Where Your Eyes Don't Go

The night before my engagement, I saw Leo Vitaly in a naked embrace with my best friend, Sophia, at the villa. I did not cry or create a scene. Instead, I went crazy as I slept with three of his best buddies. I left evidence of our lovemaking on the wooden desk of his office, condoms in the passenger seat of his car, and a leather whip in his private wine cellar. All of this was left behind on purpose to tell him what I did. When Leo found out about it, all he did was put out the cigar in his hand and made a group call to his buddies. "You've all slept with her? What did she taste like?" Taunting laughter was heard from the other end of the call. "She's pretty flexible in bed." "Not bad, but she needs to be more adventurous in bed. The minor celebrities I sleep with are better than she is." "Haven't you given her a taste before by giving her a good lesson, Leo? She's too tight down there." My meticulously planned revenge was nothing but a joke to him. Leo had not cared at all. That night, I broke down. Leo sent me to the sanatorium after that. He 'treated' me there for an entire year.

"I'm Aiden Hart's secretary!" I shrieked over the phone. "Calm down, Charlie. It can't be that bad." I heard amusement in Emily's voice. My roommate's attitude did nothing to soothe my nerves. "It's not bad; it's a disaster!" I convinced. "I can't work for someone as hot as him! I can't breathe around him!" I might have been on the verge of a panic attack. I was supposed to work for his father, the well-respected sixty-eight-year-old Alexander Hart, not his youngest son! This wasn't what I agreed to! Less than a month ago, my dear friend died while working at Hart Global Corporation as the CEO's secretary. Now, I was about to replace her while investigating the truth behind her death. I thought I was prepared to enter the snake's nest, but I clearly underestimated the enemy… Aiden Hart was the purest embodiment of my sexual fantasies, and believe me, after four sexless years, I had more than too many of them twirling inside my brain. Every day, I found my boss more and more alluring, and I could only protect my weak heart by repeating my newly created mantra... "Don't fall for Mr. Hart... Don't fall for Mr. Hart... Don't fall for Mr. Hart."

Kaliya Ortiz is the illegitimate daughter of the Reyes family who handles businesses around the country. Treated like a nobody in her own family she grew up to be a quiet woman, always hidden in plain sight. Caleb Cruz is the man behind the DY group that dominated the country’s economy. A known business figure and a bachelor on top of that. Many women attempted to make him theirs but the unmoving Caleb wasn’t easy to seduce. Fate somehow seemed to toy the two and decided to play Cupid. "Will you marry me?” "What can you give me then?" She frowned, seemingly lost in thought and then said, "I can give you money." "I'm not in need of money." "Then a house?" "I already have one." "A beautiful wife." He laughed but wasn't convinced. "That certainly is a good catch but..." he trailed off. "It's tempting but no." The woman stared at him, unsmiling. "Then my body?" His smile didn't fade. "Do you want to give it to me?" An encounter leads them to a tangle of messes and to contracts and maybe… towards love.

In the backyard of my home, there is a dark red jar that is about half a person's height. It is half buried in the ground, and my whole family forbids me from going near it. But I hear someone inside the jar calling me over and over. That voice says, "Sis, I miss you so much."

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT Nora has been used, dumped with scars to show it. Her life has been revolving around her little baby girl until Greg came into the picture. His eyes, his smile, those dimples are all Nora can see. But she is determined not to be a fool again. Will her strength be able to save her from Greg's love and unceasing charm.

After I'm abducted, I call my mother, a policewoman, for help. However, she hangs up on me and stays by my adoptive sister's side. "Go to hell if you're so keen on it!" she snaps. I calmly watch as the abductors pluck my nails and torment me until none of my skin is left unharmed. In my past life, my mother actually came to my rescue. She left my adoptive sister by the roadside, and the latter ended up being violated and murdered. From then on, I became a criminal in my mother's eyes. She received an anonymous text on my adoptive sister's death anniversary. "I bet a good girl like you wouldn't want your mother to know you hired us to abduct you, right?" She thought I orchestrated the abduction because I wanted to vie for her attention. She thought that was the cause of my adoptive sister's death. "I've saved people all my life. I never would've expected my flesh and blood to be such a shameless monster! You should go to hell as atonement for killing Charlene!" She sewed my mouth shut, shattered every bone in my body, and threw my ashes into a junkyard. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back to the day my mother makes her choice.

Kim has spent most of her life on the edges—quiet, guarded, invisible. At nineteen, she’s only just beginning to learn what it means to be seen, to want, to belong. Erik was never meant to be more than a safe place, a steady presence in a world that once hurt her too deeply. He’s older, scarred by a past he doesn’t talk about, and painfully aware that loving her might mean holding her back. What begins as comfort turns into something dangerous: a love built in stolen mornings, unsaid fears, and promises neither of them knows how to keep. When Luca enters the picture—warm, easy, and part of the life Kim has never lived—everything Erik fears starts to feel inevitable. A single party. One careless moment. One kiss seen by the wrong eyes. Now Kim is torn between the man she comes home to and the future she’s only just daring to imagine, while Erik must decide whether love means fighting for her… or letting her go.

After I fell while pregnant, my six-year-old son, Nico Bertelli, did not come to help me. When I woke up, the baby in my belly was gone. At my hospital bedside, Nico hid behind my husband, Roberto Bertelli, and mumbled, "Mommy, I thought you fainted on purpose to get my attention. You've pretended to pass out a few times before just to stop me from going out with Ms. Pelosi." Roberto chimed in coldly, "You're always pulling tricks to get attention. Nico doesn't even trust you anymore. You need to take a hard look at yourself and figure out why he prefers being around Martina Pelosi over you." I was completely heartbroken. The day after I was discharged, I went home, packed up everything that belonged to me, and left behind only two documents: a divorce agreement and a letter terminating my parental rights.

Soon after I came back to the country, someone slapped me right across the face in broad daylight, yelling that I was a mistress. A crowd of reporters closed in, pelting me with questions about whether Chandler Armstrong, CEO of Armstrong Industries, was keeping me as his mistress. I was stunned speechless for a moment, but then I pulled out my wedding photo with Chandler from seven years ago and held it up. "What are you talking about? I'm his wife!" The crowd went silent, and the woman who'd slapped me turned white as a sheet. Only then did I finally get it: while I'd been overseas, Chandler had been openly involved with an actress, and everyone in his social circle had already decided she was the future Mrs. Armstrong. Today, they all came expecting to confront a mistress—only to find out that I was actually his wife. Later, Chandler tried to justify it. "Alina, you've been out of the country for years. I'm a man, and I have needs. She's just a B-list actress; it's not like she threatens your position. Why should you be upset? Just let it go," he said. "Don't make a scene." I handed him the divorce papers. "You make me sick."

I thought my life was sorted. I have a sweet fiancé Marcus, a cozy apartment and my wedding Pinterest board on lock. As The classic good girl, I saved myself for marriage, never gave anyone trouble and always made safe choices. That was until I met Marcus’ dad Victor. He is tall, suave and deliciously charming. Everything about him turns me on without trying. Just one handshake and my body lit up like fireworks. I panicked and told myself it was hormones. I avoided him like a plague and even gave Marcus my virginity few months to our wedding but it didn’t work. One girls’ night and one weird-tasting drink, I find myself in his bed begging like I’d lost my mind while he ruins me for his son. Now I dream him every night while Marcus snores beside me like nothing’s changed. He has no idea I’m picturing his father when he touches me and that it’s his dad’s name I’m biting back when I come. I tell myself in the mirror every morning:
“Stop! You’re not this person.” But the second we’re in the same room? My willpower cracks. This isn’t cute at all. It’s messy, embarrassing and terrifying.
 The safest choice feels lonelier every day and the dangerous one feels like I’m finally breathing. What am I to do when the person I’m supposed to marry isn’t the one setting my body on fire and the one who is happens to be the last man I’m allowed to want? How long can I keep this affair hidden from Marcus when the wedding is so close and Victor is determined to have not just my body?