Santana Or Else Forget About It Novels & Stories

Rule one: Don’t fall in love with me. Rule seven: Don’t let curiosity rot. Rule nine: Night stays in the dark. And rule zero, the one he didn’t say out loud: Alessandro De Santis always knows when you’re watching.

He was and is still my dream to be with when the day comes. Did I make the wrong decision? Won't I regret all the words I uttered that I consent to the annulment? [Music Playing] [Worth fighting for by: Howie D. Ft. Yu shirota] Oohh oohh oohh oohh oohh~ No necesito nada Solamente a ti solamente tu amor I was surprised when the car stereo started playing suddenly. "What if I won't agree with that f*cking annulment?" I heard Zik ask, as he stared at me.

Santiago pushed it away. "Stop it. Just stop, Martha," he snapped. "There is now no need for your pretense. Go away and leave me- us alone. For your information, I have regained my memory-" Martha gasped in surprise."Yes, I have. So, stop with the theatrics already." Martha gaped at Santiago for a few minutes. "You mean you remember... everything?" she asked in a small voice. "He does," I chipped in. She shot me a glare. "I wasn't talking to you, you-"

Especially when those ways have names. Sera. Especially when those names aren’t her. Aphrodite. --- But maybe the most dangerous thing? Is realizing you want someone to make you forget. Even if it’s just for a moment. Even if it means nothing. Even if it costs you your last piece of sanity. Because sanity means remembering. And remembering her… Will kill me.

My social psychology professor gave us a simple assignment: text the words I love you to the family member we were closest to, then record their first reaction. My parents had died seven years earlier in an ambush meant for the DeLuca family. With no one else to text, I sent the message to Roman DeLuca—the youngest Don in New York’s underworld and the man the court had once appointed as my temporary guardian. The typing bubble appeared and disappeared all night. At two in the morning, his answer finally came. [Mara, don’t confuse dependence with love. Whatever exists between us can never cross that line.] The next day, he stripped away every privilege he had ever given me, disconnected our p

The craving, the missing, the disappointment—it all started fading. By the time I was almost free of thinking about him, Nathan showed up again. He called me with a new number. "You think you're slick, huh? Running off to Eltoria without telling me? And staying away this long?" He sounded like he was complaining. "Come back. Now that I'm finally free, I'll travel with you." I answered flatly, "No, thanks. I'm traveling right now. Why should I drop everything just to run back to you?"

"You Useless Bitch listen here, if you don't satisfy whatever customer I send you, then your mom will pray for you why she has not kept her leg closed." My eyes brimming with tears. "Just shut your bloody mouth. I don't wanna listen to your irritating sobbing. Only satisfied the customer. Otherwise, I send you to the low-grade area where men were dogs and only saw women as a piece of meat and raped you brutally. Now tell me what you want. If you aren't satisfied then Billionaires will pay you well. And don't try to put a single word out of your mouth. Just keep quiet." We approach a group of half-naked women up ahead and he throws me growling "Get her ready She is about to give her first pr

His about to say something and I remember. "Oh right, Louis Enzo," There's something in his eyes once I say that. It even shocks me the amount of stuff I remembered. "Serine Santana," "Serine, or Rine. Santana is an absolute crime," I joke. "Oh definitely," he says and I gasp. "Hey!" I playfully hit him with my palm on his shoulder a bit. "What? You said it yourself," he grins.

Santos Rome could be a real jerk sometimes. It didn’t help that he was very handsome, and women fell all over him. He was a well-known and renowned playboy. He left the country six years ago, and I had already made peace with the fact that he would never return—that I would never set eyes on him again. Santos was the one man on earth I swore never to have sex with. It was a vow I planned to keep until the day I took my last breath. “What are you doing here?” I asked, composed. When did he get back to town, anyway?

I wish I could bring you back. I wish you could smile again. I wish we could talk again. I wish we could still hear your voice. I wish I could tell you how much we love you. I wish I could tell you and convince you this is not right. I wish to convince you that you had no right to end your life. I wish you would come back. If these wishes cannot come true, then, I pray to God to burn those, who made you commit suicide, in the fires of hell forever. Above all, I still wish you could come back. We Love You. You will always be missed, Sheffali. Rest in Peace.