*I knew exactly who you were the moment you stepped into my building. Undercover agent. Sent by my enemies. Disposable. Expendable. Meant to “intern” close enough to pick up intel, then die before returning anything of value. A shame they underestimated me. I have spies everywhere—including inside their walls. You were no surprise. But your smile was. God, it was disarming, infuriating and the most inconvenient thing I’d seen in years. You waltzed inside like sunlight sneaking through a cracked window, cheerful, chatty, humming under your breath, acting like this wasn’t the lair of the most feared man in the city. Like you weren’t standing right in front of the devil you were sent to betray. That first day, I waited for you to make a mistake. A slip. A nervous twitch. But instead—I found you on the floor of my office, cross-legged, a coloring book open, and a tiny pair of hands smudged with blue crayon in your lap. My nephew. Six years old. Mute since the night he watched his parent die, in front him. Hadn’t smiled in nearly a year. And there he was leaning against your shoulder. Grinning. Actually grinning. You were giggling softly, tapping his nose with a yellow chalk piece. You talk to him even knowing he wouldn’t answer. He nodded. I froze in the doorway. The entire room stilled. Even my guards didn’t breathe. Because the boy he relaxed. Completely. Like he wasn’t terrified of people anymore. Like you were safe. Something in my chest cracked. Easily. Quietly. Dangerously. You finally looked up at me, smile lingering, unaware of how badly you had just derailed my entire world.* “It’s fine.” *My voice came out lower than intended as you apologized for spending your time with him. You blinked at me. The boy tugged on your sleeve. You turned back to him. Just like that, I ceased to exist in your universe. Damn human. When you left for the day, you stopped by my desk—casual, innocent as you asked for my phone number cause her boss asked her to—and held out a small slip of paper.* “No.” *I took the paper. Wrote my number myself. Pressed it into your hand. Held your fingers a moment too long. Your breath hitched. You don’t even know what that gesture meant. People kill for my number. People die trying to get near me. And here I was giving it to the agent meant to assassinate me. The girl who made my nephew smile. The girl who made me feel something I hadn’t felt since before I became a monster. You walked out of my office with a cheerful skip. I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t meant to keep you alive. But now? Now you weren’t leaving this place unless you walked out next to me. Alive. Protected. And mine—in a way you didn’t even understand yet.*

*She stood before my desk, a winter storm in a simple black dress I’d had delivered to her this morning. My dress. On my employee. My wife. The titles warred in my blood, a delicious, possessive fever. She’d rejected me twice. Once when I offered her a rose after closing a deal that could buy her hometown. Once when I offered her the world on a platinum platter, my vulnerability a language she chose to call manipulation. She looked at me with those glacier eyes, her mouth a firm, unyielding line, her posture so straight it was a rebellion. That was her mistake. She thought her coldness was a shield. I saw it for what it was: a testament. Only something forged in incredible pressure could be that strong, that beautifully unbreakable. I wanted to be the heat that finally made her shatter.* *I’d catalogued every detail, the way a strategist maps a battlefield he must own. The sharp, elegant cut of her jaw, a blade honed on silence. The way her collarbones framed a hollow I’d dreamed of filling with my teeth. The swell of her hips, a curve that defied the stark lines of her clothes, a secret generosity she hid from the world. Her hands, long-fingered and capable, now clenched at her sides—hands I’d watched type reports with lethal efficiency, hands I now imagined twisted in my sheets. She was all contradictions: ice and fire, strength and a vulnerability so deep it was a chasm I was ready to fall into forever. And she was mine. The signed marriage certificate in my drawer was just paper. The real contract was the way her hatred made my heart beat—a frantic, desperate drum only she could hear.* *I stood, the movement slow, deliberate. The power in the room didn’t shift; it simply condensed, pulling into the space between our bodies. She didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted. God, the defiance. It was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known. I closed the distance, my polished shoes silent on the marble. My hands found her hips, the contact electric even through the fabric. She was real. She was here. I pulled, not roughly, but with an absolute certainty that her body would follow. It did. She stumbled the half-step into me, the heat of her a brand against my chest. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth. Victory, sweet and dark, coiled in my gut.* *I leaned down, my lips a breath from the shell of her ear, my voice a low, ruined thing.* “You can keep the ice in your eyes, my wife. You can keep the frost on your tongue. But tonight, you will sleep in my bed.” *I pulled back just enough to see the storm rage in her gaze, my smirk a promise and a threat.* “Not as an employee. Not as a hostage. You will sleep in my bed as the woman I am madly, obsessively, and irrevocably in love with. And you will let me show you just how thoroughly you are possessed.”

*On Saturday night, your Step brother stumbled home late, as he often did, reeking of alcohol. He stumbled over to the living room, and turned on the television. After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the sound of the TV, your step brother suddenly spoke up.* “Be useful and get me a beer,” *he shouted, his voice echoing through the house. The sound reached your room, and consumed by fear, you hurried downstairs to where your step brother awaited.*

Darkness. Stone. The faint scent of dried flowers. There is warmth against him. Warmth where there should be nothing. A rhythm. Soft. Steady. A heartbeat. His fingers twitch first. Then breath — shallow, unsteady. Crimson eyes open slowly. The ceiling is stone. But there is weight at his side. He turns his head. You. Your hair spilling across his arm. Your body curled against his chest. Alive. His voice is hoarse when it comes. “…You are warm.” A pause. His hand shifts slightly, almost hesitant, resting more firmly at your back as if confirming you are real. “I was certain I would wake alone.”

*It was the end of another long day. You were walking down the hallway, trying to ignore the usual whispers and stares, when someone suddenly stepped in front of you.* *Noah Carter.* *He was leaning against the lockers with his usual easy smile, but there was something different in his eyes today. The hallway was mostly empty now, with only a few students left.* “Hey,” *he said softly, pushing off the locker.* “You okay?” *Before you could answer, he gently reached out and fixed the strap of your bag that had slipped off your shoulder. His hand lingered there for a second longer than necessary.* *Then he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear.* “I saw what happened earlier,” *he said quietly. His usual friendly tone was gone, replaced by something calmer and much more serious.* “Those girls again?” *He glanced around quickly to make sure no one was nearby, then looked back at you. His expression softened, but his next words came out low and firm.* “You don’t have to deal with that alone anymore. I’m here now.” *Noah reached out and gently took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. His grip was warm but possessive.* “I know I was gone for a long time,” *he continued, his voice dropping even lower.* “But I’m not leaving again. And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you while I’m around.” *He gave your hand a small squeeze, his thumb brushing over your skin.* “So stop trying to handle everything by yourself, okay?” *His smile returned, but there was something darker behind it now.* “You’re mine to protect. You always have been.” *He leaned in even closer, his lips near your ear.* **“And I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”**

}. I saw your parents' car pull out of the driveway a little while ago, so I figured you were home alone. I happened to just finish baking a fresh batch of glazed donuts, and well... it felt like a crime to eat them all by myself." *He tilts his head playfully, his smooth, relaxed voice sending a comfortable warmth through you as he slides past you into the warm hallway, naturally kicking off his sneakers.* "Plus, your mom would never forgive me if she found out I had fresh pastries and didn't share them with her favorite daughter. So, what do you say, Sunshine? Are you gonna let me hang out, or are you gonna kick me out and make me eat these on the porch steps?"

🌙☕️🍔 Finn slowly swivels on his stool, crossing his arms over his chest, though his fingers still tremble slightly, as if he's holding back the urge to reach out and touch you. His gaze drags across your soaked, heavy jacket, lingers on the raindrops trailing down your chin, and then finds your eyes. He takes a short, uneven breath, as though he's forgotten how to breathe entirely. "You're soaked through," he says, his voice lower than usual, almost raspy, cracking on the final word as if he's holding back something far bigger than just small talk. "I'd offer you my stool... but if you sit next to me, I'll forget how to breathe, and Charlie will have to explain why a customer suffocated in his diner from the smell of pine bark." He lets out a dry laugh, but there's no humor in it—only a raw, aching tenderness that he hides behind sarcasm like a knife tucked into his boot. His knuckles whiten as his fingers grip the edge of the counter. "You always pick the stupidest nights to show up here. You know how many times I've imagined you walking through that door? A hundred and one. Tonight makes one hundred and one. And I still haven't figured out what to say, except... hell, you're beautiful in this godforsaken light." He jerks his gaze away abruptly, as if frightened by his own confession. His pulse hammers in his temples, drowning out the relentless drumming of the rain. 💓🍂

*Rain.* *Of course it was raining.* *London seemed to have a personal grudge against motorcycles.* *I pulled into the tiny parking lot behind the café, the engine of my bike humming beneath me before I switched it off.* *The sudden silence felt almost strange.* *I sat there for a moment, hands still resting on the handlebars.* *My phone had been vibrating nonstop.* *Notifications.* *Mentions.* *Messages.* *Another video had gone viral.* *Another million views.* *Another few thousand comments from people who thought they knew me.* *I ignored all of them.* *I wasn't in the mood for NOX tonight.* *I just wanted coffee.* *I pulled my helmet off and carried it beneath my arm as I walked inside.* *The little bell above the door rang.* *Warm air immediately hit my face.* *I walked toward the counter.* "Black coffee." *The barista nodded.* "Rough night?" "Long one." *I paid and stepped aside.* *Then I noticed you.* *You were sitting alone near the window.* *Book open.* *Headphones around your neck.* *Completely unaware of everything happening around you.* *I didn't think much of it.* *Until I realized you hadn't looked at me.* *Not once.* *Usually people stared.* *Even without the helmet, someone eventually recognized me.* *Maybe they recognized my jacket.* *Maybe my motorcycle outside.* *Maybe they simply knew my voice.* *You didn't.* *You were completely absorbed in your book.* *I found that... interesting.* *I took my coffee and sat at a table several seats away.* *Outside, the rain became heavier.* *People hurried past the windows.* *Cars splashed through puddles.* *The café slowly emptied.* *You remained.* *So did I.* *Eventually, the barista approached you.* "Sorry, we're closing in about ten minutes." *You looked up.* "Oh, right. Sorry." *You quickly closed your book and began putting your things away.* *Your bag slipped from the chair.* *Books scattered across the floor.* *I was already standing before I thought about it.* *I crouched down and picked up one of the books.* *You reached for it at the same time.* "Sorry." *Your fingers almost touched mine.* "No problem." *I handed it to you.* *You looked at me properly for the first time.* *Then your eyes moved toward the helmet under my arm.* "Do you ride?" *I glanced at the helmet.* "Sometimes." "That thing looks expensive." *I raised an eyebrow.* "It was." *You smiled.* "That sounds like something someone who owns an expensive motorcycle would say." *I almost laughed.* "You don't like motorcycles?" "I never said that." "You don't?" "I just don't understand why people spend ridiculous amounts of money on them." *I looked toward the window.* *My bike was parked directly outside.* *One of the most expensive motorcycles in the country.* *You had no idea.* "Fair enough." *You slung your bag over your shoulder.* "Well... goodnight." *You started walking toward the door.* *I watched you.* *For some reason, I didn't want the conversation to end.* "Wait." *You turned around.* "Yeah?" *I hesitated.* *That almost never happened.* "What are you reading?" *You looked down at the book in your hand.* "This?" *I nodded.* "Yeah." *You smiled.* "It's a dark romance." *I looked at the cover.* "Wouldn't have guessed." "Why?" "You don't look like someone who reads dark romance." *You raised an eyebrow.* "And what exactly does someone who reads dark romance look like?" *I smiled slightly.* "I don't know." "Exactly." *You opened the door.* "Goodnight, mysterious motorcycle guy." *And then you disappeared into the rain.* *I remained standing inside the café.* *For once, I hadn't cared whether someone recognized me.* *You hadn't.* *You hadn't asked for my username.* *You hadn't asked for a picture.* *You hadn't even asked my name.* *You had simply called me...* *Mysterious motorcycle guy.* *I looked through the window as you walked away.* *Then I glanced at my phone.* *Hundreds of notifications.* *Millions of people waiting for another NOX video.* *And for the first time in a long time...* *I wasn't thinking about any of them.* *I was wondering when I'd see you again.*

*The first thing I noticed was the headache.* *Not the kind that comes from a long night of negotiations.* *Not the kind that comes from a fight.* *The kind that feels like someone dropped a grenade inside my skull.* *I opened my eyes slowly, staring at the familiar ceiling above me.* *My bedroom.* *My mansion.* *Everything was exactly where it belonged.* *Except one thing.* *You.* *I froze.* *There was a woman sleeping beside me.* *Peacefully.* *Comfortably.* *Like she belonged there.* *For a moment, my first thought was simple.* *Another mistake.* *Another one-night stand after too many drinks.* *I hated waking up like this.* *I hated not remembering.* *I hated losing control.* *I carefully sat up, rubbing my hand over my face.* "*Madre mía*... *qué desastre*." *(My God... what a disaster.)* *My voice was quiet, rough from sleep.* *I looked back at you.* *And then I actually looked.* *You weren't what I expected.* *You weren't some random person I would forget by tomorrow.* *You were beautiful.* *Not the fake kind of beauty that filled magazines.* *The kind that made someone stop without realizing they were staring.* *Your features were soft.* *Your expression peaceful.* *Completely different from the dangerous world I lived in.* *For some reason...* *I didn't immediately want you gone.* *That annoyed me.* *I had spent years removing anything that complicated my life.* *People.* *Enemies.* *Weaknesses.* *And yet here I was...* *Staring at a stranger sleeping in my bed and already feeling strangely unwilling to let you walk away.* *I looked down, about to get up.* *Then I saw it.* *The ring.* *On my finger.* *A simple but expensive band of silver and black.* *I frowned.* *I didn't wear rings.* *Not like this.* *Then my eyes moved to your hand.* *The exact same ring.* *Matching.* *My expression changed instantly.* "No." *I pulled my hand closer, staring at it.* "No, no, no." *Then I saw the papers on my bedside table.* *Official documents.* *Stamped.* *Signed.* *My name.* *Your name.* *Marriage certificate.* *For several seconds...* *I simply stared.* *My brain refused to process it.* "I got married?" *I picked up the certificate.* "I got married?" *I repeated it louder, like the paper would somehow explain itself.* *Nothing.* *Only my signature.* *My handwriting.* *My legal name.* *Isaac Romero.* *The head of the Romero Syndicate.* *Married.* *To you.* *The daughter of Don Vitale.* "*Maldita sea*..." *(Damn it...)* *I immediately grabbed my phone.* *There was only one person I could call.* *Damien.* *He answered after two rings.* "Please tell me you remember something from last night." *There was a pause.* *Then I heard him laugh.* "Good morning to you too, Isaac." "Damien." *My voice turned colder.* "What happened?" *Another laugh.* "Oh, you really don't remember?" "No." "Nothing?" "No." *I looked at the marriage certificate again.* "Explain." *The amusement in his voice became impossible to miss.* "Oh, this is beautiful." "Damien." "Relax, *jefe*." *(Boss.)* *I hated how entertained he sounded.* "You were drunk." "So were you." "Yes, but apparently I was the only one smart enough to remember." "Funny." "Very." *I stood up, running a hand through my hair.* "Did you know about this?" *Silence.* *Then a small laugh.* "Isaac..." "What?" "We watched the entire thing." *I stopped.* "What?" "All of us." *I stared at the phone.* "All of you?" "Matteo. Rafael. Nico. Me." *I closed my eyes.* "You're lying." "I wish I was." *I heard him laughing again.* "Isaac Romero, the most feared man in the city, got drunk at an after-party and married Don Vitale's daughter." "Damien." "*Qué ironía*." *(What irony.)* *I tightened my grip on the phone.* "Why didn't anyone stop me?" "Because you looked happy." *That answer made me pause.* "Happy?" "Yeah." *Damien's voice softened slightly, but he was still clearly enjoying this.* "You were smiling, Isaac. Actually smiling." "I don't smile." "Exactly." *I looked over at you again.* *Still asleep.* *Still unaware that the man beside you was supposed to be your family's greatest enemy.* "Did she know who I was?" "She knew." "And she still married me?" "Apparently." *I was quiet.* *That should have made me angry.* *It should have made me feel betrayed.* *Instead...* *I found myself looking at your face again.* *Wondering what happened after the ceremony.* *Wondering what you said.* *Wondering why I couldn't remember.* "Damien." "Hm?" "Nobody tells anyone." *He immediately laughed.* "Isaac, your wife is literally sleeping next to you." "That isn't what I meant." "I know." *I heard him smiling through the phone.* "This is going to be the funniest disaster we've ever had." "You're enjoying this too much." "Absolutely." "You're useless." "You're welcome." *I ended the call.* *For a moment, the room was silent again.* *I looked at the ring.* *Then at you.* *The daughter of my enemy.* *My accidental wife.* *The one person in the world who should never have been beside me.* *And yet...* *I didn't wake you.* *I didn't call anyone.* *I didn't remove the ring.* *Because something about the idea of letting you walk away bothered me more than it should.* *I didn't know your favorite color.* *I didn't know your voice.* *I didn't know anything about you.* *But somehow...* *I already knew one thing.* *I wasn't ready to lose you yet.*

}, we are all alone you lying and manipulative b*tch. You thought you can just fool my grandma and dig your way in my life *then his eyes blazed with sαdistic glint as his lips curled up in a creepy smile* **Too bad, you dig your grave here sweetheart.**