Spin The Bottle

One of Ethan Sterling's closest friends got drunk and humiliated me. Called me a nobody orphan who married above her station, said I'd never be accepted by the Sterlings, that I wasn't fit to sit at their table. Ethan smashed a bottle over the man's head. He announced in front of everyone that if anyone ever disrespected me again, he'd make them pay. When I was pregnant and the morning sickness was so brutal I couldn't keep anything down, he went and scheduled a vasectomy. He didn't want me to suffer through another pregnancy. This was a man who loved me like I was his whole world. And yet — when I was lying on the operating table about to give birth, he was standing right in front of me with his arms around Iris, putting on a show for anyone watching. Iris was the daughter of another old-money family and she'd donated bone marrow to save Ethan's mother's life. The night before her own engagement, her fiance betrayed her, and the trauma wiped her memory clean. Now the only thing she knew for certain was that Ethan Sterling was her husband. In her world, I was the homewrecker — the scheming woman using the bastard in her belly to force her husband into a divorce. Ethan promised me it was all an act. Just repaying the debt for his mother's life. Once Iris recovered, he'd walk away from her immediately. But when I picked up the surgical consent form for him to sign, and his first instinct was to pull Iris behind him — to shield her — I knew. His heart had already drifted off course. The fairy tale of a Cinderella marrying into high society was over. Time to wake up.

“It won’t be a straight death from where you’re standing.” I blink, turning around. “What?” But he doesn’t give me a reply. At least not yet. Instead, he takes hold of my arms in his large, gloved hands, and pulls me to him so that we are standing toe to toe. “What are you doing?” I whisper. This new position has brought us closer. So close that if I stand on my toes, and he dips his head down a bit, I’d probably have the best kiss… “If you fall from here, the possibility of you dying immediately is 98% at the very least,” He begins as I stare at him with my mouth slightly agape. “Falling from where you stood before is about 35% lesser. You’d die eventually, maybe after a night or two of trying to revive your shattered bones, but not immediately.” Having made his point, he steps back from me and climbs down the somewhat elevated platform. “Did you just make way for me to kill myself?” I murmur, feeling like I’m losing my mind all over again. What kind of a man is this? *** Sonia’s life is going great one minute and then takes a spin for the worse when she is betrayed, gets pregnant and worse, is told that she will be getting married to Italian mafia heir, Anthony Romero, who doesn’t mind raising another man’s child. She abhors the idea, but having also recently been disowned by her father, she has no choice but to accept the marriage proposal if she wants protection for herself and her child. But she has questions. Why would a sane man from her world want to raise a child that isn’t his? Surely they’re ulterior motives in play.

PHOEBE - Holy mother of craps! I had lost my virginity to the college’s bad boy, Asher Gilbert. And, he told me it meant nothing to him. He told me to get lost! ********* ASHER - All my life till now, no one had ever intimidated me. Not anyone. Not my dad, nor the school principal… Not those street gangs… lastly, not the mafia. But this strange girl— a Maserati shows up. Making me urge to brand her, as mine. ********** “Why are you like this to me?” “What do you mean?” “Why are you so dismissive but save me, every time I land in trouble?” He didn’t reply that. Instead, he sighed, crunching the plastic bottle in his hand. He threw it in anger to the other side of the room. Then he approached me. I took three steps back, timidly. His intimidating gaze dropped towards mine. He didn’t stop until the back of my head contacted the wall. Only then did his both hands angle at the sides of my head. My eyes immediately gorged at his hard-on. Flash backs of the night we had together immediately ran through my brain. The only thing I could think of was the way my mouth was wrapped around him. His Adam’s apple swallowed numerous times, making me wonder what he thought of. It was like one of those scenes of movies. Like he was in a battle with himself. But the question was, what was he so protective about? Why didn’t he like making conversations with females? “I’m never gonna change, Phoebe. Remember that,” ********* What is worse than drunken one-night-stand, with the college’s bad boy? Or a cold treatment thereafter? However, one pregnancy changes it all. In this love so wrong, can they ever make things right?

Cory Sullivan, my ten-year-old son, joins a swimming class organized by his school. A bunch of his fellow students end up pinning him to the drain of the swimming pool. I spot the streak of red in the water and completely lose my mind. I immediately dash over to save Cory, but by the time I do, his face has turned swollen and blue from the suction. Blood trickles from his mouth. He's no longer breathing. Andy Webster, the ringleader of the trio who hurt Cory, arrogantly declares that he won't be criminally prosecuted because he's a minor. "So what if I did it? He started getting on my nerves ages ago! Now that he's dead, no one else can compete with me to be the top in our class." Andy's father, Greg Thompson, condescendingly throws me a debit card. "There's 100 thousand dollars in there. That should be enough to make up for your son's worthless life." Outrage, I demand justice, but my wife, Sheryl Lowe, stops me. "Andy's just a kid himself. Are you going to force someone else's kid to lose his freedom just because your own son is dead?" I stop at nothing in the pursuit of justice, but Andy simply gets sent to a juvenile detention center. That's nowhere near enough for me. Eventually, I lose all hope. I lie down at Cory's grave and swallow a bottle of sleeping pills. Suddenly, my eyes open again. I've returned to the day I took Cory to the swimming pool. I immediately drag him off to take him back home before anything happens, but alas, a young boy still ends up losing his life at the pool.

He was forbidden. My brother's best friend. The most dangerous man in the country. And I signed myself over to him. Eve Thorne had one rule: stay away from Dimitri Valentino. It shouldn't have been difficult. He was ruthless, feared, and devastatingly beautiful in the way that only truly dangerous things are. The kind of man who owned nightclubs, commanded armies, and made grown men weep with a single look. The kind of man her brother Mike trusted with his life. The kind of man she had absolutely no business wanting. But one shattered marriage, one bottle of whiskey, and one catastrophically bad decision later, Eve wakes up in Dimitri's bed with a signed contract on the nightstand and six months of her life no longer her own. Her body. His rules. No exceptions. The contract is iron-clad, the penalty clause suffocating — fifty million dollars she doesn't have. And Dimitri Valentino, the Wolf of the Italian underworld, has absolutely no intention of letting her go. He says he'll ruin her for other men. He's not lying. Because beneath the cold control and the thousand-dollar suits is a man who has wanted her for seven sinful years — who has memorized the curve of her smile, the sound of her laugh, and exactly how to take her apart piece by piece until the only word left in her vocabulary is his name. Eve came to him broken, looking to feel wanted. She never expected to feel owned. She never expected to love it. Undressed by the Mafia Lord is a scorching dark romance about forbidden hunger, dangerous obsession, and the catastrophic moment a good girl stops running from the wolf who has always been hunting her. Some contracts change everything. Some men are worth the fine print.

I've always been sensitive and delicate since young. The first reaction I often exhibit whenever I run into a problem is "I wanna die". But weirdly enough, those who bully me are also the ones who get really unlucky in life. It turns out that I'm the real heiress to a wealthy family. On the first day of me rejoining said family, the fake heiress, Quinn Emerson, cries hysterically as she hollers about wanting to jump off the balcony. My parents and my older brother, Finn Emerson, keep consoling her that she's always their precious darling. Knowing that I won't have a good status in this family, I rush over to the window and scream "I don't wanna live anymore!" before jumping off the third floor. Unexpectedly, I land right on top of Finn. While I'm left unscathed, he suffers from multiple fractures and has to get hospitalized for three months. Later on, I'm admitted into an elite academy. Quinn cries about how I've been bullying her. In order to avenge her, my parents use the excuse of driving me to school just to abandon me in the middle of the highway. Feeling very aggrieved, I scream "I don't wanna live anymore!" again and turn to look for a truck to get run over. But the truck driver manages to pull off a 360-degree spin, crashing into my parents' car instead. The car does three flips in the air before landing on the ground. They almost get reduced to vegetables in that accident. On my 18th birthday-slash-coming-of-age ceremony, Quinn's urge to cause trouble is overtaking her once again. This time, she intends to accuse me of stealing the jewelry worth tens of millions of dollars that's gifted to her by our mom. But my parents, Finn, and even my grandma, who used to dote on Quinn a lot, are so frightened that they slap Quinn a dozen or so times. "Why must you cross that walking jinx?" they exclaim.

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.

After my father's Beta killed him, I ran away and lived my life as a human. It wasn't much, but my life was my own and I liked it that way. Until one night, when I decide to take a shortcut through wolf territory and I'm captured. Expecting to go to the dungeon, the Alpha presents me as a potential mate to the mysterious and reportedly cruel Lycan King, Bowden. He takes me from my home and brings me to his kingdom where I'm expected to live as his mate. A mate he doesn't even want. I didn't sign up for this life. I don't want any of it. Least of all to be some king's dutiful and submissive mate. I'm just waiting, biding my time, until I can run away and join the human world again. ** "You know what…I'm done. I'm leaving Bowden's eyebrows pull up in amusement. "Are you now?” "Yes. Try to stop me.” He stands aside. "I won't stop you. Go. Goddess knows, I could use a little peace and quiet." I start to leave, but before I even reach the door he calls out. "Oswald!” The guard opens the door without any delay. "See the queen to her room and lock her in for the night," Bowden orders. "I thought you said you wouldn't stop me." I spin around and glare at Bowden, furious with him for changing his mind. "I won't…but Oswald made no such promises." The king nods at the guard who simply steps outside and closes the door behind him again. "Don't play games with me, little wild child. I am far more experienced than you'll ever be, and this is a game you'll never win. You are mine, and you are going nowhere.”

The sound of the liquor bottle breaking echoed against the walls of that room, making her flinched. She gazed into those intoxicated piercing green eyes hovering over her. "Leave from my room right now, Damien," her sapphire orbs filled with tears of terror, whereas her grip tightened on the towel covering her wet bare body but the person before her didn't follow her words. A shiver ran down her spine when he placed his both palms on the glass door behind her, caging her completely. "We will talk tomorrow when you will be sober up but please leave now," she attempted to push him away but her body froze when he pinned both of her wrists above her head, resulting in the towel slipping from her body. Her naked body trembled, both in fear and cold but the blazing rage in those bloodshed green eyes flamed up her being. She tried to wiggle out from his hold until…. "Do you still love him, Zia?" His question stabbed inside her heart like a dagger. Her tears of fear turned into anger. After she submitted every single inch of her to him last night, he was still asking her that question. "What if I said, yes…I still love Dylan then?" She challenged him but immediately hissed in pain when he dug his fingers in her tender skin. "Then I will kill him right in front of you," his cavernous voice husked against her lips but his words glossed her eyes more. How can he be so cruel that he didn't hesitate before thinking about killing his own brother? Her heart clenched when he pressed his lips against her and whispered those words in her mouth. "Because I will be the only person to ruin you in my love, Zia Damien Karlson,"