Marble Floors Lyrics Novels & Stories

“Her.” One word. That’s all it took for Alpha Cain Voss to destroy what was left of Wren Ashford’s life. Five years ago, Wren watched her pack burn. She was sixteen, covered in her mother’s blood, and the wolves who slaughtered her family let her live—but only as a servant. For five years, she’s scrubbed their floors, taken their beatings, and plotted her escape. Three more weeks. That’s all she needed. Then he came. Cain Voss is the most brutal Alpha in the region—a wolf forged in blood and fire who has never shown mercy. When he arrives to claim a tribute bride, every woman in the pack trembles. But Cain doesn’t want beauty. He doesn’t want submission. He wants Wren—because she’s the last living descendant of the ancient healers, and his sister is dying. He doesn’t explain. He doesn’t ask. He just takes. But there’s something Cain doesn’t know: Wren’s healing gift only works when she cares. And right now, the only thing she feels is hate. She plans to let his sister die—her revenge on every wolf who has ever taken from her. But as Cain’s cold exterior begins to crack, revealing scars that mirror her own, Wren realizes the monster who caged her might be the only one who truly understands her. And the Alpha who destroyed her pack? He’s still out there. He knows what Wren is. And he’s coming for her. She was his prisoner. Then his weapon. Now she might be his salvation—if she doesn’t destroy them both first.

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

Five years ago, Mannie accidentally had a night with a man. In result, she was pregnant with 8 children! When she thought she was going to raise the 8 babies alone, she met him again... That man, or should she say the Alpha, who took her first time five years ago... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He stepped closer, hands in his coat pockets. “I think I know you.” “I don’t think so,” I said, annoyed. “You were at a hotel five years ago.” I blinked. “Excuse me?” He stared at me like I was supposed to react. “It was raining. You were wearing a maid’s uniform.” I took a step back. “Are you for real right now?” “You don’t remember?” I laughed dryly. “I’ve worked in hotels, cleaned rooms, mopped floors, but I don’t remember you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t remember anything?” I shook my head. “Look, I don’t know what fantasy you’re living in, but I’m not part of it.” “I’m not guessing,” he said softly. “It was you.” “Wow,” I muttered. “Okay, so let me guess. You walk up to women, tell them you had a special night five years ago, and hope they fall for it?” “No,” he said firmly. “You feel... familiar.” “And you feel insane,” I snapped. “Why are you even following me?” “I just thought maybe we had a connection—” “No,” I cut him off. “You saw me on stage and thought I’d be an easy target. That’s all this is. Another rich man thinking he can throw out a few charming lines and get what he wants.”

At Manatee high, where wealth whispers through the marble halls and last names open doors, Emma Carter stands out for all the wrong reasons. She’s there on a scholarship — smart, quiet, and completely out of place among the designer uniforms and polished smiles. Her father works long hours as a construction worker, and her mother’s absence still echoes through every choice she makes. All Emma wants is to survive senior year unnoticed. Connor Hayes Charming, confident, and born into old money, he moves through school like he owns it — because, in a way, he does. But behind the perfect image lies someone quietly restless, bored of the shallow routines and expectations his family forces on him. When a class project throws Emma and Connor together, their worlds collide. What starts as polite conversation turns into stolen glances, late-night talks, and moments that make Emma question everything she’s been taught about people like him. For the first time, Connor finds someone who doesn’t care about his last name — someone who sees him. But no everyone is happy about it ,The whispers start. And soon, Emma isn’t sure if she’s part of Connor’s world — or just an experiment in rebellion. As emotions deepen, the line between love and heartbreak blurs. Emma learns that privilege comes with its own cages, and Connor realizes that sincerity can’t be bought. Together, they must decide whether what they have can survive the pressure of judgment, jealousy, and fear — or if love alone isn’t enough to bridge two very different worlds. “Emma and Connor” is a coming-of-age romance about class, courage, and finding where you belong — even when the world tells you that you don’t.

I stood on the pavement outside the townhouse that had been my sanctuary for ten years, watching the removal men haul out my life. Beside me, Lyle didn't even have the decency to look guilty. "It’s just business, Lolly," he’d said an hour ago, dropping the divorce papers onto the marble kitchen island. "You were a beautiful asset. But assets fucking depreciate." Now, I was a 'no one'. No money, no keys, and my reputation dragged through the mud. I stared up at the window of my bedroom. Krista – my ex best friend – was up there right now.. I turned. A man leaned against the frame of a waiting black saloon car. He didn't look like a bloody saviour. He looked like the devil, and right now, the devil was exactly what I needed. "I'm Franco," he murmured. "And I think Lyle just made the biggest mistake of his pathetic life. He thinks he broke you. I think he just let you off the leash." The heat radiating off his body was a phenomenal. I had just lost my husband, but standing this close to Franco, the only thing I felt was a sudden, violent ache. He held out an invitation. The Apex Bloom. A survival game for the elite. The prize is a billion pounds. But it doesn't reward beauty. It rewards the hunger of a woman who has nothing left to lose." A sharp shock shot through me, and I let out a soft gasp. He stepped half an inch closer, his thigh brushing against mine. He knew what that touch did to me. He wanted it just as much as I did. "Rule one," Franco whispered. "In my arena, the only way to bloom is to bleed. Are you ready?"

Sera Voss spent three years shrinking herself. Growing up as the hidden daughter of Alpha Caden Voss, she had been raised in power—marble halls, guarded doors, and a future carved in certainty. She was meant to lead. Instead, she chose Eli Grant. They met in a border town where she introduced herself as just Sera—no title, no legacy. Eli was easy, warm, uncomplicated. Loving him felt like freedom. So she gave up everything quietly and followed him into a smaller life, convincing herself she was happy being ordinary. Then Mila returned. Eli’s first love came back sharper, stronger, and impossible to ignore. Sera saw the truth long before he said it—that she was second place in a story that had started before her. Still, she stayed. Because leaving meant admitting she had chosen wrong. Eli ended it simply. Mila was his fated mate. He was sorry. Four days later, Sera learned she was pregnant. She told no one. She went home. The Voss palace received her without questions. Six months later, she stood before the continent—pregnant, composed, untouchable—and reclaimed her title. She gave birth to twin boys and rebuilt herself from the ground up: in law, diplomacy, and power. The girl who left for love returned as something far more dangerous. Years later, at the Continental Alpha Convention, Eli saw her again. Not the girl he dismissed—but a leader. A force. And before he could reach her, another man did. Alpha Dorian Crest crossed the room, addressed her by her full title, and stood at her side as if he had always belonged there. Eli spent the rest of the convention trying to find a moment alone with her. Sera never gave him one.

VINDEL THE BILLIONAIRE'S SPOILED DAUGHTER SUMMARY Vindel Holt had everything. Beauty, wealth, privilege—and the world at her feet. As the only surviving child of the Holt lineage, granddaughter of Guerrero Holt, the legendary billionaire founder of Agro One Apex, she was destined to inherit an empire that spanned continents. But privilege had spoiled her, arrogance had defined her, and manners had never mattered. Until the day her grandfather decided that being a princess wasn’t enough. In one cruel decision, Guerrero Holt froze her accounts, revoked her luxuries, and threw her out of the mansion. Overnight, Vindel went from a life of effortless power to a world where her name and money carried no weight. She found herself dismissed from every job she tried, mocked by staff, and forced to face the harsh reality she had never known. Her pride bruised, her fury uncontained, Vindel is thrust into the real world, and it is far less forgiving than she ever imagined. With no money, no servants, and no protection, Vindel is forced to navigate the world she once ruled from afar. From being mocked in luxury hotels to sleeping in cramped motels, every encounter humbles her, and every challenge teaches her lessons she never wanted to learn—respect, humility, and resilience. Yet, her fiery spirit refuses to be tamed. She lashes out, curses, destroys, and fights, proving that surrender is never an option for her. Amidst the struggle, Vindel discovers people who refuse to bow to her name, including the enigmatic Zayden, a man who sees past her wealth and refuses to be intimidated. As she works her way up from cleaning floors to learning the value of hard work, unexpected bonds form, transforming anger into passion, and arrogance into desire.

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.

His fingers were already at the lace between my thighs when he pushed me against the marble vanity, breath hot, voice darker than sin, his arousal pressing against my throbbing core. "Open your legs for me, Mrs Valentino." He didn’t wait. He plunged into me roughly, his mouth trailing down my neck like he owned it. I hated the way my body arched for him. I hated even more that he smirked when it did. I was supposed to be terrified, not trembling for the man who forced a ring onto my finger two days after abducting me. Before Dante Valentino touched me like that... before he whispered filth and promises into my ears, I was Valentina Morrison: a quiet girl, psychology graduate, volunteer counselor blissfully unaware that my entire life was a lie. I didn’t know the truth about my parents. I didn't know my bloodline belonged to a mafia empire that their hands were filled with blood. I only knew one thing the night I witnessed a murder in a Manhattan alley and it was that I was going to die...until he showed up. Dante, the most feared Italian boss in New York. He was ruthless and calculating. He didn't save me, he claimed me. Only because I’m not just some civilian. I'm the last surviving Castellano heir, the one piece of leverage that can rewrite the entire underworld. So Dante forced a marriage to protect me. To control me. To bind me to him in pleasure and law. And somewhere between running from gunfire and running from him, I made the worst mistake possible: I let the devil touch me. I let his hands teach my body a language my mind despises but my body craves. I let him explore me.

Lena Marchetti, twenty-eight, operates on fumes. Her father Marco's cancer treatments have swallowed her savings and the final credits of her degree. She interns at Croft Industries, a glass tower engineered to diminish. She is invisible, sweat gluing her blouse to her spine, until she drops Julian Croft's Montblanc pen. The crack on marble halts breath. She scrabbles on cold stone. When she lifts her chin, Julian crouches beside her. He doesn't retrieve the pen. He waits. His gray eyes hold hers, and heat floods her neck, damp and unwelcome. "You break it, you buy it," he says. "And you can't afford it." He leaves her kneeling. At 3:17 AM, her phone blares: Croft. Office. One hour. She goes. His office smells of leather and ozone. He slides a contract across the desk. Six months. Exclusivity. Her compliance. In exchange, her father's debt dissolves. Her signature slants, barely legible. After her best friend Dani labels Julian a sociopath, Lena sobs in the service elevator. He finds her. "Come with me." He escorts her to a 24-hour diner. He orders cherry pie, slides it across formica. She is wrecked—blotched skin, swollen lids. He studies her as if memorizing the topography of her distress. He teaches her to fence. She lunges, jabs his ribs. He laughs in that rusted, startled way that travels up her calves. She registers: I manufactured that sound. Elara Vance, Julian's former mentor who sold his first deal for a board seat, resurfaces. She invites Lena to lunch, offers employment. "He'll never perceive you as an equal. Work for me. Become a threat." The words burrow. Lena's palms dampen at his touch. While Julian travels, she picks the lock of a hidden room. A library.