Fumbled

The year my dad went broke, I was sent to live with billionaire heir Jace Blackwell. We grew up together. When he had a fever, he clung to me, face buried in my arms. When he got yelled at, he sprawled across my lap and sulked. And when another boy wrote me a love letter, Jace pinned me down and kissed me—shaking, jealous, possessive. Everyone thought we were the perfect couple. Then, on the day we were filling out our early college applications, a sharply dressed man burst into the classroom and shoved me to the floor. He grabbed eighteen-year-old Jace, his eyes bloodshot. "Jace! Look at me! I'm you ten years from now! Don't go to the same college as Nadia. She's not the one you love. It's Faye!" Faye Whitmore. The broke new girl. Eighteen-year-old Jace stared at that identical face, stunned. Then his expression went dark. "What the hell are you talking about? The only person I love is Nadia! I don't care who you are. Touch her again, and I'll kill you!" He rushed over and pulled me into his arms. He was shaking. I gave a bitter smile. No one knew. I was from ten years in the future, too. And twenty-eight-year-old Jace wasn't lying. By then, I wasn't the girl he loved anymore.

I got into an elite college with my boyfriend, Philip Jewitt—and tossed my acceptance letter in the trash. His mom was dying. He stood in front of me, eyes red. "Stella, she doesn't have time... If she finds out I dropped out to pay for her treatment, it'll destroy her. Please. Help me. I swear I'll treat you right for the rest of my life." Philip got four perfect years on campus. I scraped by, working three jobs. I paid his tuition. Covered his mom's bills. After graduation, he needed startup money. I convinced my parents to mortgage our house. When his company went public, he proposed in front of everyone. I thought all those years finally meant something. But then he heard his one-sided love, Winnie Schell, died in a car crash. He got drunk and shoved me to the floor. "Why wasn't it you? If I didn't feel guilty about you, I would've married her." I clutched my stomach, pregnant, begging through tears. He sneered. "You owe Winnie everything. You really think you deserve my kid?" Then he kicked me—hard—right in the stomach. Pain ripped through me. Blood pooled between my legs. My vision went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—one hour before the college application deadline.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was straddling my Mafia husband, Lucian, kissing him deeply. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my expensive silk dress, searching for the pregnancy test I'd hidden there. I wanted to save the news of my unexpected pregnancy for the end of the evening. Lucian's right-hand man, Marco, asked with a suggestive smile in Italian: "Don, your new little canary, Sophia. How does she taste?" Lucian's mocking laughter vibrated through my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied, also in Italian: "Like an unripe peach. Fresh and tender." His hand was still caressing my waist, but his gaze was distant. "Just keep this between us. If my Donna finds out, I'm a dead man." His men chuckled knowingly, raising their glasses and swearing their silence. The warmth in my blood turned to ice, inch by inch. The one thing they didn’t know was that my grandmother was from Sicily, so I understood every word. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect smile of a Donna fixed in place, but the hand holding my champagne flute trembled. Instead of making a scene, I opened my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days ago for a private international medical research project, and tapped "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from Lucian's world completely.

I fumbled with the lock, my pulse hammering. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t want this. "Alaric," I breathed, but his name barely made it past my lips before his hands were on me—hot, demanding, unstoppable. "Tell me to stop," he murmured against my throat, his fingers sliding beneath my dress. "Tell me you don’t want this." I opened my mouth—to argue, to push him away—but all that came out was a soft, shuddering gasp as he found the one place that betrayed me. His dark chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. "That’s what I thought." __ Betrayed and humiliated at the altar. Isla never planned to ruin herself in the arms of another man. But heartbreak led her straight into the grasp of Alaric Voss—powerful, ruthless, and twice her age. One night. No names. No future. Or so she thought. Because when the sun rose, Isla came face-to-face with her new boss—the same man who had just claimed her in every sinful way possible. Now, resisting him is impossible. He’s everywhere—watching, teasing, owning her with every smirk, every touch. She swore it was a mistake. He swears it’s just the beginning. And the more she fights him, the more she realizes the truth: She was his from the moment he laid eyes on her. And Alaric Voss doesn’t let what’s his slip away.

For years, no one had been able to activate the last dragon's heart. No one except a poor young thief. ___ She only had one job–stealing a precious stone. Yet it landed her with an overbearing dragon. ___ Locked and chained, Scar suddenly awakened when his heart palpitated for the first time in decades, coming face to face with a young girl cradling his heart. In his vengeful attempt to get it back, they activate the spell binding him to her. Now not only was his heart stolen, but he was also enslaved. Scar vowed to kill the girl once the bond was broken. The only problem is no one had ever successfully broken a dragon bond, nor would it allow him to harm its new master. ___ "Oh... um ... sorry. I didn't mean to…um.. pry. I'm... gonna go now." I stuttered, inching backward from his penetrating gaze, glancing around for a way out. "I don't know who you're, but I do know you're not here willingly. Seeing as you're chained and all." Silence. "How about I set you free, and in return, you get us out of here?" Silence. Maybe he couldn't talk, so I did the only thing I could. Grabbing the keys, I fumbled with the heavy chains of his cage. His gaze finally shifted to the wooden box I dropped on the floor. "Fancy, isn't it?" I said. "I've never seen anything like it before. But then again, I'm not familiar with expensive stuff." A deep rumble rattled from his throat, freezing me in place. I glanced up at him wearily. "Run." And then he was charging towards me. ___ Tropes: Enemies to lovers. Hidden identity. Reverse harem. Betrayal. Revenge. Arranged marriage. Contract. Escape with pregnancy. Forced proximity. ___

“Undress yourself.” He ordered, his eyes half lidded, gazed at her. Her innocent eyes fixed at him. “C’mon,” he leaned more “Will you?” he dominated her senses. Her eyes softened, she softly nodded. Her fingers fumbled at the hem of her top, hesitating. She peeked up at him for permission, like she was afraid. But he didn’t react. He only watched. With trembling hands, she slipped off her top. When she looked up, he was already staring. She reached down, fingers brushing over the waistband of her skirt. Hesitantly, she pulled the strip free, and the skirt dropped soundlessly to her feet, pooling like surrender, leaving her only in her white little pant. A growl echoed from his throat as his hand shot up, gripping her jaw, not hard, but enough to make her gasp. “You’re perfect like this.” he muttered against her lips. “So fucking good when you obey.” Her lashes kissed her flushed cheeks. “Get on your knees!” ***** He’s dangerous. He’s Cruel. She’s innocent. Too fragile. Rosa’s life had always been ordinary… until she met Killian Salvatore, the enigmatic and dangerously captivating man who awakens desires she can’t control. To the world, Killian was a respected professor, calm, brilliant, untouchable. But behind closed doors, he ruled the underworld as a ruthless Mafia lord. As their forbidden bond of lust and desire deepens, the twisted secret and bitter truth slowly reveals, destroying everything. Then? NOTE: DARK ROMANCE INSANELY OBSESSIVE BOOK. SO BE AWARE.