Who Photographed The Original Evanita Photos Session?

He was forbidden. My brother's best friend. The most dangerous man in the country. And I signed myself over to him. Eve Thorne had one rule: stay away from Dimitri Valentino. It shouldn't have been difficult. He was ruthless, feared, and devastatingly beautiful in the way that only truly dangerous things are. The kind of man who owned nightclubs, commanded armies, and made grown men weep with a single look. The kind of man her brother Mike trusted with his life. The kind of man she had absolutely no business wanting. But one shattered marriage, one bottle of whiskey, and one catastrophically bad decision later, Eve wakes up in Dimitri's bed with a signed contract on the nightstand and six months of her life no longer her own. Her body. His rules. No exceptions. The contract is iron-clad, the penalty clause suffocating — fifty million dollars she doesn't have. And Dimitri Valentino, the Wolf of the Italian underworld, has absolutely no intention of letting her go. He says he'll ruin her for other men. He's not lying. Because beneath the cold control and the thousand-dollar suits is a man who has wanted her for seven sinful years — who has memorized the curve of her smile, the sound of her laugh, and exactly how to take her apart piece by piece until the only word left in her vocabulary is his name. Eve came to him broken, looking to feel wanted. She never expected to feel owned. She never expected to love it. Undressed by the Mafia Lord is a scorching dark romance about forbidden hunger, dangerous obsession, and the catastrophic moment a good girl stops running from the wolf who has always been hunting her. Some contracts change everything. Some men are worth the fine print.

“You should end things with him.” A husky deep voice echoes from the darkness. I freeze in place, his thick Russian accent sent shivers down my spine. I could only make out his large form from the dim lights of the smoking area. “H-how long have you been standing there?” I shivered, not from the cold but from an unsettling feeling. He chuckles richly causing my heart rate to quicken as I watch a small flicker of light before smoke puffs out into the air. “Go inside, krasotka it’s too cold for that little dress of yours...” ******** Josephine Beaumont would’ve never imagined that working as a personal nurse for a wealthy French businessman would entangle her into a deadly web of mafia rivalries. Struggling with financial issues and a toxic relationship, she catches the attention of the dangerous and ruthless Russian pakhan, Sasha Romanov and a deep dark obsession brews takes root in his heart. He stalks her every move with burning desire and manipulates their meeting in the pretense of fate, pulling her into the dangerous dark world of the mafia. Delve into this dark, steamy mafia romance filled with obsession, power, and high-stakes danger, BRATVA'S OBSESSION will leave you breathless and craving more.

Valentine Rossi knew that great love existed as he'd seen it first hand with his parents. But he never imagined that kind of life was for him. Life was work and while he enjoyed it and the finer things in it, he never reveled in it. Not until he met them. Years ago Adira learned not to trust anyone - the hard way. Now she was a successful photographer getting ready to open up her studio. Though her professional life had taken off, her personal life was stagnate. Her benefactor, Gio Rossi, encourages her to to break out of her shell and start living life so she begins modeling under her middle name -Alexandria. As both careers are really getting underway, she gets drawn again and again to Valentine as circumstances - and Gio- throw them together. Valentine enjoys the quiet and shy Adira, but is drawn like a moth to a flame to the passionate and funny Alexandria. How long can Adira hold back the truth that they are one and the same? While he's trying to show her how to trust she's the one breaking it. What happens when the truth is revealed?

Seven years with a photographer, and I don't have a single decent photo of myself. "I only shoot landscapes, not people," my boyfriend, Dwayne Norton, always tells me. He even claims he broke up with his ex because she kept forcing him to take her picture. So, for seven years, I play nice. I never ask and never push. Until today, when I'm scrolling through social media and see a post from my influencer best friend, Aviana Reed. "My personal photographer has been shooting me for seven years. Every single shot is a masterpiece!" In the comments, there's a reply, "It's an honor to shoot my muse." The profile picture is pitch black. The tone is so familiar it leaves me completely numb. He doesn't hate shooting people. He just hates shooting me. Dwayne, since there's no room for me in your lens, then this time, there's no room for you in my world either.

I'm a private photographer. Many female college students come to me to get their portraits shot. In return, they choose to offer me their supple bodies. One day, I receive an order to take wedding photos of a couple. However, that night, the bride insists on having me sleep with her… Could it be that her husband can't even afford to pay me for my services?

Julian Hayes spent eight years climbing from first officer to captain of the most coveted international routes. I stood beside him for every mile of that climb. For him, I walked away from the Valenti family, the most feared Mafia name on the East Coast. I buried Elena Valenti, and became Lina Vale, the girl who smiled in the cabin while he ruled the cockpit. The day I left, my father stood on the marble steps of our estate and said, "Elena, if you walk out that gate for him, don’t come crawling back." Julian never knew. To him, I was a woman with no real family, no real power, and no life worth asking about. I was the one who memorized his flight schedule, packed his stomach pills, and kept dinner warm until midnight. Once, I asked him, "Can you take me into the sky the way you see it? Just once." He didn’t even put down his fork. "The cockpit is a workplace, Lina. Not a theme park." I said okay and never asked again. Then one sleepless dawn, I found the encrypted album on his phone. More than forty cockpit photos: cloud seas, blood-red sunsets, double rainbows after storms, the Milky Way over the Atlantic. Every one had been sent to the same contact. A teddy bear emoji. The newest photo showed half a sun hanging off the wingtip. His caption read, [Next time you’re off, I’ll put you in the observer seat. Sit on the right. That’s where the whole sky opens up.] She replied, [I’ll hold you to that.] I put the phone back. I didn’t change the password, didn’t delete the album, didn’t wake him up to beg for an explanation. At dawn, I brewed his coffee like always, sat alone at the kitchen island, and drank mine in silence. Then I sent my resignation letter and called a number I hadn’t touched in eight years. I watched the first flight of the morning rise beyond the Manhattan skyline and said, "Papa, I’m coming home." When the line connected, my father’s voice was colder than a gun barrel. "Have you thought it through?"