Ogawa Massage Chair

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

"You have this beauty that captivates men, don’t you? There were plenty of naked women in this room, but the second you walked in, the men lost control. They wanted a piece of you. They wanted to own you." His fingers trail down my jaw, tilting my chin up. "Not knowing you already belong to me." I swallow hard, my breath caught in my throat. He moves away, settling into a chair with ease. He unbuttons his coat, leans back, spreads his legs apart like a king, which I guess he is... And then, his voice turns lethal. "From now on, Ariella Costa, you are mine to use. Mine to play with. Mine to do with as I please." The words hit me like a heart attack. "Your body belongs to me. Your mind belongs to me. Your soul belongs to me." He smirks, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "I own you."

"What did they say?" He asked, almost too calm and very curious. "An animal fled with her." "They are lying! I want them in prison, till they tell me what happened to my daughter!!" He bellowed, clenching his fist while sitting on his blue, gold railed chair, beside his bed. "They are telling the truth." Seansha tried to reason. "No! They helped her hide away. They hid her, they know exactly where she is. And they will be tortured until they tell me the truth!" He barked furiously. • Ruby William is a modern teenage girl with a good family, good friends and a moderately perfect life. Until the night she turns eighteen, and gets stuck in a dream. Ruby fights to go awake, choosing her real life over her dream, which seemed too perfect. Things are opposite the way they appear, as those who are close to her or share a resemblance with those she loves, are harbinger of her demise.

Ten years ago, Elena, my best friend and my foster brother Alexander's fiancée, was tortured to death, every bone in her body crushed. I was the only witness, yet I chose to cover for the sadistic murderer. From that day on, I became the Family's greatest traitor. I accepted a ten-year prison sentence and bit off half my tongue just to keep that secret buried. Now, Alexander has returned as the most ruthless Don in Sicily. He dragged me out of my cell and strapped me into the memory extraction chair—a machine known to turn traitors into vegetables. As high-voltage currents tore through my brain, Alexander stared at me with eyes full of hatred and roared, "I will cut open your brain to find the bastard you’re protecting, and then I’ll send you both to hell!" But when the true killer's face finally appeared on the big screen, Alexander went mad.

I was born blessed by the god of fortune. No matter where I work, I can close major deals while lying down asleep. The underboss of the Castellano mafia family discovers this secret. He shows up at my door personally and invites me to join as a consigliere in name only. He offers me a six-figure annual salary and chauffeur service. He even installs a special ten-foot-wide massage bed in my office just for sleeping. After I join the Castellano family, arms deals finalize one after another. Several stalled collaborations come back to life. The Castellano family's reputation climbs steadily. Until the boss' girlfriend shows up to inspect for the first time. She grabs a pair of scissors and, in front of everyone, shreds my mattress to pieces. "Useless! We don't pay you all this money to sleep! "Starting tomorrow, you're working as a bar hostess. And you'll be paid like one too." I rub my sleepy eyes and stare at her in confusion. Last night, to help the Castellano family finalize that casino operation rights contract, I didn't sleep a wink. I barely fall asleep, so how am I useless? The soldato beside her breaks into a sweat. "Signora, she's…" "Shut up!" she cuts him off arrogantly. "From now on, I'm the one in charge of the Castellano family!" Fine. Since there's no place for me here, I'll find somewhere else to sleep. I hear the rival family's boss is willing to give me an entire luxury estate.

“You don’t always have to say something, you know that, right?” I said, my voice sounding strange in my ears. “You need to stop talking down on people just to massage your stupid ego!” ***** The worst thing about suddenly changing schools is the part where you think it's your chance to begin from the top—take life by the reins and navigate it in the direction you've always wanted. That was what Sydney Walker thought when her boyfriend, Chase Monroe, released private pictures of her right before he left the town. Then a week after, her father is found dead in the cold rain. She was forced to go live in a whole new city with her family which she barely knew, giving her hope that she could start afresh. But news flash: she's still the same plus size, introverted nerd even in her perfect sister's kind of clothes. And Tyler Sinclair—Lakeview’s golden boy, never called it a day if he didn't remind her that she was three times her sister's size, up to their senior year. But the more he punches her in the guts, the more circumstances around her push her to fight back. But when? And how would she finally square up to the one boy that toxic part of her secretly wants to see every day? And what about Tyler? Are his insults just mere “tease” or is there something going on in his family that no one else knows about?

At my lowest point that year, I took a job at a pet shop, where I was assigned to take care of a "gentle-tempered" silver-white Alaskan Malamute. Every time I went near him, he would lift his head and bury his nose against my chest, breathing in low, rough sounds that felt disturbingly like a grown man holding himself back. Especially when my hand brushed through his beautiful fur, his body would heat up, and his eyes would darken and burn with unmistakable possessiveness. Thinking he was sick, I rushed to find the shop owner. The owner gave me a long, meaningful glance. "He's not sick. But he only acts like this with you. "You need to bathe him, give him a full-body massage, and try giving him a little kiss. Otherwise, he might lose control." I had my doubts about the whole thing, but I didn't really have a choice. I went along with it anyway. Eventually, I told the friend who had gotten me this job everything that had been happening. After she heard me out, she went quiet for a second. Then, she looked at me strangely and said, "Have you ever thought that maybe you're not looking after a dog at all? What if he's actually a werewolf who can take human form, and he's in heat, using pheromones to mess with you because he wants to… You know, sleep with you?"

Aisla Lindon was born an Omega—but not a weak one. Betrayed by her father, sold into marriage, and stripped of her inheritance, she flees to Blackthorn Werewolf Military Academy—where four ruthless alphas rule with iron fists. The Hunter brothers: Hughs - cold professor and biker gang leader . Cayden - silver-tongued senior who destroys reputations. Hades - silent predator with dark intentions. Hank - cocky troublemaker who wants her. Hank’s leaned down, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in again. “Not like that.” Cayden pushed off the door, his steps silent on the rich rug. “He said sit. He didn’t say how to sit.” He came to her other side, a mirrored image of his brother. “Let’s be specific.” Hughs voice dropped to a husky, wicked whisper. “Spread your legs.” Hades leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing her ear. “Our little stepsister needs a good punishment.”

On our sixth wedding anniversary, my cheeks burn as I dodge my husband, Ethan Grant, leaning in for a hungry kiss. I push him toward the nightstand for a rubber. What he doesn't know is that I've tucked a surprise in there, a positive pregnancy test. I can already see it, the way his whole face will light up the second he finds it. But the moment his hand goes for the drawer, his phone goes off. His best friend, Henry Miller, comes on the line in Danish. "Mr. Grant, how was last night? That new love couch our company rolled out is treating you okay?" Ethan lets out a low laugh and answers in Danish, "The massage feature's great. Saves me from having to rub Sandy's back myself." He still has me pulled tight against him, but his eyes look straight through me, like he's seeing someone else. "This stays between us. If my wife ever finds out I slept with her sister, I'm done." It feels like someone just put a knife through my chest. What they don't know is that I minored in Danish in college, so I catch every single word. I force myself to stay calm, but the arms I have looped around Ethan's neck won't stop shaking. At that moment, I stop hesitating and decide I'll take the offer from that international research project. Three days from now, I'll be gone from Ethan's world for good.

Nikita's curse wasn't something that could simply be fixed, like a broken chair or a shattered vase. It was an immutable part of her, woven into the very fibres of her being. Accepting this truth had been a necessary act of survival, one she had embraced long ago, and she knew that the sooner others accepted it, the better. Cursed at a tender age due to her father's unkindness, Nikita was fated to bring death to anything she touched. This curse was a punishment meant to ensure that her father’s bloodline ended with her. The gravity of her curse revealed its brutality when, at just six years old, she accidentally killed her own mother with a simple touch. As years went by, her father's harsh reign eventually met its end, and Nikita inherited his throne, becoming the leader of her pack. However, at her father's funeral, destiny intervened in the form of Rykor, the son of a man who had so cruelly cursed her. Intrigued by the dark and cold Nikita, Rykor saw more than just the curse that shadowed her existence.