Sylvia Day Bared To You Series Novels & Stories

“Why do you just have to act up, Giovanna? Didn’t I told you I will make it up to you later?” And just like that, Alessandra won. She leaned into his arms like she belonged there, like she’d just won a war. The old me? She would have let it go. She would have walked away, let Vincent believe whatever lie made him sleep better at night. But I wasn’t the old me. I had proof. Calmly, I reached into my bag. Clicked my phone’s speaker on. And turned up the volume. The room went silent as Alessandra’s voice poured through the speakers.

My pillow was soaked with tears. 'How dare you humiliate me like this all this while, Bruce! Fine. I'll no longer show you mercy.' When I heard the two of them woke up, I got out of bed. By the door, I tripped against something. While I pretended not to know what it was, trying to bend to touch it, Bruce immediately got up from the couch and ran to my side. "Nancy, are you okay? Why didn't you call me?" Kerry said with a hint of jealousy, "She just tripped, it's not like she—"

It was the best day ever. Or so I thought at the time. Just like our first date, George took me sailing. He had a picnic of delicacies set up for us. Wine and cheese with fresh fruit, oh, and those amazing crackers I could never get enough of. It was the perfect weather for it, just enough wind without overdoing it. The breeze kissed my skin, leaving goosebumps. I couldn't help but feel as though it were the best day ever. And he said all the right things, looked at me with those eyes, green my favorite color, that seemed to sparkle just so in the sunlight. I was a girl in romance heaven as he fed me grapes.

He downed the drink in one go, failing to notice the way Mom was sweating profusely. She glanced at the henchman beside her, built like a tank, and felt her teeth start to chatter. "Cheers, boss! It's my honor that you trust little old me with something like this!" Mom drank with exaggerated respect, raising her glass once too often to toast Mr. Jarrell. The same woman who had been obnoxious and arrogant when she burned my admission letter was now painfully submissive. Dad had also put together a full spread of dishes, busying himself with refilling drinks.

If it wasn't him, it would be painfully awkward. I felt a pang of frustration. Mr. Y and I had been going back and forth for three months. We were supposed to meet before the national holiday. My chat background was a selfie Mr. Y had sent, focusing on his hand, which I had begged him to share for ages. His fingers were slender and beautifully shaped, with nails that glowed a soft, pale pink. I had finally come across a soulmate whose chat topics matched mine perfectly, and the hand was so beautiful. Even just the part shown in the photo hit all the points I loved.

she said, her tone turning serious, "you passed my test. Now I believe you're really over that deaf girl. So... tomorrow night, you and me. A date." "Okay," Adrian smiled. Before I could react, Adrian slipped the hearing aid back behind my ear. "Baby, what are you thinking? Too happy to speak?" His eyes fixed on me like I was everything. What could I say? I heard it. I heard every word. But nothing came out. I just stared at this face I'd memorized a thousand times. "Serena!" Someone called my name. They all wore identical fake smiles. "Adrian took out your hearing aid and said the sweetest things," one said. "Honestly, it gave us chills."

It was an audio recording from the hospital solarium. Jillian clicked play. The static hissed, and then Victoria’s elegant, cruel voice echoed through the high-end desktop speakers: "You will look Jillian Michaels in the eye and tell her a lie so brutal, so ugly, that she will never want to see your face again... Shatter her heart so completely that she accepts the Vanguard marriage without looking back." Then, Clara’s voice broke through the static—fractured, weeping, and completely undone: "No... I won't do it. I won't do that to her."

This is the price I paid just to come back and see you because I am truly dead. As bottle after bottle of strong liquor washed over my wounds until my flesh turned pale and raw, I shivered from the excruciating pain. Yet, the onlookers watching showed no sympathy at all as they continued to mock me. “Hey, Greg. I heard high-proof alcohol catches fire instantly. Why don’t we try it out on her?” “Since she’s already rotting away like this, if she actually catches fire, wouldn’t it just burn all those nasty germs away?”

When I was eight, a prank by my little sister, Alice, left silver poison eating away at my heart. To save me, my dad knelt at the Temple of the Moon Goddess for ninety-nine days. Only then did he win two moonstone pendants from the Goddess, enough to hold the poison at bay. After that, Alice became the family pariah. They stopped speaking to her. They wouldn't even let her smile. For my sake, my father traveled far and wide searching for a cure for the silver poison. My mom quit her work as a healer to care for me, because the moonstone pendants needed her at the Moon Temple every day to replenish their magic. I always believed the Moon Goddess watched over me, blessing me with the best fami

You”ve been living in the luxury of his delusions while we chewed on the refuse of the Nursery. Sarah lunged again, a blur of grey rags and rusted steel. Cattleya parried with her forearm, feeling the jarring shock of the impact rattle her teeth. She grabbed Sarah”s wrist, and for a terrifying second, they were locked in a mimicry of a dance, face to face.