Romans & histoires I Found Me The Fray

I thought my life was sorted. I have a sweet fiancé Marcus, a cozy apartment and my wedding Pinterest board on lock. As The classic good girl, I saved myself for marriage, never gave anyone trouble and always made safe choices. That was until I met Marcus’ dad Victor. He is tall, suave and deliciously charming. Everything about him turns me on without trying. Just one handshake and my body lit up like fireworks. I panicked and told myself it was hormones. I avoided him like a plague and even gave Marcus my virginity few months to our wedding but it didn’t work. One girls’ night and one weird-tasting drink, I find myself in his bed begging like I’d lost my mind while he ruins me for his son. Now I dream him every night while Marcus snores beside me like nothing’s changed. He has no idea I’m picturing his father when he touches me and that it’s his dad’s name I’m biting back when I come. I tell myself in the mirror every morning:
“Stop! You’re not this person.” But the second we’re in the same room? My willpower cracks. This isn’t cute at all. It’s messy, embarrassing and terrifying.
 The safest choice feels lonelier every day and the dangerous one feels like I’m finally breathing. What am I to do when the person I’m supposed to marry isn’t the one setting my body on fire and the one who is happens to be the last man I’m allowed to want? How long can I keep this affair hidden from Marcus when the wedding is so close and Victor is determined to have not just my body?

I have been dating my manager boyfriend, Caleb Frost, for five years. He calls off our wedding 52 times for Gina Lowe, an aspiring actress on the set. On the day I am ready to give up on him and walk away, Gina falsely accuses me of using expired makeup on her that caused an allergic reaction. So Caleb shoves me into a sealed cellar and locks me inside. As he pushes me down, his face is twisted in disgust. "It's one thing to pick on Gina, but to use expired makeup on her and cause an allergy? Do you know how important an artist's face is? "Stay down there and think about your wrongdoings." With that, he drags the crying Gina to the hospital. The cellar's air vent is blocked. Every breath I take grows harder until I suffocate to death inside. Three days later, Caleb remembers me only after attending a gathering with Gina. But little does he know, I am already dead from the lack of oxygen in that dark cellar.

My boss, Patrick Hoffman, has made a bad investment that fails. When the board wants someone to be held accountable for the loss, he makes me the fall guy. Now that I've been fired from the company, I can no longer make my mortgage payments. My wife, Georgia Lowe, ends up falling seriously ill as well. In dire need of money, I ask Patrick for my severance pay. Sitting in his luxury car, he simply tosses me a few hundred dollars, saying, "You expect me to give you severance pay? I lost over a billion dollars because of you, Heath! How dare you ask me for money? "Here. Take these hundred-dollar bills and buy your wife a decent coffin!" My fists clench as I watch him drive off. Later that night, I drop a bombshell in a group chat filled with investors and business owners. "Seeking employment—bringing years of professional experience in cooking the books to the table. My former boss has nothing but praise for my abilities!"

The year I turned sixteen, the water supply of Moonlight Pack was contaminated. A desperate, burning thirst spread through every household. Owen was the one who found me half-dead and carried me home. His parents didn't just open their door to me. They shared what little water and food they had left. Everyone said it was because we were fated mates, destined to be together. But anyone could see the truth. His family loved me from the bottom of their hearts. The year I turned twenty, Owen asked me to be his mate. He gave me a silver dagger he'd forged with his own hands. He said that when he wasn't by my side, this dagger would protect me in his place. That very night, I used it to kill everyone in his family.

I had a best friend who was sweet as honey but only with her mouth. Behind my back, she was a demon. She stole my boyfriend, the underboss of the Chicago Outfit. Her excuse? She wanted to keep me away from the darkness and the blood, so she'd take the suffering in my place. She pawned her wedding ring and fed her husband some story about a limited edition bag for me. She skimmed from her husband's company accounts and pinned it on my male escort habit. She was pregnant and still wanted thrills. So she went to a full-blown orgy with her husband's uncle and a group of his associates. That's how she ended up hemorrhaging. But somehow it was my fault. I was the one who organized that kind of party, according to her. And her story? She tried to stop me, so I pushed her down and made her lose the baby. In the end, her husband sent me to a cartel hellhole in Mexico to atone for my sins. There, her lover sold me to the red-light district. First came the addiction. Then the streets. I served every man in their outfit, one after another. My body rotted. I died slow, sick, and alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night my best friend miscarried because of her own filthy party.

For three years, I’d used my family’s connections to bring the company hundreds of millions in revenue. But at the quarterly meeting, the new intern stood before everyone, displaying my attendance and expense reports, and accused me of “unexcused absences” and “squandering company funds.” “These high-end clubs, these restaurants…” she declared, her voice ringing with self-righteousness. “She spends thousands of dollars every time! These are completely unnecessary expenses.” “I strongly advise the CEO to fire her immediately and save the company’s cash flow.” I glanced at Claude, the CEO. My old classmate. He knew exactly how much revenue each of those meetings generated. He also knew that when I wasn't in the office, I was at some bar, negotiating with investors, sometimes drinking until my stomach turned. But he just stared at me coldly. “Caroline, what’s your explanation for the absences and expenses Lia has presented?” I smiled. “I have nothing to explain.” They would all learn, very soon, the consequences of this little stunt.

Elowen Renshaw thought she had it all– a future with a man she sacrificed everything for. But betrayal struck her when her groom chose her half sister over her under the guise of a dying wish. Humiliated and broken, she made a vow never to be the victim again. Not until Ryan Sylvarn came into play with a proposal—"Marry me Gattina. Give Owen a taste of his medicine.” Ryan was a renowned playboy notorious for his acts, more still he was best friends with her ex. ……. "You knew I was drunk yet you still took advantage of me knowing I'm your best friend's fiancée." "Oh that." He carelessly dismissed it and dropped the file he was holding on the bed beside me. "I thought he's marrying your sister, why keep the title?” ……… Will Elowen and Ryan be able to stay within the terms of their contract marriage?

Before our wedding, my fiancé, Carlo Vitale—the youngest Don on the East Coast—held a church ceremony with my stepsister. He said, "According to Mafia rules, only the woman who completes the wedding ceremony with me and receives the blessing of all the family is my true wife. "So even if your sister Elena is carrying my child, she's nothing more than a mistress." After the priest's blessing, they exchanged rings. I stood outside the church, watching through a curtain of rain as he kissed another woman. My face was white. I had loved Carlo for twelve years, from the ages of sixteen to twenty-eight. However, he had only ever had my stepsister, Sophia, not me, in his heart. I chose to let him go. Later, I left for Europe. All I left Carlo was a notice of our broken engagement and a parting gift. For some reason, the man who had always treated me with indifference seemed to have aged ten years overnight.

My life was left behind in that church fire. When the flames broke out, Cersei lied to me and said Jaeren was still inside. I didn't hesitate. I rushed into the fire without a second thought, only to save my fiancé, Jaeren. Then Cersei shoved me into the flames. By the time Jaeren found us, he picked Cersei up and turned away. He never looked back at me. I was swallowed little by little by the smoke and fire. Later, I stumbled out of the fire alone, covered in soot from head to toe. Jaeren frowned, his face full of impatience. “I didn't take you out first, sure. But couldn't you just call yourself a cab?” “Be glad Cersei is unharmed. Even your death in that fire wouldn’t clear your fault.” He didn't know that I had already suffocated to death in the flames. The one who walked out of the ruins was nothing more than a body still breathing. I made a deal with the vampire in the church basement, trading away my love for Jaeren and every tear I had ever shed for him. In seven days, on the night of the full moon, I will open my eyes again in the dark as one of her kind. From then on, I will no longer be trapped by love. And I will never shed another tear for Jaeren.

As the quality control supervisor of an import company, I need to finish up the storage of the final batch of king crabs before the holiday. Just after entering the subzero freezer, the door is immediately locked shut. The alarm system also fails. When I realize I'm starting to lose body heat, I immediately take out the hand warmers from the emergency kit. However, the moment I apply them, a chilling sensation makes me instantly realize something is wrong. I scream from the cold, and the walkie-talkie transmits the boisterous laughter of my fiance, Martin Clay. "We're live-streaming the challenge of locking the company's 'Ice Queen' in the freezer. Let's see how long she lasts!" The flirty voice of his female colleague, Lilian Saunders, also comes through, "Sierra, smile for the folks in the live stream! The number one donor wants to see it!" I instantly understand that they're live-streaming a prank on me. Not only do they lock me in the freezer, but they've also replaced my life-saving hand warmers with cooling patches meant for fevers! I grit my teeth, trying hard to stay calm as I call out to them for help. "The spare… spare hand warmers… Give them to me!" My fiance's voice rings out from the walkie-talkie, sounding unconcerned, "Oops! Lily gets cold easily, and it's her time of the month. The spares are all being used to keep her belly warm! "You're so healthy that you can just jump around a little and you'll warm up! You might even get some tips from the number one donor!" I stop arguing with them. With frozen hands, I pull out the signal flare gun and aim it at the most valuable and mysterious cargo in the freezer—a tube of frozen sperm worth 200 million dollars.