuine. The absurdity of it—that he thought she was some ordinary woman he'd subdued and conquered. Manuel's head tilted, a predator's curiosity flickering across his handsome face. "Oh, you're smiling and crying at the same time. What should I make of this?" Zoya forced steadiness into her voice, channeling every lesson from her training. "What do you want then? Do y
Manuel kept sitting, his eyes burning into Zoya with an intensity that made her skin prickle. This man was dangerous—she'd known it from the moment she'd seen him at the club. Now here they were. As Zoya knelt before him, Manuel instructed, his voice filled with desire. "Suck my cock, cupcake." Immediately, Zoya's hands went to his belt, her hands shivering as she freed his cock with swift, determined movements. Manuel's breath caught the moment her hand wrapped around his cock and she began to stroke him. When she took him in her mouth, the guttural sound that tore from his throat sent liquid heat pooling between her thighs. His hand fisted in her hair, rough, possessive, and she surrendered completely to the rhythm as he pushed her head up and down. The taste of him, the weight and heat of his cock on her tongue, the way his breathing became ragged and desperate, made her moan around him, her own desire spiking dangerously. His muscles tensed, his grip tightening,
MONTHS LATER The bass from the club's sound system thrummed through the floor, vibrating up through Carlos's chest as he and Manuel settled into a corner booth. The lighting was dim, pulsing with blues and purples that cast shifting shadows across their faces. Around them, the crowd moved like a living thing—bodies pressed together on the dance floor, laughter and conversation mixing with the heavy beat of the music. Carlos's eyes swept the room methodically, cataloging exits, noting faces, searching for one man. His fingers drummed against the leather seat, a nervous habit he'd developed over the past month of waiting, planning, and systematically dismantling the empire his family had built. "Relax," Manuel said, signaling the waitress. "Felix will show. Our contact confirmed he'd be here tonight." "I'll relax when this is over," Carlos replied, his voice barely audible over the music. "When Felix gives us what we need." They ordered drinks—whiskey for Carlos, vodka for Man
Hours later, Maya stirred in her sleep. In her dreams, she was holding Carlos's hand, gripping it desperately as he tried to pull away. "Don't let go," she begged, her fingers tightening around his. "Please don't let go. I don't want you to go away." But in her nightmare, Carlos shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, I can't stay. I have to go." He pulled his hand free despite her desperate attempts to hold on, and Maya felt herself falling into darkness. She woke with a start, her heart hammering, her body drenched in sweat. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was—the room was unfamiliar, decorated in soft blues and creams she'd never seen before. "Maya!" Star's excited voice cut through her disorientation. Her little sister was sitting in a chair beside the bed, having apparently been watching her sleep. "You're awake!" Star threw herself onto the bed, hugging Maya tightly. Maya's arms came up automatically to hold her, but her mind was spinning with confusion. "W
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room where Maya lay in deep, drugged sleep. Carlos stood beside the bed, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had done. Her face was peaceful, unmarked by the anguish that would come when she discovered his betrayal. With infinite tenderness, he cleaned her body with a warm cloth, his touch reverent as he washed away any trace of their passionate night together. Each movement was deliberate and careful, as though he were handling something infinitely precious. When he finished, he selected a simple but beautiful dress for her—a soft blue cotton that would be comfortable for the long journey ahead. He dressed her slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he guided her limp arms through the sleeves and smoothed the fabric over her still form. She looked so vulnerable lying there, trusting him completely even in unconsciousness. The sight nearly broke his resolve. A soft knock at the door
Carlos stared at Maya, her eyes searching his face desperately, waiting for the promise she needed to hear. The words caught in his throat like shards of glass. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his jaw working silently. How could he promise to put himself first when everything he was fighting for required the opposite? By destroying the trafficking networks, by dismantling every branch of SK Institute, he wasn't just seeking justice—he was eliminating the only real threat that would ever hang over Maya and Star's heads. But that kind of mission demanded everything from him. It demanded sacrifice. It demanded that he be willing to die for it. "Carlos?" Maya's voice was barely a whisper. "Can you promise me?" His chest tightened. He couldn't lie to her. But he also couldn't give her the words that would destroy her hope. Instead, he reached for her outstretched hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The warmth of her skin against his sent a jolt through him—this gir







