Lady Gaga Song Lyrics Poker Face

If you are going to be BAD, then you have to do it the BAD way... It's pretty simple: 1) Don't get caught 2) Always have a Plan B 3) If all else fails... Run...Run for your life! Everyone has a bad side. Some try to deny it's existence, some hide it and others well...they rule the world with it. In the book of being BAD, there are ninety-nine formulas for world domination... Number one: You aren't BAD until you can walk around the school dressed in all pink and have everyone afraid to approach you. Number two: You aren't BAD until you can break into a certain bad boys house and well... do the wrong kinds of stuff. Number three: You aren't bad until quite frankly, you have declared vengeance against the bad boy. ~*~ "I heard you like bad boys," Blade says with a vivid smirk on his face. I glared up at him, without responding clenching my fists fighting the urge to punch him in the face. "So...?" He says after a couple of seconds of silence. "So what?" "So what do you think...Tinker Bell?" He says emphasizing on the stupid name. His face moved closer to mine and I stared back into his green eyes, watching the fire inside ignite. I smirked, "Then find me one." Blade grins at my witty retort and shrugs it off. "I look at you and I see cotton candy, but then you open your mouth... and suddenly you turn into liquorice," he scoffs. "Welcome to the game bitch, your move, now let's play."

At one of the exclusive private casino parties, my eyes landed on a diamond tiara. The catch? It was the prize for a high-stakes blackjack game. Luckily, poker happens to be one of my many sins. A girl named Elara—whom I once pitied enough to introduce to Throne, hoping she’d land a job—has now declared she wants the tiara too. Naïve. Probably thought beginner’s luck was a real thing. I figured, fine. Let the cards decide. If I win, I walk away with the tiara. If I lose, I’ll find another way to soothe my pride. Easy enough. Thorne, my ever-watchful husband, leaned in and murmured, “Go easy on her.” I didn’t. I won. Beat the dealer faster than her and won the tiara. That girl cried at the table. Thorne didn’t look impressed for once. He rather seemed... irritated. I thought it was for Elara’s sake. Turns out, it was for mine. A year later, same party, different stakes. The grand prize? My own sex video. While holding Elara in his arms, my husband said to me, voice almost amusing, “Don’t you like winning prizes? Then go on. Win our sex tape back.”

"I bet you can't make her like you." "Watch me." Neither of them knew the other one was having that exact same conversation. Ava Bennett has never lost anything worth keeping. Not competitions, not arguments, and certainly not the cheer captain election she has spent three years bleeding for. She is disciplined, intimidating, and completely immune to Mason Reed's charm. Or so she tells herself. Mason Reed has never met a girl he couldn't win over. Football captain, school golden boy, wanted by everyone and challenged by no one. Until Ava Bennett looks straight through him like he is nothing, and suddenly winning becomes personal. When their friends separately dare them to do the impossible, both accept. Neither knows the other made the same bet. So when Mason proposes a fake relationship, the terms are coldly practical. His playboy reputation is costing him his shot at the Elite Prospects Football Program, the most prestigious talent pipeline in the state. Ava needs the popularity surge to pull ahead in the captain election. They hate each other. They agree anyway. The rules are simple. No feelings. No jealousy. No catching feelings. They break every single one. But secrets this size never stay buried, and when the truth finally surfaces, it doesn't just destroy what they built. It forces them to confront the one question neither of them is brave enough to answer. If it started as a lie, how do you know when it became real? So...... Fake It With Me, Because the most dangerous game is the one where you forget you're playing.

"Im going to kiss the next person that strolls through those dorrs." ....................... It was only meant to proove a point. A tactic to show her friends that she was not so uptight. But Jacquiline should have known; she should have expected dire consequences that came with kissing the incredible hot handsome stranger that walked into the caffe that morning.   The kiss created such an uproar on the internet that she was now being paraded as the billionaire's mystery girlfriend, the first woman Enzo Harnandez had publicly shown off.  Forced into a contract marriage in a bid to silence the media, Jacquline plans flee as soon as she acquires enough money for a fresh start and her fathers mdical bills.  What Jacqueline doesn't expect however are the feelings that begin to stir up in the process of this fake marriage. What happens when she learns that the devilishly handsome Enzo Hernandez is smarter and even more shrewd than she made him out to be.  .............. "Oh princess, I'm a tad disappointed that you thought you could fool me," I heard him say coldly as he cornered me. "I've known all about your plans from the beginning. Now… strip and touch the bed frame. I'm going to fuck some sense into you." 

During the company retreat, my husband put my dignity on the poker table. He deliberately threw the game to the twenty-two-year-old intern, feeding her the winning hand and letting her bask in everyone's applause. I frowned and was about to speak, but my husband gently patted the back of my hand. "Don't take it too seriously, lady boss. Let the young girl have her fun." When the intern's gaze settled on the diamond bracelet around my wrist, I instinctively reached to protect the last shred of dignity I had left. Before I could say a word, my husband had already agreed on my behalf. "Fine. We'll bet that." Laughter erupted around the table, and my heart went cold. Just then, my baby suddenly stirred inside me, and a tiny voice echoed in my mind. 'Mommy, bet with her. I'm your little lucky charm. I'll make sure you win.' I raised my eyes to meet the intern's challenging stare. Then, without breaking eye contact, I slowly slipped the bracelet off my wrist.

My hand wraps around his wrist, and I try to break free of his hold. It’s no use, so I just dig my fingers into the tendons there and glare at him. “What the hell’s your problem?” His forearm presses against my sternum as he crowds me more, ice-blue mismatched eyes full of unchecked rage. “You’re my fucking problem. Hockey’s little golden boy, coming out here with your good game tonight, acting like you own the sport.” He’s trying to get under my skin, but it won’t work. Unlike him, I don’t let my temper control me, and I definitely don’t toss hands at the drop of a hat whenever I can’t rein in my feelings. Which is why he doesn’t get the reaction he was hoping for, and I snort out a laugh. “Seriously? It was a compliment. One I meant, so just take it and move the fuck on.” “Move the fuck on?”