Love Be Good To Me

Ember Vale, a runaway living under a stolen identity, crashes a mafia auction in search of answers about her missing father. But the moment she’s recognized by Lucien Vairo, heir to the deadly Vairo Syndicate, everything spirals. Instead of killing her, Lucien cages her suspecting she’s linked to the murder of his older brother, Rafael. Trapped in a world of enemies dressed as family, Ember navigates layers of deception, discovering that Rafael might have faked his death and that both her father and Lucien's powerful family are tied to it. But it’s Lucien she fears most. He’s cold, calculating, and yet... dangerously magnetic. As Lucien and Ember are dragged into a deeper conspiracy, their relationship evolves from hatred to obsession to a raw, passionate connection that neither of them trusts. Allies fall. Families betray. And old ghosts return with blood in their teeth. War breaks out between syndicates. Ember’s past comes to light. Rafael returns with his own deadly plans and Lucien’s father, long thought dead, emerges to reclaim his empire. In a final storm of betrayal, the couple must decide whether to fight for each other or let the past consume them both. In the end, love won’t be enough. Only survival. And someone always has to pull the trigger.

Ashley Tudor was once a talented ballet dancer until an unforeseen injury took her dreams away. Years later, Ashley finds herself bitter, broken, and without a boyfriend. When her junior year begins, she finds herself in the middle of two love interests Zander Hogan, her best friend's twin, and Aiden Buckland, a childhood friend. When ballet enters her life again, Ashley will need to figure out if chasing her dreams is worth breaking her heart.

I took a shortcut through the alley and watched Dante Marchetti put a bullet in a man like it was nothing. He saw my face. That was the end of my normal life. Within an hour I was in the back of his car being driven to an estate I had never seen before with gates that locked from the outside and a wardrobe full of clothes in my exact size waiting like someone had known I was coming before I did. He told me I wasn't a prisoner but a guest. He said people who wanted to find me were considerably worse than him and that his walls were the only thing standing between me and a conversation I wouldn't survive. Maybe he was right. The problem is the longer I stayed the harder it became to remember which one was true. Because the man who caught me in that alley wasn't the only version of him. There was another one that nobody else seemed to get to see. The one who stood alone in his dead mother's library looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. The one who had my cat brought to the estate because he heard me crying through a closed door and didn't know what else to do about it. The one who almost smiled when I threw a glass at his head. That version of him was the one I couldn't stop thinking about. I came here as a witness. I stayed as something else entirely. Somewhere between the locked doors, the candlelit dinners and the secrets we started sharing in the dark I stopped wanting to leave. The question was whether a woman like me could survive loving a man like him. I was about to find out.

Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. The story contains explicit adult content of a sexual nature and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18. "Say you're a slut." He said, watching her finger herself, absentmindedly stroking his dick. "I," she gasped, closing her eyes, but being thrilled at saying the words, "I am a slut.. oh, please fuck me." He turned her around, forcing her up onto her hands and knees. She felt him run his hands down her back, up her spread ass, and finally pull on her hips as he positioned himself behind her. She moaned and turned herself up for him, pushing her open cunt back onto him. He leaned forward and grabbed her braids, pulling her head back as he rammed his dick inside her hard. She cried out and tightened around his dick, "Oh god, yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard and dirty." She moaned out. "I'm a fucking slut. Hurt my pussy."

"since you can't pay me back what you stole from me, I own your life, all of you," London Malik whispered with a deep smirk at the corner of his lips as he pinned Kimberly to the wall. It was then that her innocent life took a different turn.

He stared down at me, his dark eyes burning with desire. His touch was electric, sending shivers through my body as his fingers teased me, leaving me breathless and aching for more. "You want this?" he murmured, his voice rough with need. I could barely think, barely speak—all I knew was that I needed him. "Yes..." I gasped, arching against him as his touch grew bolder, more demanding. Every stroke, every whispered word pushed me closer to the edge. I was lost in him, in the way he claimed me without hesitation. "Who are you?" he demanded, his grip tightening.” "I am your dirty little slut." I gasped... A month after her dad died, she moved to L.A.—to live with his best friend. A man rich enough to own the city, and powerful enough to stay untouchable. She thought it’d be awkward. Quiet. Maybe even safe. But then came the night. One mistake. One touch. And everything changed. Now they’re caught in something they can’t control. It’s wrong. It’s dangerous. And it feels way too good to stop. She knows this can’t last. He knows it too. But the more they try to stay away, the harder it gets to breathe without each other. And if anyone finds out— It won’t just break hearts. It’ll ruin lives. This story is rated 18+...

“Fuck me, Dante.” He was my uncle. Not by blood, but by name, by family, by everything that should’ve kept me safe from him. Instead, it made me his obsession. Dante Martinez—consigliere of the Italian mafia, the man who could dismantle empires with a single glance. One family dinner. One lingering gaze across the table. One move into his penthouse that became my undoing. He warned me not to test him. I ignored him. He promised he’d break me if I kept pushing. I pushed harder. Now I know what it means when a monster decides to love you—when his control snaps and you’re dragged into the darkness he rules. He says I’m his ruin. But Dante was never my salvation. He was always the sin I was born to crave.

At nine months pregnant, I suffered an unexpected miscarriage. My husband, Graham Pearson, fought back his own grief as he comforted me. He would whisper to me every day, trying to soothe my shattered heart, "Whitney, we will have children again someday. Our little angel was here for a while, and next time, we'll make sure we hold onto them..." Under Graham's careful care, I slowly began to pull myself out of the numb fog I'd been trapped in. But then, a month later, I overheard him talking to one of his friends. "If Whitney finds out the baby didn't actually die and that you've let Cassidy raise him, don't you think she'll flip out? You've worked so hard to get where you are; you can't let this mess it all up." Graham casually flicked his cigarette, his voice almost detached as he waved a hand dismissively. "Cassidy can't have kids, but she loves children. If this baby brings her joy, it's a blessing for the child, too. "I might never get the chance to be with Cassidy, but letting her raise my son, in some way, feels like a kind of fulfillment..." The truth hit me like a frozen wave, paralyzing me in place. It turned out this whole ordeal had been part of Graham's plan from the start.

Kidnapped? In a foreign country?? By a Mafia boss??? What else could possibly go wrong???? Hazel Bae had been looking for something for years but, before finding it, she ended up in a strange situation where she got caught after trying to steal from one of the biggest mafia clan's boss, Valek Vincenzo. *** "Hey!" I yelled but that was all I could say before he slammed his hands on the wall behind me and trapped me between them. "Since you think my kiss sucks." He looked down at me, "Let me show you how good I am at it." "Uh- that." I began to panic. What the hell! That was not the plan. Valek moved his face closer to mine and crashed his lips onto mine. I tried moving him away with my hands but he grabbed my wrists and slammed them on the wall next to my head and continued his act. At first, I was angry and wanted to just pull away but I couldn't. My legs started getting weak and butterflies churned in my stomach as he kissed me deeper. His lips moved artistically, such that it was captivating me. His slow-to-fast movements were perfect to lure any woman into the act. I was wrong. Very wrong. He was amazing at it. His kiss was so good I ended up giving in and kissing back. He let my arms go and placed his hands on my cheeks while I grabbed his wrists. He explored my mouth with his tongue, in places that felt so good I felt my knees go weak. Oh, God... This is bad... This is very bad.

I'm eight months pregnant when I suddenly faint on the train. My husband panics and cries for help as he kneels beside me. An interning doctor hurries to me. She doesn't bother checking my condition before saying, "The patient needs to undergo a C-section! We have to get the baby out now, or it might die of suffocation!" Then, she slices me open with a fruit knife—she doesn't take any precautionary measures before doing so. She takes my child out. I'm in so much pain that I don't even have the strength to scream. My blood flows everywhere. Yet, a photo of her holding my baby while standing in a pool of blood goes viral. People call her the prettiest doctor alive. My husband and his family are eternally grateful to her. They don't go after her for causing my death; they even make her my child's godmother! Meanwhile, I'm given a simple cremation. No one cares about me. After my death, all my assets go to my husband and his family. Only then do I hear my husband and the doctor talking to each other, sounding smug. "This plan killed two birds with one stone. We got rid of that woman and made ourselves out to be heroes!" That's when I learn the interning doctor is my husband's junior from high school. They got together when he accompanied me to my prenatal checkups! She failed her internship, so my husband came up with this idea—he wanted to use my death to boost her reputation and help her! Even my child eventually died under their "care". When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day we get on the train.