Prep

Dressed in white, rose in hand and waiting for her husband at the aisle for more than an hour was never the kind of scene Stephanie Clark had ever thought about when fantasising what her dream wedding would be like. Hours passed, and unable to bear the murmurings anymore, she strode out of the wedding hall, and went straight to the groom’s prep room, expecting to find her soon to be husband with probably his groom's men. What she would have never expected was finding him deep inside her stepsister. She’s devastated and humiliated. Burning with the ache of rage, she turned around and grabbed the very first man she saw outside. To add to her list of unexpected situations for the day, the moment she pulled away, she realised the man she kissed was none other than her groom’s elder brother who was rumoured to be callously handsome, ruthless to the core, and worse, incapable of fathering children. She goes to a club to drink her sorrows away, only to end up in Zane's bed. Vengeance meets opportunity, Stephanie Clark and Zane Wright make a deal: he’ll give her everything she needs for revenge, wealth enough to vanish and start over but only if she gives him the one thing he wants most, an heir. Zane doesn't make it easy. He sets down five rules. No affection. No questions. No betrayal. No disobedience. No forgetting or deviating from the aim. It was all supposed to be easy. But when desire burns between them, what happens when one of the rules is broken?

“I told you,” he whispered against her mouth as his leg wedged between her legs. “The only thing you’re going to feel is me fucking you to the mattress until you’re screaming out my name. I’ll make you want it so bad that you’ll be begging me for it all the time.” Raina swallowed hard at his words and what they did to her. She was so wet and ready for him that it was embarrassing. “Now get your ass into my office. We need to discuss you taking some time off so your body can prep for the procedure unless you just want to bypass it and just let me breed you until you’re pregnant with my child. Either option requires you to take time off. Choice is yours.” *** Raina Winters, Alpha Kian Tara’s chosen female Beta, has been carrying a secret for years from her Alpha believing she would never ever be accepted by her Alpha as a desirable mate and suitable Luna. For years, she has watched her fated mate love another while she suffered in silence dangerously close to death until her Alpha and his childhood sweetheart break up, because he wants to find his fated mate. Even after their break up, she still keeps her secret. Too afraid to believe he’d ever see her beyond his Beta, she keeps silent. When the Elder Council puts pressure on Alpha Kian to produce a heir and to ultimately select his Luna, her Alpha and her twin sister offer a medical solution, to find a surrogate. The most eligible choice is Raina!

Liliana Adare wasn't expecting to fall in love with the enemy. After a chance encounter, Liliana's last year at "The Academy," a prestigious boarding prep school, turns into an unexpected romance with the biggest bully in school, the handsome and cruel Atticus Preston, she isn't sure she should believe her good luck. Practically overnight she goes from being one of the most bullied and reviled students on campus to being everyone's new darling. Little does she know it is all a game. The richest kids in school like to make other suffer for their amusement, and so they began "The Bully Games," a secret competition where the winner gets to position of "group leader" and the opportunity to shape the game for the year to follow. What Lily doesn't realize is that her new boyfriend is also this year's architect. And their relationship is anything but chance. Let the games begin! ___________________________________ I let my finger fall as the person's face slowly comes into focus and my brain realizes what I have done. Standing behind me is not a random stranger, it is a very particular person, one I've been trying to get out of my mind since yesterday. Atticus Preston, the most handsome, conniving, self-centered jerk on campus is staring down at me, his large hazel eyes full of amusement. "I'm sorry, were you trying to say something." “I ah…so…I…” I sputter, not quite able to catch my breath or find my words, lost in the golden glow of his eyes. “Atticus, I'm…” “Speechless, perfect,” his smile increases as he leans in close to whisper in my ear. “I feel that way when I see you sometimes too.” My heart rate increases and my breath quickens. Is he flirting with me? ...

When my parents got old, they needed someone to take care of them. Katerina—my younger sister—was off to Amiraka with her smug husband Chris. Meanwhile, I was crammed into a two-bedroom in Bellavaro with my husband Pavel, who drove a taxi. Mom had no retirement savings, so guess who she dumped herself on? Yep—me. Dad took the cash and ran straight to Katerina. Our place was tiny, but we still gave Mom the master bedroom. She hated it. Constant complaints, constant drama. According to her, life with me was pure misery. Every night, she'd hop on video call with Katerina, gushing about Amiraka like it was heaven, while throwing shade at me for not "taking care of her properly." Meanwhile, I was drowning—trying to hold it together for Mom, help my daughter prep for exams, support a husband with spine problems, and check in on aging in-laws. Mom didn't care. She wanted a plane ticket to Amiraka to party for Katerina's birthday. I snapped. We had a blowout fight, and she collapsed—brain hemorrhage. Even in her hospital bed, she stared me down, whining Katerina's name like a broken record. Then she spat out, "I should've never picked a useless daughter like you!" My chest cracked in half. I blacked out. When I woke up—I was ten years younger. Back to the day they decided who'd get stuck taking care of them. This time, Mom didn't wait. "I want Katerina to take care of me. It's my turn to enjoy life!"

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

Era la prometida de Ian Chávez, conocido como el "Príncipe Cisne", ofreció su posición de Primer Bailarín para casarse conmigo. Él, tan arrogante y solitario, sin embargo, ofreció la más absoluta sumisión en el escenario a mi coreografía de "La Corona Eterna". Tres años de estudio en París después, a mi regreso, descubrí que esa bailarina suplente, cuya espalda se parecía a la mía, ya se había adueñado de nuestro salón de ensayos privado. En la fiesta de bienvenida, Ian abandonó a los patrocinadores para correr detrás de la suplente, que lloraba. Tras el terciopelo del telón, escuché las palabras tiernas que nunca me había dirigido a mí: —Yamina, al principio te elegí porque eras su sombra, solo buscaba un sustituto. —Pero eres tan diferente, tu coreografía me embriaga, incluso más que la suya. —Solo asegurémonos de que ella no lo sepa antes de la función de despedida de “La Corona Eterna”. Desde el salón de ensayos llegaron gemidos sofocados y esa frase: —Te daré incluso mi posición de Primer Bailarín. Y justo allí, donde él una vez tomó mis manos y juró que Yo, Estrella López, sería su única alma gemela para toda la vida. Di la vuelta y me fui. De vuelta en el camerino y llamé al Sr. Díaz, su mayor rival. —Director Díaz, acepto el contrato para cambiar de compañía. Y por favor, prepáreme un regalo. Que la función de despedida de Ian se convierta en el mayor escándalo que el mundo del arte haya visto.