Naruto Punch

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.

Cancer took away her first love and Regina view on life changed. She wants to fulfil her dead boyfriend wishes as that was his last wish. On her flight to Greek, to attend the wedding of her cousin, she met Alex Pierce a billionaire who was named as a most promising young entrepreneur. In additional to that he was popular, having his article written on magazine with a printed photo of his. An fate decides, Regina met Alex Pierce through an unfortunate event that lead to hate relationship between them. Appointed as the bridesmaid and groom's best men, lead them to a different path. Where does this adventure to fulfil the dead boyfriend lead them? excerpt "How dare you," I raised my hand, but he got hold of it and shoved it down. Frustrated, I punch his chest as hard I can. After few punches, he grabbed both my hand and push me away. Thinking that finally he freed me, I turned my heel away from him. "I'm saying this again, you're delusional if you think you are living your live. It is not. You're living in his dream. His wishes," he seethed. "I love your free spirit, but you are so caught in your past that you don't see your future," he continued as his grip on my hand on body loosened. "I don't know how many wishes left, but I'm ready to fulfill it with you," he roared behind me as I walked away from him. Stunned, I stopped walking. Turning my head, I can see his shadow from the corner of my eyes, "Why? I'm delusional right then why are you joining this delusional woman?" I asked sarcastically. "Because, that's the only way to be with you and maybe I can break your illusion,"

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere. He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world. Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face. Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed. [Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.] Then I saw Livia’s new post. It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me. The caption was a gut punch: [No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ] The cold hit me. Bone deep. He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance? The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out. I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart. When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco. The last one came in thirty minutes ago: [Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.] I didn't reply. An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?