Floor Masters Hxh

"It's over between us, honey." I said to Clyde, flinging the divorce papers at him. You don't want to be the bad guy, am I right? Well now, you don't have to worry about who the bad guy is." He watched the papers flutter to the floor, dumfounded. They assumed she was still in a coma and so wouldn't see them. Even if she wasn't, this wouldn't be the first time her dear husband would kiss another woman in her presence. She saw nothing. But the slurps and moans woke her from the state of coma. The raptures and gasps had kept her from resting, and their shivers of pleasure caused a tear to drop from her eye. She collapsed making lunch for him. But here he was, making out with a woman she considered to be her best friend. All she could think of was revenge, and she knew who was perfect for the job. Not only was she going to get back at him, she was going to show her true identity now. She comes out of the hospital with his twins inside of her and left him alone with the realization that his life was about to change forever. Whisked away to a different world, Everleigh finds love in the arms of Clyde's arch nemesis. Love, hate, betrayal, resentment, envy and secret babies. It all started with one good kiss on the wrong lips, and a lot of lies to the wrong ears.

“Please... spare my life,” she whispered, her voice trembling like the last leaf clinging to a winter branch. Blood trickled from her split lip as she pressed her forehead to the cold marble floor, her entire body shaking with terror. “I treasure what belongs to me,” he replied, his voice cold and deadly. His gloved hand gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his merciless gaze. “And as of tonight, little ghost... you belong to me.” Born from a one-night stand between a mafia lord and a maid, Liliana Orlov entered the world with her mother’s blood staining her face. Her father, Don Nickolas Orlov never let her forget who she was - a curse! While her half-sisters wear silks, she scrubs floors. While they dine in gold-lit halls, she eats their scraps. She was the family’s whipping girl, blamed for the empire’s weakness-no male heir, no future. Then, the unthinkable happens. To end a decade-long war, Nickolas sold Liliana to his greatest enemy Mikhail Volkov also known as “The Reaper” the heir to the most powerful and brutal mafia dynasty. Her fate was sealed. She entered into a forced marriage to secure peace. Thrown into a gilded cage, Liliana faces a man more merciless than her father. Is survival enough… or will she dare to want more? Or Will a man who rules through fear finally learn to kneel to love? Find out more in the story!

Alexander's mistress was pregnant. He turned his back on me without a shred of hesitation, canceled our marking ceremony, and brought her home instead. As he passed by, he didn't even look at me. He just left a brief order hanging in the air. "She's weak. You know medicine. From now on, you'll handle her meals." When he reached the first floor, he paused again. "She's pregnant. She can't be frightened, and she needs me to sleep beside her." His voice was flat, devoid of any feeling for me. "There are plenty of empty rooms. Move out of mine." I packed my things quietly, without a word, and walked out of the estate. The butler tried to stop me, but Alexander's voice cut through the hall, cold and final. "Let her go. Once she cools off, she'll come crawling back on her own." His men, watching the scene unfold, exchanged amused glances. They even placed bets right in front of me—how many minutes before I'd regret leaving and come running back. But none of them knew the truth. The Alpha King my parents had chosen for me had already sent a car to wait for me outside the gate. This time, I wasn't coming back.

"You really think you can seduce the Alpha looking like that?" The mischievous grey wolf beside me whispered. He was trying to make me give up, but I had to come out the victor in these games for my pack and my family. He slowly took one clawed finger and slipped the strap of my silk burgundy floor length gown off my shoulder in front of the whole table of wolf royalty. "That's a little more like it," He coaxed, "Look at him with all of those other attractive wolves to choose from. You'll never catch his attention like this." I stared at the end of the table where the Alpha sat. He was dark of hair and broad of chest and always had a smile and was willing to lend a paw to a wolf in need. He was laughing at something the stunning blonde she-wolf beside him had said and that cheerful couple drew a sharp contrast from the unknown man on his other side. I couldn't even be sure that man was a wolf at all, he was pale and lean but his eyes were dark, cold and...and never seemed to leave my face. "Just give up the games now," the grey wolf continues, "fall into my arms instead I can take care of you just as well as some fancy Alpha can. Close your eyes, you won't even notice the difference." I felt his tongue from my collar bone to my jaw.

Two years into my marriage with Don Dante, my ex came back. Julian, the man who shattered my heart five years ago. He announced he was getting engaged. And he wanted me as his mistress. "I know I hurt you," he said. "My family looks down on mob ties. It was never going to work. But now? I'm marrying Tiffany. I'm taking over the family empire. I can finally afford to keep you." I just sneered at him. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be married?" He scoffed. "What decent family would have you? The daughter of a mob underboss? Don't be ridiculous." His arrogance made me sick. When I refused, he slapped a black card on the table. Told me to buy whatever I wanted. He said he'd pick me up next week. That we could spend every weekend tangled up in his bed. I spat on the floor at his feet. "Get him out," I told my guard. "And take his trash with him." He didn't get it. Not then. But he would. The moment he found out who I married. I didn't just marry anyone. I married the king of the Chicago underworld. A man he could never touch. And when he finally figured it out, he lost his goddamn mind.

It was not an ordinary day for Tara Davis. It was her first time to go to the heart of the city alone after being asked by her cousin to do the interview for her, a favor she could not say no. She did the interview without knowing the questions inside the brown envelope. When she reached the top floor of the Williamson Hotel, she found him busy looking for some files on his table and asked if it was okay to conduct the interview with him. Blake Williamson, amused that there was one person, who did not recognize him, decided to accept the interview and pretended to be Sam, his personal secretary. The interview became more interesting for him when they found out that it contained dirty questions related to . He became more interested in her because, despite the questions, she did the interview professionally. She was the first woman he met who seemed not interested in him, unlike other women who were always ready to undress in front of him. For him, Tara is an extraordinary woman who enchanted him. She was like a transformed live-action character from fairy tale stories who still believes in true love and simple life can still make you happy. Blake believed he was the perfect man for her until he found out that she was looking for an honest man with great conviction in life, and definitely not a millionaire, the exact opposite of him. He lied the first time they met, and the truth was that he was not just rich, but a renowned youngest billionaire in the country.

In the past, I was Raymond Wright’s wife. Or rather, a prisoner kept in his gilded cage. I was an internationally renowned jewelry designer. Under the spotlight, I had the most dazzling presence. Raymond was the most influential business elite on Floor Street, and he had an extreme desire for control. He claimed to love me, but he never truly loved me for who I was. He was determined to shape me into the “perfect Mrs. Wright” that existed in his imagination. He disliked me having my own social circle and hated it when I appeared in public. I once naively believed that if I were obedient enough, he would eventually recognize my sacrifices. The turning point came at a banquet. Someone there publicly mocked me as “nothing but a canary kept by Mr. Wright.” I could bear it no longer and retorted. Raymond rushed over and coldly scolded me. He said, “Behave yourself. Don’t embarrass me.” At that moment, the surrounding snickers and the disgust in his gaze forced the truth upon me. Ultimately, I fell down the stairs in an “accident” orchestrated by my stepsister. When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by a warm-toned pendant lamp in the apartment I lived in before I married Raymond. On the desk calendar, a date was circled in red—there were only five days left until my wedding to Raymond. I had returned to the past. This time, I did not want to get involved with Raymond anymore.

Isabella Romano's idyllic existence falls apart in just one week. Her engagement and career have been ruined, and the only place she can go is to her father's construction business. Finding herself in front of Dominic Castellano, her dad's business partner, best friend, and the man she's desired since she was eighteen, is the last thing she expects. For years, Dom has avoided contact with Vincent's daughter. She is everything he shouldn't want, off-limits, and prohibited. His good intentions, however, are immediately dashed when she arrives, broken and desperate. A single touch triggers another. An uncontrollable fire is started by a single kiss. With a hunger that had been growing for years, he forced her against the office wall and framed her face with his rough hands before snatching her mouth. "This is insane," he growled against her lips while his fingers entangled themselves in her hair. "Then stop," she said softly. No, he couldn't. He couldn't, God forbid him. As he raised her, plans strewn across the floor, her legs encircled his waist. It was everything he had denied himself: the taste of her, the sensation of her gentle curves on his. She gasped as his lips touched the tender region on her neck. "Dom," she said. "Please—" “Dom? "You in there?" The door opened and Vincent's voice roared in. Both of them froze

When the mafia heir, Marco Gallante, barged into the family vault with his mistress, I was standing before the Virgin Mary statue, cross-checking bloodstained ledgers. Fiore Albero cowered behind him, pointing at the ledgers in my hands and shrieking, "Marco, I'm scared..." I did not even bother looking up, just flicked the ash off my cigar. However, Marco kicked the desk over with one swift boot. "Chiara Moltisanti, Fiore can't stand the sight of all this blood and violence. Sign the divorce papers, now!" I stared at the mess scattered across the floor, thinking back to the pregnancy report the family doctor had handed me just ten minutes ago. The Gallante bloodline was dying out in this generation. Ever since the eldest son, Luca Gallante, died in that accident, Marco became the sole heir. The Don, Carmine Gallante, dreamed of nothing more than a legitimate boy of pure blood to carry on the family name and glory. So, I smiled, bright and sharp, with unmistakable mockery. "Perfect. Since you want true love, then the Don's throne will never be yours." Besides, I never wanted Marco, that useless fool. What I wanted was the Gallante empire, a mafia dynasty spanning three continents with 100 years of roots, and the control that left him with nowhere to run and no legs to stand on. This time, I would cut him out completely, keep the bloodline, and sit at the head of the family.

My younger brother, Owen Rivera, and I are playing in Dad's refrigerated truck. Owen wants to grab my ice cream from me, but I refuse to let him have his way. He shoves me forcefully, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the floor, knocking me out on the spot. When I finally wake up and locate him in the freezer, I find out that he's gotten reduced to a frozen statue. The security footage shows that Owen has been screaming the words "Mommy, help me!" hysterically for three hours before his death. After Mom is done watching the footage, she breaks down on the spot. Then, she yanks me by my hair before slamming me against the wall. "What were you doing? You were at the entrance, dammit! Why didn't you open the door for Owen?" With reddened eyes, Dad throws me into the freezer. "Owen was cold and frightened in the freezer! You should have a taste of the same thing too!" The thick and heavy door is slammed in my face. Darkness and a bone-chilling coldness devour me instantly. I curl into a small ball in the corner Owen has just died in. My teeth are starting to chatter, and my consciousness is starting to slip away. I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I don't feel cold. I'm not cold at all. I will never eat ice cream ever again in my next lifetime.