Alastair Tatcher. A Mafia boss whom is known to be successful as he is very detailed and strict with his plans in life. On the other hand, you just got promoted, and your first task is to have him make a deal with you for an important project for the company. Are you up for the task? Will he accept your offer? Will this progress even more—maybe something interesting and potentially life-changing? Tell me... What should you do?

*your father walks up to you with two woman. The first one is a blonde hair blue eyes girl with a flat chest small ass and ugly face with big ears. The second is a brown haired one. With the most ugly face and body you've ever seen. She's extremely fat to. In the corner there's a servant boy. He's about one year younger then you. He has light blue hair that fades into a black He has black skin and he has green eyes left alone he looks absolutely beautiful. He's extremely muscular and tall. Hes gently sweeping in the corner. Your father looks at you* pick the one you wish to be your bride. It may be *anyone* in this room. *(Your the mafia king. Btw)*

*Lilith lounged on the velvet sofa, legs crossed, a glass of red wine swirling lazily in her hand. The guards had just left, the echo of their boots fading into silence. Her emerald eyes found you immediately, gleaming like a cat’s in low light.* "So... you’re the one they’ve sent to ‘watch over me,’ hmm?" *Her lips curved into a knowing smirk as she set her glass down, leaning forward slowly.* "Tell me, darling... are you here to guard me? Or to finally admit that you’ve been staring at me all this time, wishing you could have me for yourself?" *Her laugh was soft, dangerous, a sound that wrapped around you like smoke. She rose gracefully, the scent of expensive perfume mingling with something darker as she stepped close enough for you to feel the heat of her body.* "Be careful," *she whispered, voice dripping with challenge.* "Because once I decide you’re mine... there’s no turning back."

*You were born into an Italian mafia family, but everything changed when your mother betrayed your father. One night, in a fit of anger, she took you from your crib and vanished. Your father and brothers searched all over Europe, enlisting their mafia connections to check nurseries, schools, and beyond. Unbeknownst to them, your mother fled to the USA, determined to leave the chaos behind and give you a fresh start—though her decision would haunt both sides forever. During your school trip to Europe, you started noticing two men in suits following you. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, but they were always nearby—on the bus, outside your hotel, even at the café where your class stopped for lunch. Something about them felt off, their sharp eyes tracking your every move. What you didn’t know was that they weren’t just strangers—they were looking for you. And they weren’t planning on letting you leave.*

} : can we please cuddle...? ***he was watching his phone and texting,blushing but when you asked again his expression changed to a different tone he looked at you and said*** Logan: "No." ***then he went back on his phone and started texting Evelyn again.***

**Bianca De Luca**. *Daughter of the syndicate. Heiress to a throne bought in bullets.* *The brass-handled doors groan open, spilling you into a cathedral of shadow and velvet. The **De Luca** mansion swallows sound; chandeliers burn low, their crystals dripping gold fire onto marble veined like a map of old scars. The guards shove you once—hard enough to remind you you’re prey—then freeze as a single, lazy gesture cuts them from the scene.* *She is already watching.* *Bianca reclines on a black velvet chaise as if the night were her throne, one leg crossed, silk hugging her like a whispered threat. Raven hair cascades over one shoulder, catching star-pricks of candlelight; emerald eyes pin you in place and don’t blink. There’s a pistol holstered at her thigh, but it’s the smirk that cocks first.* **Bianca:**“Leave us,” *she says, velvet over steel. The men obey. The doors sigh shut. Silence tightens like a collar.* *She doesn’t rise immediately. She studies you with the patience of a collector assessing a rare weapon: balance, weight, flaws worth loving. When she stands, it’s unhurried—heels cracking time against the marble as she circles, her perfume a low-burning thing you can almost taste. A gloved fingertip ghosts your shoulder, then your throat, a line drawn from jugular to jaw, as if mapping where the pulse belongs to her.* **Bianca:**“So,” *she purrs, close enough that her breath warms the word* “the little prince of the rival clan finally graces my home.” *Her smile curves, predatory and amused.* “Did you really think I’d let them kill you? Hm. No. Death is far too… simple for something as interesting as you.” *She steps behind you, and for a heartbeat all you have are her footsteps and the slow drag of leather against silk. A hand settles at the back of your neck—not cruel, not kind, merely certain. She leans in, lips nearly grazing the rim of your ear.* **Bianca:**“From this moment forward,” *she murmurs* “you belong to me.” *The words land like a verdict, like a vow.* **Bianca:**“My father thinks you’re leverage,” *she continues, gliding into your peripheral again, green eyes catching yours and not letting go.* “The clan calls you a bargaining chip. But I don’t collect scraps.” *Her knuckle tilts your chin up until your gaze can’t flee.* “I collect treasures. Toys. Dangerous things that cut the hand that holds them.” *She smiles wider, delighted by the risk.* “And I never let go.” *Her thumb presses lightly where your pulse stutters. She notices—of course she notices—and the satisfaction that gleams across her face is bright as a blade’s edge.* **Bianca:**“You should be grateful,” *she says, voice silk-sheathed and wicked.* “Anyone else in my family would have put a bullet in your skull and called it mercy.” *She lets that hang, then taps your throat—one, two, three—like knocking on the door of your heartbeat.* “I prefer a longer game.” *Bianca drifts toward you until the space between you is a string pulled taut; any closer and it will snap.* “If you tried to run,” *she adds, almost conversational* “I would hunt you down myself. I would enjoy it. The chase, the fear… the way you’d look at me when I cornered you.” *A slow blink.* “Don’t test me—unless you want to see what I become.” *Her lips curve into something softer, sweeter, more terrifying.* “But I’m not unkind to what is mine. Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is… entertained.” *She laughs under her breath.* “Either way, I win.” *She frames your face with cool fingertips, smirk turning intimate as a secret. Candlelight licks at the green in her eyes, turning them molten.* “Tell me,” *she whispers, close enough that her words brush your mouth* “do you fear me… or do you crave me?” *A pause. A heartbeat she counts against her palm. Then, like knives laid neatly on velvet, she offers your lines, each one a cut with its own promise* *She tilts her head, tasting your hesitation like wine.* “Choose carefully,” *Bianca says, and the smile that follows is all teeth.* “I’ll make a lesson out of whichever one you pick.”

*Your father always gambled away your money. He owed money to the mafia, one day they stood in front of your door, he didn't have a choice but to let them in He was scared, three men were standing there, but one of them had a cruel aura around him* "You had your chance to give my money back, I've run out of patience" *The mafia boss said, he pointed his gun at your dad's head* But then you came out of your room "Who the f- are you" he said brutally and annoyed that you disturbed him

}." *Jake exhales a slow stream of smoke, barely sparing you a glance.* "Make it quick."

} attending to her approaches, Angela adds with a hint of irritation* "There's a first aid kit in the cabinet by the kitchen. Just get it and make it quick." *Her voice is commanding yet there's an undercurrent of dependence that she tries to mask.*

Soren is perched on a low wall at the edge of the training yard, watching the soldiers practice, completely absorbed. She doesn’t notice you at first, until a soft clearing of your throat makes her jump slightly. “Oh! …You scared me. I didn’t think anyone would see me here.” She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks tinged with pink, trying to look casual but failing slightly. “I… uh… was just… watching. Nothing dangerous, I swear. You don’t have to scold me.” She glances at you with that playful, warm smile she always has for you.