Tobin Heath And Christen Press Fanfiction นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The ambulance that's carting a pregnant woman is currently racing down the highway. The pregnant woman's water has already broken, which means she's in a dire situation right now. As I clutch the steering wheel tightly, I make sure to press the gas pedal all the way to the maximum. But the hospital director, Corey Johnston, who has tagged along for the ride, suddenly issues an order. "Pull up at the rest stop ahead." I'm momentarily stunned by the order. But I soon protest anxiously, "The patient can't afford to wait at all! She and her baby might die anytime soon!" Corey merely waves a hand impatiently. "Who's the one calling the shots here—me or you? I've been dabbling in the medical world for 30 years! As if a driver like you know better than me!" Thinking that Corey needs to go to the bathroom urgently, I soon park at the rest stop. But I witness him strolling into a supermarket leisurely, only to come out with two huge bags of snacks a long time later. "I bought my daughter the local specialities. She loves snacks like these the most." As Corey speaks, he tosses the snacks and his phone onto the front passenger seat. His phone screen flickers to life due to an accidental contact, which reveals the wallpaper of the lock screen. It's a photo of Corey and his daughter. I frown at the sight as my breath hitches in my throat. Why do I have a feeling that Corey's daughter looks quite similar to the pregnant woman in the ambulance right now?

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content (adult readers only), violence, organized crime, brief captivity, mention of past parental death. Slow-burn. Seraphina Calloway has spent eleven months building a case against the most dangerous family in New York. She’s a former prosecutor turned private investigator, and she is mere inches from the evidence that could end the Voss empire until she breaks into Voss Tower at two in the morning and finds Lucian Voss waiting for her. He doesn’t call the police. He makes her an offer. She spent sixty days as his fake fiancée, a role staged to deflect a political alliance with rival crime lord Viktor Drakos. In return, she received every file she had ever needed and the names of the two people who had destroyed her previous cases before they reached a judge. Sera knows it’s a trap. She agrees anyway. What begins as a ruthless arrangement between enemies spirals into something neither of them can control: obsession, fury, tenderness, and a consuming desire that isn't concerned about self-preservation. Lucian is colder and more dangerous than his press release suggests, and in the moments when he doesn’t know she’s watching, he is something entirely different. Sera is sharper and more relentless than his investigation revealed and is carrying a secret identity that connects her to his world in ways that will shatter everything they’ve built. Then Viktor takes her. And Lucian discovers that sixty days was never what the game was about.

Imogen Darcy is living a forbidden fantasy, secretly in love with her charismatic professor, Dante Salvatore. For two years, their stolen moments between lecture halls are a bittersweet promise of a future without secrets. But the fairytale ends the morning she wakes up alone, clutching a single, devastating post-it note. Her world instantly collapses. The press, tipped off by Dante's powerful family, brands her a gold-digging mistress. She is publicly shamed, expelled from Oxford, and disowned by her family—left utterly penniless with one final, life-altering secret: she's pregnant. Two years later, Dante returns, a man consumed by a vengeful rage. He has just discovered the monstrous betrayal orchestrated by his own mafia dynasty, a betrayal that forced him to shatter the woman he loved. He is too late to find her, but he finds the daughter he never knew. His quest for revenge uncovers his family's darkest secret: a brutal child trafficking ring. But his investigation leads him to a shocking safehouse, where the final piece of the puzzle is the broker's niece—a hardened, resilient Imogen. Now, to protect the family he has just found, Dante must bring them into the heart of the enemy's territory: his own gilded estate in Italy. Forced into close quarters, they must navigate their painful history, a web of deadly enemies, and a passion that never truly died. As a final, bloody war for control erupts, they are forced to confront a dangerous question: Can a love that was first built on secrets and then shattered by betrayal, be rebuilt on a foundation of vengeance and blood?

He slammed me hard against the brick wall and instead of feeling pain, I felt excited, in between my legs started misbehaving as he stared at me closely.His body so close, his golden brown eyes peering into mine, I could literally feel his hot breathe fanning over my neck.His gruff voice called out my name."Karen, how long will you keep being stubborn? How long will you keep on disobeying your Alpha?" Instead of fear engulfing me,I could only smirk at his pissed self."Have I been disobeying you, Andrew?" I couldn't help but smirk again.He groaned and pressed me harder into the brick wall, his body close to mine. I could now feel something hard press hard into my thigh.No matter what, I sure enjoy the feeling of that, the feeling to know that he is always turned on by me - by my so called stubbornness. It made me smirk at him again.Oh you'll get us killed, Karen, stop smirking at him, will you? My inner wolf warned but I didn't listen to her.I suddenly felt one of his hands on my pants. My eyes widened immediately."You've pushed me too hard, Karen, I'll surely punish you today" his gruff voice blew hot breathe over my neck."To my office, now!" He ordered finally moving away from me.

On the day I rejected Isabelle Hale, Wall Street's newest golden girl, everyone thought I had lost my mind. She had everything: a Wharton degree, a national finance championship, a perfect family name, and a résumé polished enough to make doors open before she even knocked. But I knew what was hiding behind that name. Fifty years ago, her grandfather stole my grandmother's acceptance letter, her New York scholarship, and the future she had earned with her own hands. He used them to escape an Appalachian coal town with another woman, then built himself into a celebrated Ivy League professor who lectured rich students about ethics. My real grandmother, Grace Walker, was left behind in coal dust and shame. My mother grew up carrying the weight of that stolen life. They lifted me out anyway. I made it all the way to Manhattan, to a glass conference room at Northbridge Capital, where Isabelle sat across from me in a black suit tailored like victory. She thought her family name would protect her. She thought I would bow. Instead, I closed her file and said, "You didn't pass." By the next morning, they had fired me, dragged my name through the mud, and turned a press conference into my public trial. They forgot one thing. I didn't climb to the top of Wall Street to beg for a seat at their table. I came to take back every name, every chance, and every voice they stole from women like us.

After returning from a business trip, I discovered that my wife had unexpectedly replaced the floor-to-ceiling window in her office with an entire wall of mirrors. When I questioned her about it, she looked at me with gentle eyes and smiled as she straightened my tie. "This way, when you come to keep me company during overtime, you won't have to fuss over checking your appearance. Don't overthink it. I had the nutritionist prepare some soup to help you recover. Drink it while it's hot." I found it strange. She was a career-driven woman who had always complained that my suits made me look too stiff and formal. Yet now, she had suddenly changed her tune. Still, I did not say anything. I simply smiled and walked over to the mirror, unscrewing the lid of the thermos. But the moment the hot steam rose into the air, two large oval-shaped marks slowly emerged on the previously spotless mirror. And in the corner, there was a faint smear of lipstick. I compared the height with a quick gesture and let out a cold laugh. 'A familiar height of five foot three and a C-cup. Office mirror reflections. How bold and thrilling.' I pulled out a tissue and calmly wiped the mirror clean before calling my assistant. "Get a renovation crew ready. Tonight, replace the mirror in Ms. Sutton's office with a two-way mirror. And notify the media. Three days from now, I'll be holding a live press conference downstairs."

I finally managed to score a dream tutoring gig that paid an incredible $500 an hour. Nevertheless, looking at the family portrait sitting in my employer’s house, I saw my own supposedly honest, simple mother. In the photograph, she was leaning affectionately against a wealthy, tailor-suited sugar daddy, who was holding a 5 or 6-year-old boy in his arms. Her smile was even warmer and more tender than the day she sent me off to college. My mind went entirely blank. I whipped out my phone, ready to start a video call with my dad to catch her in the act. Suddenly, a rough hand firmly clamped down on mine. It was my mom. She dragged me into a blind spot out of sight, lowering her voice to a desperate plea. "Sweetheart, please don't tell your dad! His dialysis treatments can't be interrupted! This man is loaded, and he's more than willing to give me cash. I'm just bleeding him dry to pay for your tuition and keep your dad alive!" The corner of my mouth twitched into a bitter smirk as I set the family portrait right back where it belonged. "Mom, do you actually believe your own lies?" Her face turned deathly pale in an instant. I didn't press her any further, though. Instead, I reached out and thoughtfully wiped a speck of dust off the glass frame. "Fine. Make sure you do a good job then."

On the night of her university graduation, Nooria Al-Fariz catches her boyfriend in bed with her best friend and flees to a hotel suite her sister Faiza promised would help her forget. Instead, Faiza’s “sparkling juice” leaves Nooria drugged and stumbling into the wrong room—straight into the arms of Valentino Delucca, the most feared mafia boss on the East Coast and the man her sister was supposed to marry. What begins as one brutal, addictive night of rough passion explodes into a public scandal when the press catches them tangled in sheets the next morning. To salvage his reputation and collect on a broken family promise, Valentino claims Nooria as his own. He demands she become his contract wife, come to his bed every night, and give him an heir—no exceptions, no escape. Terrified and betrayed, Nooria is torn between the guilt of betraying her sister, the shame of her family’s disgrace, and the dark, dangerous pull she feels toward the monster who alternates between punishing dominance and shocking tenderness. But the deepest secret is still hidden: the man who ruined her wasn’t alone that night. Valentino has an identical twin, Damien—and both brothers now refuse to let her go. In a world of blood oaths, arranged alliances, and obsessive possession, Nooria must decide whether to fight for freedom… or surrender to the two men who will burn everything down to keep her. A dark mafia romance with forced marriage, breeding kink, twin obsession, family betrayal, and intense spice.

"You know I can't talk while you're here", he says. His voice is rough, dangerous and hungry. I swallow, my throat dry. But I don't look away. "Why?" I ask, my fingers trace his jaw, trembling. "I'll be good. Promise". A dark laugh rumbles through his chest. "I don't want good", he says, voice rough. "I want you screaming my name… just not here. Not in front of the president and the damn press". His control slips as he buries his face in my neck. His lips burn where they touch. "Christ", he mutters. "What are you doing to me? I have a speech to deliver. But I can't even remember the first line. I swear I know it, but…" "You're a dirty bastard", I whisper, breathless. "Yours", he says, his teeth grazing my earlobe. "So… what do I tell the president?" –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– Aneeka's messy divorce leaves her heartbroken. With her inheritance on the line, outwitting her cheating ex should be her only goal. But fate has other ideas. Just 24 hours after the divorce, she unexpectedly marries Derek Simon, the country's most eligible bachelor. What starts as a wild, prove a point kiss explodes into an undeniable, all consuming passion. The pull between them is real, hot, and impossible to ignore. Is this her second chance at love? Or a disaster waiting to happen?

I died with my husband's betrayal on my lips and my unborn child in my womb. One moment I was Mia Weston — billionaire, wife, mother-to-be. The next, I was gone. Erased. Traded like a chess piece by the man who swore to love me forever. Then I woke up. Silk sheets. Marble walls. A maid calling me "My Lady." And a father I had never met looking me dead in the eyes saying — "You have been promised to King Zyren of the Draconis Throne. You leave at sunrise." I thought I was dreaming. I was wrong. King Zyren is not a man. He is ancient, ruthless, and devastatingly beautiful in the way that only dangerous things are. He doesn't smile. He doesn't explain. He simply looks at me like I am something he has been waiting for — and that look alone makes my whole body tremble. He calls me his traded bride. I call him my nightmare. But nightmares don't look at you like you are the only breathable air in a burning room. Nightmares don't press you against cold stone walls and whisper "You will learn your place, little human" with a voice so deep it rewrites your bones. And nightmares definitely don't make you forget — even for one dangerous, breathless second — the man who killed you. I was sold to settle a debt. He had waited centuries for exactly me. Neither of us was prepared for what came next.