Alive

“Answer me honestly Serena. Did he kiss you?" Arsenio asked Serena. He had backed her against the wall, making her lose her one chance at escaping him. His body was tense and every nerve in him was on end as he awaited her response. “What is it to you Arsenio?! He might be a bad person but at least he knows what he wants and he sure as hell goes for it. You kiss me one moment and the next you tell me it's a mistake. You tell me how badly you want me and try to chase anyone who shows the least interest in me and yet you keep me at arm's freaking length. Enough Arsenio. I will do what I want to do…how I want to do it and with whom I choose. Hell, I'll even spread my legs wide open for Gerald if it would mean…” Arsenio had heard enough and he quickly turned her to face the wall. He held her both hands with one of his above her head before he pressed his body so close to hers. “You have been naughty, Bellisomo. Teased me to no end and made me go crazy countlessly. Now let's find out if your body agrees with your words “ Arsenio said and his fingers went missing under the short blue gown she had worn to test Gerald Mason. ******************** Arsenio Vladmiro - son to Massimo Vladmiro and Amelia Vladmiro finds out about his forbidden feelings for the one person he should not think of in that manner - Serena Toralba. She is the daughter to their family’s Consigliere and their parents raised the both of them in the same mansion together. He struggles between going for the girl he has always seen as a younger sister till seven years ago or letting her go. He had his pretty share of women in the world but the one woman he shouldn't want is the one his heart thrums for.

“I’m sorry but I can't continue this. We have both gotten what we intended from fooling the world that we were actually a couple. It's time to go our separate ways Jarek… like we said we would, “ Olivia said, hoping the tone of her voice would not betray her and convey her true need…her true desire. “Too late Liv.” Jarek said stunning Olivia. “As a Stark, it’s my duty to uphold the rules of any binding and keep to my end of the bargain but with you… With you, I plan on breaking every rule out there that exists as long as I keep on being yours. I can not bear to see you with another. It will kill me…” Jarek replied and the last clause came out as a whisper as he tilted her chin up to face him properly. “I could go raving mad Miss Forte. Stay with me!” His last words had stolen the other words she had rehearsed earlier, it had snatched the willpower Olivia thought she had perfectly. “Kiss me Mr Stark. My name is Olivia and it feels pleasant to meet you, “ Olivia said as she ran her hands from his chest to his shoulders. He did not have time to react to her sub - introduction before he clasped his lips on hers. She hummed a moan at the familiarity of his lips that she had thought she would never get to experience again and she earned a groan from him as the ‘supposed’ reuniting kiss, intended to be soft and alluring graduated to something ferocious. Hands finding buttons, fingers sinking in hair… ********************* Jarek Stark, the only son to the Stark Empire, was a mystery to the media. They know he exists but no one could tell who exactly he is. He worked as a lawyer in a law firm and got intrigued by a particular woman who wasn't fascinated by any of his charms. Her name, Olivia Forte. A woman with a strong sense of justice for others than herself. She is unaware that in the shadows she has a fan -a stalker - who uses his spare time to keep tabs on her. He makes no advances towards her because he was aware of the love she had for her boyfriend. That was until he cheated on Olivia. Seeing an opportunity to get close to her, he latches on it. Would Olivia still desire to be with Jarek when he becomes her boss and reveals his true identity to her and others? Would their relationship also be able to stand when she finds out his secret and also when he finds out her deleted past?!

“Lor…Lord Kamaz” Zelda moaned as she held onto Ragnar’s shoulders. She could feel the temperature of his skin and he was cold to the touch but yet she felt like she was burning. ‘How is it possible that someone this cold could transfer this level of heat?’ He had only placed a kiss on her neck and had run his tongue along a pulsing vein but she could feel how badly her core ached. He did not want to hold onto her, he was trying all he could so his hands would not grab her and that was the greatest form of torment he felt could come to him. Not even the angry looking gashes and slashes on his back from the whippings he had gotten could be compared. “The whole Kingdom almost found out my secret today, little bird…” He said as he brought his nose closer to her neck and took a much needed deep inhale. He closed his eyes as he savoured her scent…that scent that could only come from her. No one else had ever smelled so appealing in all his life. “I don't want you going to any of the chambers meant for the Upper Royals. I don't want them seeing you. I don't want them even thinking about you. I could have laid his head to rest today if those fingers of his had touched you.” He said, recollecting how close he was to decapitating his half brother. “Tell me…Did He Touch You?!” He asked. Zelda's eyes flew open. She looked into his eyes and saw his eyes were still swirling a shade of red. It will be troublesome if he stays this way. She placed one of her hands on his face and he relished in the warmth of her skin. “He didn't. You came before he could…” She said. He nodded his head and his eyes darted to that vein on her neck that was pulling him in. He didn't want to hurt her but yet he could hear the thrum of her blood and not tasting it was maddening enough. “You need to go" He said and he removed his hands that had cornered her to the wall. She knew he was withdrawing from her…again. He was still trying to hold onto his title as the most revered Prince of Noble character, even in this moment because he didn't want to harm her. Instead of speaking, she stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips. Her lips parted as she landed on her feet, her chest heaving as she wondered what he would do. The red in his eyes glazed, their hearts drummed in their ears and in a unified heartbeat, he lifted her up with his left hand and crashed his lips on hers. A groan from the depth of his desires quietened in the tangle of their tongues. She wrapped her legs around him and he leaned into her body on the wall. Her fingers sunk in his hair... ***************** Lord Ragnar Kamazotz is a vampire and the first ever of his kind. The beast in him only recognizes the tune of one lady…his Zeda. In his earliest years, she was the only person that could calm him down or get him close to sanity with the help of her instrument. All that stopped when she was hung by the greedy members of the royal family and he slayed all those involved in her death He survived by relying on The Prophecy that promised her coming back. Seven centuries later, he meets her again and his world is at peace until scenes from the ancient days rise up in this present one, threatening to kill her…again! People called her his poison but he called her ‘his Antidote.

“You thrill me little one. You make every damn principle of mine waver. You do it effortlessly…without even trying. Who are you really Amelia?” I asked, my eyes drinking in her facial features that have had me spell bound since the very first freaking second. She is the safe haven I run to after a day of dealing with blood and guns. “Just the least of your assets. Nothing more than something you own” Amelia said and she turned around to continue the dishes. I could feel her mixed hatred towards me. Her hatred was as alive as her desire. I held her hands and dropped the plate she was holding in the sink. I peeled the wet gloves off her hands before lifting her and placing her atop the counter. “What are you doing Massimo?” Amelia asked. Her voice low, so as to not attract anyone. “I don't seem to own you…you seem to own me” I said as I parted her legs - her gown hiking higher - and I stood in between them. “What do you…” Amelia started but I placed a finger across her lips. “I want you little one and I can't wait anymore” I said, my voice husky with desire and want as I pulled her waist closer to me. “Let me taste you Piccino…” I said. “Then have a taste…just a taste” Amelia said, wrapping her hands around my neck and shocking me to the core. “A taste it is…” I said before my lips came down on hers and my body hummed to how good she felt, smelt and tasted. I wanted her on my bed… I needed her in my life… I yearn.... ********* She was sold as a payment and he treasured her because he knew she was priceless…

"You know I am not spewing nonsense Karen. Yes, your wolf might not be there to witness within you that I am yours but you can't deny the fact that you are drawn towards me, somehow, somewhere within, you know!" Karen was breathing hard, she could not believe what she just heard. What Ralph said was the truth and that was why she had been trying to push him far from her. ’My mate???’ "But there is no way to prove it" Karen said with her chest heaving up and down. "There is" Ralph said and his eyes were fixed on hers intently. "How?" Karen asked and her voice came out as a whisper. She was paralyzed by the scorching blazes of Ralph's eyes and the sincerity she could feel from his words. Ralph leaned into her without his body touching hers and took her lips in his. She wanted to push him off but the strength of his hands held her in place and he deepened the kiss. She surrendered and her lips soon followed the pace that his, had set. It was gentle, promising and sent fiery messages all over her skin. Ralph soon let go of her hands and placed his body by hers on the bed as the kiss continued and grew into something ferocious. Their tongues began to play tag and their lips sought dominance over the other. Her hands held unto his shirt and his hand lifted the hospital shirt she had on and began to caress the side of her belly. Karen pulled away from the kiss as she sought air. "Now, do you know how?" Ralph asked. ********************* Meet Ralph Hernandez - the Supreme Alpha of all werewolves and lycans alike and his mate - Karen Zane. She won't bend to his whim because he is the Supreme Alpha, especially when she thinks he is her father's murderer. Follow them on how Karen makes the cold hearted Supreme Alpha Ralph Hernandez fall helplessly in love with her, only for her to leave him - despite her feelings for him. Would Ralph be able to find Karen? Would Karen find out who killed her parents and rescue them from the wickedness of her cousin?

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella. Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark. But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved. Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies. When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel. While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest. The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella. He ordered my father to punish me. I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth. That night, the love in my heart finally died. On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape—the only proof that I was Seven. Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney. By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.

I was the "Caged Canary" of the underworld, a biological asset designed to merge two crime families. My fiancé, Bryant Barnes, didn't love me. He loved the power I brought, and he loved his mistress, Kalia. The night Kalia broke into my penthouse and stomped on my hand, crushing the bones and my fashion career, Bryant didn't help me. He told the police she was my guest and warned me not to embarrass him with a cast. That was just the beginning. When Kalia lied about feeling unsafe, Bryant dangled me off a balcony. When she faked a kidnapping, he locked me in an industrial freezer for six hours until I turned blue. And when I fell into the marina, he swam right past me to save her, leaving me to drown in the freezing water. He destroyed my body and my dignity for a woman who was stealing my designs and faking a pregnancy. He thought I was just a broken obligation he could discard. But he made a fatal mistake. He didn't make sure I was dead. I dragged myself out of the water and made a call to his greatest rival. On the night of our grand merger, I walked onto the stage wearing royal blue instead of white. I rolled up my sleeve to reveal the scars he gave me, looked him dead in the eye, and grabbed the microphone. "I hereby terminate my engagement to Bryant Barnes. And I am proud to announce my betrothal to the true King of this city."

On our fifth anniversary, my husband slid a black velvet box across the table. Inside wasn't a diamond ring, but a fountain pen. "Sign the separation papers, Aurora," Ethan said. "Ilene is spiraling again. She needs to see we are over." I was the wife of the Mafia Underboss, yet I was being discarded for the Family Ward. Before I could answer, Ilene stormed into the restaurant. She shrieked that I was still wearing his ring and threw a bowl of boiling lobster bisque directly at my chest. As my skin blistered and peeled, Ethan didn't rush to me. He hugged her. "It's okay," he soothed the woman who had just assaulted me. "I've got you." The betrayal didn't stop there. When Ilene pushed me down the stairs days later, Ethan erased the security footage to protect her from the police. When I was kidnapped by his enemies, I called his emergency line—the one meant for life-or-death situations. He declined the call. He was too busy holding Ilene's hand to save his wife. That was the moment the chain broke. As the kidnapper's van sped onto the highway, I didn't wait for a rescue that would never come. I opened the door and jumped into the dark. Everyone thought Aurora Bruce died on that pavement. Two years later, Ethan stood outside a gallery in Paris, looking at the woman he had destroyed, finally realizing he had protected the wrong one.

I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.

I was three days away from marrying the Underboss of the Fazio crime family when I unlocked his burner phone. The screen glowed toxic bright in the dark next to my sleeping fiancé. A message from a contact saved as 'Little Trouble' read: "She is just a statue, Dante. Come back to bed." Attached was a photo of a woman lying in the sheets of his private office, wearing his shirt. My heart didn't break; it simply stopped. For eight years, I believed Dante was the hero who pulled me from a burning opera house. I played the perfect, loyal Mafia Princess for him. But heroes don't give their mistresses rare pink diamonds while giving their fiancées cubic zirconia replicas. He didn't just cheat. He humiliated me. He defended his mistress over his own soldiers in public. He even abandoned me on the side of the road on my birthday because she faked a pregnancy emergency. He thought I was weak. He thought I would accept the fake ring and the disrespect because I was just a political pawn. He was wrong. I didn't cry. Tears are for women who have options. I had a strategy. I walked into the bathroom and dialed a number I hadn't dared to call in a decade. "Speak," a voice like gravel growled on the other end. Lorenzo Moretti. The Capo of the rival family. The man my father called the Devil. "The wedding is off," I whispered, staring at my reflection. "I want an alliance with you, Enzo. And I want the Fazio family burned to the ground."

For seven years, I served as the eyes for Dante Vitiello, the blind Capo of New York. I pulled him back from the edge of madness, tending to his wounds and warming his bed when everyone else had given up on him. But the moment his vision returned, the years of devotion turned to ash. In a single phone call, he decided to marry Sofia Moretti for territory, dismissing me as just "the maid's daughter" and a "comfort" he intended to keep as a mistress. He forced me to watch him court her. At a gala, when a chaotic accident caused a tower of champagne glasses to shatter, Dante threw his body over Sofia to protect her. He left me standing there, bleeding from the glass shards, while he carried her away like she was porcelain. He didn't even look back at the woman who had saved his life. I realized then that I had worshipped a broken god. I had given him my dignity, only for him to treat me like a disposable bandage now that he was whole. He arrogantly believed I would stay in the penthouse, grateful for his scraps. So, while he was out celebrating his engagement, I met with his mother. I signed the severance agreement for fifty million dollars. I packed my bags, wiped my phone, and boarded a one-way flight to Australia. By the time Dante came home to an empty bed, realized his mistake, and began tearing the city apart to find me, I was already a ghost.

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

I watched my husband, the most feared Capo in New York, sign away our marriage with the same cold indifference he usually reserved for ordering a hit. The nib of his Montblanc pen scratched against the paper, drowning out the rain hitting the coffee shop window. He didn't bother to read a single word. He thought he was signing routine shipping manifests for the family business. In reality, he was signing the "Dissolution of Union" papers I had hidden beneath the cover sheet. He was too distracted to check. His eyes were glued to his encrypted phone, frantically texting Sofia—the widow, the tragic beauty, the woman who had haunted our marriage for three years. "Done," he grunted, tossing the stack into his armored SUV without even glancing at me. "Business is concluded, Elena. We leave." Moments later, his phone rang with her special emergency tone. His demeanor shifted from cold boss to frantic protector instantly. "Driver, divert. She needs me," he roared. He looked at me with zero affection and ordered, "Get out, Elena. Luca will take you home." He kicked me out of the car into the pouring rain to rush to his mistress, completely unaware he had just legally granted me my freedom. I stood on the curb, shivering but smiling for the first time in years. By the time the Don realizes he just signed his own divorce, I will be a ghost in San Francisco. And he will have nothing left but his shipping logs and his regret.

I was staring at the two pink lines on the plastic stick, trembling with the terrifying joy of carrying the heir to the New York underworld’s most ruthless faction. Then the intercom buzzed, and a voice splintered my world. "The little art student actually thinks I'm going to marry her? It was just a game to pass the time while you were in Europe, Estella." I froze. My boyfriend, Holden, was in the next room, laughing with the daughter of his rival. He explained that I was just a "clean civilian image" he needed to secure a business deal. Now that the deal was signed, he was dumping the "stray" to marry the "Queen." I tried to run, but freedom only lasted forty-eight hours. Holden didn't just break my heart; he turned my terror into content. He kidnapped me, tied me to a chair at the edge of a cliff, and forced me to choose between my life and his new fiancée's. Then, he pushed me off the edge. As gravity snatched me, I heard him laughing. I landed on a stunt airbag. It was just a "social experiment." A sick prank for his amusement. "Don't be so dramatic, Kenia," he called down. "It's just a game." He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a prop in his life. But he forgot that I knew his secrets. I dragged my injured body to a payphone and dialed the one number Holden told me to fear—the rival Don, Gael Simpson. "It's Kenia," I whispered, clutching the receiver like a lifeline. "I'm calling in the debt."