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"I will be your mistress, Adrian. Just let my family live." Adrian lifted his glass of wine. A faint smile curved his lips. "I thought they would send me the adopted daughter," he said, "I didn't expect you." "Everyone said your brother spoiled you like a princess. Turns out that was just a joke." The tip of the pen paused, stabbing a small blot of ink onto the paper. I signed my name, calm to the point of silence. The contract would take effect in three days. Then, I would cut all ties with the Willis name. I traded myself for the survival of the Willis family and my own permanent release.

My boyfriend's "best female friend" was angry again. Why? Because for our five-year anniversary, he got a gift just for me—and forgot about hers. Simone Baker threw a complete fit, sobbing and making a huge scene. Scott Tanner immediately blocked me and removed me on Instagram, then changed our matching couple profile pictures. "Girls can be so dramatic," he said. "Once I've calmed her down, we'll switch them back." I reminded him, "That makes a hundred times now." He just smiled and gave me a quick kiss. "I know. I'll make it fast this time." That night, Simone posted a status update: [Your effort was acceptable. You get three days of freedom.] Almost immediately, Scott unblocked me. [Okay, babe. We can put our couple pictures back now.] But then a male account—using my half of the matching photo—sent him a friend request, followed by a single question mark. [Since when are couple photos a group project?]

When Frank Zelhar, my best friend’s father, taught me how to drive, he told me to sit in his lap while he instructed me. Since the road was bumpy, I kept jolting on his body, and I could sense a hot, hard thing behind me. As I moved, it poked against me. He touched me on the pretext of helping me hone my willpower. When he touched my most intimate parts, I could feel a wetness coming from within me, and I knew that things were about to get out of control.

Is it LOVE? Really? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Two brothers separated by fate, and now fate brought them back together. What will happen to them? How do they unlock the questions behind their separation? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There Are THREE SIDES To Every Story. YOURS, HIS And The TRUTH."We both hold distaste for the other. We're both clouded by their own selfish nature. We're both playing the blame game. It won't end until someone admits defeat. Until someone decides to call it quits. But how would that ever happen? We're are just as stubborn as one another.Only one thing would change our resolution to one another. An Engagement. .......An excerpt -" To be honest I have no interest in you. ", he said coldly almost matching the demeanor I had for him, he still had a long way to go through before he could be on par with my hatred for him. He slid over to me a hot cup of coffee, it shook a little causing drops to land on the counter. I sighed, just the sight of it reminded me of the terrible banging in my head. Hangovers were the worst. We sat side by side in the kitchen, disinterest, and distaste for one another high. I could bet if it was a smell, it'd be pungent."I feel the same way. " I replied monotonously taking a sip of the hot liquid, feeling it burn my throat. I glanced his way, staring at his brown hair ruffled, at his dark captivating green eyes. I placed a hand on my lips remembering the intense scene that occurred last night. I swallowed hard. How? I thought. How could I be interested?I was in love with his brother.

I'm the top salesperson at a tutoring center. Payday comes, and my commission is 50 cents. I'm so furious that I march straight to my boss to demand answers, but his secretary, Sasha Watson, steps in front of me. She digs through her pocket, pulls out 50 cents, and flicks it straight at my face in front of everyone. "Here's your 50 cents!" My ears ring. Heat crawls up my neck and into my skull. "Ms. Watson, this has to be a mistake. I closed 1.5 million dollars on my own last month. My team pulls in over three million dollars. My commission should be at least 200 grand." Sasha rolls her eyes. She reaches into her wallet, pulls out a dollar bill, and slaps it against my cheek. "Stop barking! Fine, I'll throw you a dollar. Keep the change!" I'm about to lose it. "My mom is still waiting on that 200 grand for her surgery. Without it, she could die." The coworkers around us start whispering. "50 cents? For the top salesperson? That's insane!" "Lower your voice. She's the boss's niece! What she says goes. Unless you want to get fired, pretend you didn't hear anything." I turn away, pull out my phone, and dial our biggest competitor. "I'm in. Five million dollars a year."