Goldia Pocket Mirror

Meet Madison Lane, a passionate sports journalist with a heart as resilient as the toughest hockey puck. When she's assigned to cover the upcoming championship series, Madison never expected that her professional life would collide with the rugged world of the Coldridge Icebreakers. The very man she cannot stand for his man whorish ways is to be the centerpiece of her coverage, when she has to cover him 24/7 AND move in with him. Alex Stone the man whore of the hockey scene has no time for a sports journalist living in his back pocket, especially not one that he can't take his eyes off and control himself with. She is everything he doesn't want in his life besides, she is becoming his biggest distraction. But when a fake dating scheme orchestrated by the team's public relations team throws Madison and Alex into a whirlwind of media attention, their worlds collide. They're forced to show the world they are a couple. Will their fake relationship become blurred around the edges and become the real thing?

Michele Giuliani successfully takes the throne as the leader of the mafia forces in Costa Morala. During an interview, a reporter asks, "According to our observations, you've never concealed or removed the old alphabetic tattoo below your collarbone. Does that mean it has a special meaning to you?" Michele shakes his head with a sneer. "Five years ago, my fiancee, Alma Rossito, looked down on me because the Giulianis had lost their power and authority among the families. So, she ran off to be with another rich man. "Whenever I wanted to give up, I'd be reminded of her betrayal as soon as I laid my eyes on this tattoo. "Now that I've lasted this long, I just want to personally ask her a question." Michele digs out his phone and dials the number he has pinned at the top of his contact list without hesitation. "Alma, do you regret dumping my ass the moment I was kicked out of my family?" I turn the camera toward the chaotic underground casino and reply lazily, "Yeah, I regret doing that to you, Don Giuliani. But I've lost every cent under my name on horse-betting. Can you transfer 50 thousand dollars to me first so that I can earn my money back?" Michele ends the call instantly before punching the mirror next to him. The cracks in the mirror happen to reflect the dark tattoo beneath his collar. What Michele doesn't know is that I'm being held in the casino by loan sharks. Five years ago, I had taken out a huge loan from them and bribed the necessary connections as an anonymous party. That was how Michele got the opportunity to turn the tides in his favor and become the mafia king.

[MATURE CONTENT 21+] I'm not sure if I'm here, at the moment, I don't know if I'm screaming or begging him to stop as the weight of his hands on my back feels more apparent. Maybe I'm just helplessly drowning in my despair with only silent tears running down my face. Nothing matters because even my mind could not wander off and protect me for long enough to silently surrender to a horrific situation. "You lied to me, You lied to me! You said you wouldn't do this if I " The words slip away as I sob and cry out in pain. "Hm..”" Alejandro lets out a breathless chuckle, "I did?"One of his hands leaves my hip, reaching down to wrap around my throat, forcing my back into an arch so I'm faced with the reflection of myself in the mirror. It is so I can watch the deranged, lustful look in his eyes as he roughly thrusts himself in and out of me while choking me against his hand at my throat.This is cruel. This is disgusting. This is shameful. But it makes Alejandro smile in pleasure, in pride, that he's able to break me and bend me into his will. "I believe I said that I was fine if you wanted to wait, " he admits. "However, I never said how long. "The reflection of myself in the mirror is someone unrecognisable; she's broken, and angry. I can see my eyes darken in misery, in hatred. The mirror also provides me with Alejandro's expression, filled with contentment and satisfaction. "I HATE YOU," I spit out with every inch of dignity that I may have left. The statement left no mark on Alejandro, instead, he thrusts into me harder, making me cry out but I didn't care, not anymore.

I glue my back to the door hoping it would swallow me up as a whole. “Is my feisty kitten scared now?” his 6’2 tall figure towering over me. Pulling up his right hand from his pocket, he grips onto my nape, bringing my face infront of his, mingling our breaths. I attach my hands to his chest in an attempt to put some distance between us. My efforts turn futile when he won’t budge but instead shoves his face into the crook of my neck inhaling my scent. “There is no point in running away now, kitten. You are already trapped” he speaks against my skin. Sparks erupt through my body, travelling down my spine and settling between my legs. Another hand going around my waist pulling me closer to dig his face deeper into my neck. “No wonder you always had men swarming around you all the time!” his deep growls affecting me in a way it shouldn’t.

My husband had just ducked into the bathroom when his phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen and saw it was his brother calling. A frown creased my brow, but I answered anyway. "George, why haven't you sent the $10,000 to Mom and Dad this month?" Ross Serrano said. "Mom just asked me about it." I hung up without a word, but a rush of fury surged through me. My husband stood at the bathroom door, his hands still dripping wet. I forced a bitter smile. "You make $8,000 a month, right? $3,000 goes to the mortgage, $2,000 to me, and you pocket $1,000 for yourself. You told me you sent $2,000 to your parents, so how did that magically turn into $10,000?" His lips quivered, his face draining of color. My heart sank, and my hands trembled uncontrollably. We'd been married for five years, and I'd never once laid eyes on his bank card. What other secrets was he keeping from me?

Trevor Farren cheated on me—with a hostess, no less. He bought her a villa, handbags, necklaces, and even whisked her away to the Maldives. Everything I had, she had too. In my fury, I resolved to retaliate. I found myself in the smoky halls of a nightclub, learning shameful, provocative moves from the women there. I would seduce him and make him fall for me all over again. I vowed to crush him in the end. I'd ruin him. Strip him of everything he held dear until he tasted the bitterness of despair, the way I had. Standing before the mirror, I traced my curves with a sly smile. "Trevor, do you like what you see?"

Seven years of marriage and Adrian Reeds never once bought his wife a gift. But he spent ten thousand dollars on a diamond bracelet for his secretary. Elise Vitale found it in his jacket pocket on a Tuesday. By Friday she had signed the divorce papers, boarded her private jet and left without a single tear. What Adrian never knew — what nobody in his world knew — was that the quiet, obedient wife he had neglected for seven years was the only daughter and heir of Don Victor Vitale, the most feared mafia boss in the country. She had hidden it to protect him. He had used her silence to humiliate her. Now the gloves were off. Adrian thought divorcing Elise would free him. Instead it started a war he had no weapons for — because the moment Elise walked back through her father's doors, she stopped being a wife and became what she was always born to be. A queen. And queens do not forgive. "You wanted a housewife. Congratulations — you had one. Now meet what I actually am."

Grandpa died, and we immediately went for each other's throats over the inheritance. Then a blizzard hit, trapping us all in the family estate. An app appeared on our phones: [THE LAST ZOMBIE: FINAL RECKONING]. We had to pick a hiding spot. The last one standing—the last human standing—would inherit everything. I chose the dark, silent recording studio in the basement. Away from them all. When it was time to pick special powers, my family chose powerful weapons or pocket dimensions full of supplies. I chose Bio-Stasis. It slowed my cells to a crawl, and my body along with them. My stepbrother's fiancée, Chloe, called me an idiot. "Hiding from your family and picking a useless power? You're on a suicide mission." They threw a zombie-slaying party upstairs, already celebrating an inheritance they hadn't even won. Until, one by one, they turned. And started tearing each other apart. What they didn't know... was that I'd rigged the game from the start. The only way to win was to stay completely silent.

Her new triplet step-brothers successfully blackmailed her into being their mistress, but why did feel she attracted to them? **** Welcome to the family, Cassandra," Jared smirked, getting up and putting his hand in his pocket to hide his obvious bulge. "You should not have done that," I said, getting up after him, my face red from embarrassment. "We're step-siblings." And why was I feeling aroused from just a peck? "No." He said that with a very strong voice. “My Dad married your mother and that's where it all ends. My offer to share the room still stands." After Cassandra's lover’s death, her mother invited her to leave the witch coven she grew up in and grab a vacation at her husband’s mansion. Little did she doesn’t know that she would be sharing the house with her stepfather's triplets, and they are three Lycans. The discovery was unexpected to the powerful witch, what’s more surprising was… she was attracted to them, not just to one of them, but to all of them.

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.