The Genie In A Bottle Novelas e Histórias

My girlfriend's so-called guy best friend found out I had epilepsy. He deliberately spiked my drink with stimulants. The moment I drank it, my nervous system was overstimulated. My heart rate surged. My chest tightened. Then the familiar warning signs hit–blurred vision, fragmented awareness, the onset of a seizure. The next second, I lost control of my body and collapsed onto the floor. My muscles convulsed violently. My jaw locked tight. My breathing turned uneven. I struggled to pull out the emergency medication I always carried with me, trying to stop the seizure from worsening. However, just as I was about to take it, I realized the hot water in my bottle had been replaced with highly concentrated coffee. The extra caffeine intensified the neurological stimulation. My convulsions worsened. My thoughts became more chaotic. My fingers stiffened to the point where I could barely move. Aaron Stone looked down at me on the floor and laughed. "Not bad. You're pretty convincing. "I've seen plenty of seizure patients before. Never seen anyone act this well." Gasping for air, I forced myself onto my knees in front of Mia, my jaw tightening from the spasms. "Mia... call an ambulance... I'm having a seizure..." Mia frowned at my obvious condition, but there was only impatience on her face. "Enough already. "If you keep acting like this, it's honestly too much. Since when can people having seizures still talk? "Aaron's a doctor. With him here, what could possibly happen to you?" I stopped trying to explain. Because I was already entering the next stage of neurological collapse. Even speaking had become difficult. Using the last of my strength, I pulled out my phone and sent an emergency distress message.

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.

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?

When I first caught Miles cheating on me, I pinned him down at the entrance whenever he came home every day. I would pull down his pants and spray high-concentration alcohol all over his nether regions. He always went along with it with teary eyes because he knew he had been in the wrong. He would only look at me with a pitiful gaze and coax me to stop. One day, he came home two hours late. I became mad when I smelled the perfume on him. I started taking off his belt forcefully and yelled, “Last time, when you had your fun with one woman, you came home half an hour late. “Now you’re two hours late. Talk! Did you sleep with four?” Even though he apologized to me for the twenty-ninth time, I pushed him away repeatedly. He finally raised his hand to show me the IV mark on the back of it. He snapped and screamed at me, “Enough! I was dying with a high fever, yet you haven’t even asked how I’m doing. You just fly off the handle every single day. When are you going to stop? “Fine, I got drunk and slept with someone once. Big deal. You’re not so innocent yourself. “It’s no wonder you got dragged into an alley at sixteen, stripped, and assaulted. Jenna, you’re a paranoid wreck. You may have even deserved it.” The spray bottle shattered at my feet, and the smell of alcohol caught in my throat. I was speechless. I felt exhausted when I saw his disgusted expression. I did not want this broken relationship any longer.

I've placed a no-limit bid just so I can buy Eloise Kane, the best underground boxer, from an underground boxing ring. Without even sparing me a proper glance, she's already naming her conditions with a sneer on her face. Apparently, she wants a deluxe apartment that's located in the heart of the city, a monthly allowance of ten million dollars, and most importantly, I mustn't interfere with her social circle. Everyone thinks I've gone nuts for buying myself a mistress just so I can cater to her whims and needs. But I don't mind at all. I just point at her left chest and tell her, "Just maintain a regular lifestyle. Don't let anything happen to your heart." I even go so far as to offend the heiress of the most prominent family in the elite society in order to defend Eloise. That is, until I heard Eloise gets stabbed for her jealous antics in a bar. By the time I arrive at the private room, I see her embracing a male escort while laughing at the top of her lungs. "Oh, I'm the one who hired someone to hit his sister with a car! It's best if she dies, though! That way, his assets will be mine! "Besides, he's just an idiot whose only purpose is to give me money! Who does he think he is, anyway?" Amid the eerie silence, I snatch up a wine bottle and smash it into Eloise's head. Then, I slam her head into the pile of blood-stained glass shards. After that, I dial the hospital's number. "Her heart is in top shape, and it's a perfect match. Tonight, you can wheel my sister into the emergency room. Time to prep for the heart transplant surgery."

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.

He was supposed to be hers. He chose a crown instead. When Cole Winters rejected Mara Voss in front of the entire pack council to marry the Lycan Chairman's daughter, she told herself she could survive it. Rejection hurt. Betrayal healed. Life moved forward. Then he dismantled her father's business piece by piece. Then he showed up at her door with a bottle of wine and a quiet smile, expecting her to become his secret, as if a soul bond could be folded and hidden inside expensive hotel rooms. Mara looked at him and said the truest thing she had ever spoken. "I would rather be with your father-in-law than waste one more second on you." She said it to wound him. Fate heard it as a direction. Caden Holt does not do second looks. He built his entire life around that rule after grief hollowed him out. He runs empires. He settles pack disputes that have lasted generations. He has never in twelve years met a woman worth a second night. Then a she-wolf with amber eyes and nothing left to lose walks into his private study and refuses to apologize for existing. He tells himself it is curiosity. By the third time she crosses his path, he has stopped telling himself anything at all. But Cole is still watching. And as Mara steps deeper into a world of lycan politics and old money, she begins to uncover something that changes everything. Her rejection was not an accident. It was arranged. Someone needed her away from Cole before the bond could complete. That someone has been inside her life the entire time. She walked into his world with nothing left to protect. Now she is the most valuable thing in it. And the most hunted.

Every time my husband, Dave Tarrett, spent the night at his ex Maggie Gorringe's place, he bought me another building. Two years into our marriage, I owned 285 commercial properties across the country. Which also meant Dave had screwed me over 285 times. After the deed to property number 286 landed in my hands, Maggie sent me another smug little video. "So what if Dave throws money at you? I'm the one who gets his body and his heart. You might be some international supermodel, but you still can't get your own husband into bed." I didn't bother arguing. Instead, I mailed her the newest Victoria's Secret set from my latest runway show. When Dave found out how "generous" I'd been, he rewarded me by taking me to some elite social event. During a party game, Maggie lost three rounds straight and got dared to lick whipped cream off some playboy's thigh. She grabbed a wine bottle, smashed it, and shoved the jagged edge against her neck. "Dave, I'm not letting anyone humiliate me like this!" Dave—usually cold as ice—instantly panicked. Then he turned to me. Of course he did. "It's just whipped cream," he said softly. "Do this for her. I swear I'll go home with you after." Everyone waited for me to lose it. But I stayed calm and agreed without a word. He didn't know this was the 287th time he'd hurt me. And I was done being his pet. Once I paid back the debt I owed him for saving my life, we'd be done for good.

After returning from a three-month business trip, I rushed to meet my fiancé and resolve our dispute over my best friend, Elena. Elena’s ex-husband left her penniless and broken. I offered her my apartment, helped her "find herself" and accompanied her through nights of tequila-soaked sobbing. My fiance, Julian, hated it. Or so he said. "She’s a leech, Clara," he’d snap, watching her try on my designer coats. "She doesn't even know how to make toast without calling for help. Are you her best friend or her maid? People like her don't want to heal; they just want a free ride." She's lost everything, Julian," I argued."Without her, I wouldn't have survived my mother’s death. Please, just be patient for me." I let myself in quietly. The house was still, the air smelling of expensive candles and something else—something sweet and floral that wasn't mine. I walked toward the master suite, expecting to find Julian asleep. Instead, the door was ajar. The wine bottle I had brought to surprise Julian slipped from my hand, leaving me paralyzed for a moment. Elena was draped across my silk sheets. Julian was hovering over her, expertly shucking oysters—my favorite—and feeding them to her with a look of doting, soft-eyed tenderness he hadn't shown me in months. "You're so much better at this than she is," Julian purred. "Because she’s cold, Julian," Elena whispered, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. "She’s all business. She doesn't know how to satisfy men in bed." I stood in the doorway, my whole self trembling, not in cold but in pure rage and disgust. "I hope the oysters are fresh," I said, my voice cutting through the room like a blade.