Nora Styles' first one nightstand has gone wrong. Kendra has to make Declan propose but there a thousand ways to get it done.
Nora Styles' first one nightstand has gone wrong. Kendra has to make Declan propose but there a thousand ways to get it done.
"Returning to the scene of the crime?" Nora Styles asked as she stared at the dark-haired man standing on her porch. She supposed the polite response to his presence was to invite him in. And she would... in a minute. But first she was going to make him work for it.
Dante Mateo, all six feet of dark-eyed, arrogant handsomeness, narrowed his gaze. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?" he asked.
Nora smiled. "No, would you, if you were me?"
He surprised her by flashing a grin. "No, I wouldn't."
"An honest man." she bumped the door open wider with her hip and stepped back to let him in. "It's a miracle".
He moved into the house. Nora let the screen door slam into place, but left the thick wooden door open. It was summer in Kelptown, and plenty warm. The breeze would be nice. Plus- and this was the part she would never admit to Dante - having the door open meant there weren't totally alone. Okay, they were alone, but it didn't feel so intimate. And based on what had happened the last time they'd been together in this house, that was a good thing.
Dante paused in the middle of her living room, as if not sure where to go. His head turned slightly and she had a feeling he was glancing down the hall- towards her bedroom. No doubt remembering what had happened some five months ago.
Nora wanted to say it hadn't been her fault- that everyone was allowed to be stupid on valentine's day. Or in her case, Valentine's day night. Only she had known exactly what she was doing and it had been as wonderful and disastrous as anyone could have imagined. Now both she and Dante were going to have to deal with the consequences.
He turned to her face, then motioned to the sofa. "We should probably have a seat,"
"Will that make things easier for you?" She asked.
"If yes, will you sit?"
"Probably,"
"Then yes. It makes things easier."
Nora settled in one of the club chair while Dante took the sofa.
He moved with controlled power. It was the former professional athletic thing, she thought, watching him sit down. At the risk of sounding like a groupie, she had firsthand knowledge that the man knew how to use his body. Of course, the last time she'd been in his presence, she hadn't been interested in sitting. Or talking. But then neither had he. They'd practically tumbled over each other in their race to her bedroom. He'd -
Nora pushed the very visceral memories away. Yes, Dante had been delicious in bed. But then things had gone downhill, she needed to remember what was important. He was here about a job. Not his unrequited lust for he. Based on how he'd been avoiding her for the past several months, when it came to her, he was plenty requited.
But he was also in a bit of a pickle.
The old-fashioned phrase made her want to smile. Yup, Dante needed her. Not in a delusional take me now kind of way, but for business. She was a party planner and he wanted to plan a really big business event. He was stuck and she was his way out. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, circumstances went her way. So after five months of being able to ignore her and that single night, he'd been forced to see her. Was it so wrong of her to enjoy the moment? She thought perhaps not.
She rested her hands flat on her thighs and looked at him. "How can I help you?"
His dark gaze settled on her face. "Really, you're not going to admit you know what any of this is all about?"
She blinked deliberately, then opened her eyes wide.
"When you made your appointment to speak with me, you didn't mention a subject." Of course she knew why he was here , but yet again, a little emotional torture seemed the right kind of payback.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. "All right. We'll play this your way. I am Dante Mateo. I'm a partner at Rave P F C."
She grinned. "I know who you are Dante. We don't have to pretend that much. Just tell me what you want and we'll move on from there."
"He swore under his breath. "You're friends with Hilda. You've done work for her. How long are you going to punish me?"
He was right about Hilda. She and Nora were friends and had worked together several times. Rave P F C, the PR firm in question, had moved to Kelptown just after the first of the year. Three of the partners were former Sars Players and Hilda was the glue that held the company together.
"I haven't completely decided how long you should be punished," she admitted, wondering if batting her eyes again would be too I er-the-top.
He sighed heavily. "Fine. We'll do this your way. Now that we've moved our business here, my partners and I want to have a big party for our clients. We've booked a hotel, but that's as fast as the planning has gotten."
"A party," she breathes, and pressed her hand to her chest. "That sounds great, really nice."
*****
In truth, being a neurosurgeon or the person who used to land the space shuttle probably made the top-ten list of jobs designed to give a person an ulcer. Jung-woo would guess whoever was in charge of the ball dropping in The Cabdagasca on New year's eve probably had a few sleepless nights. But he would add that being a kicker for the Sars team had it's moments of stress. When he's been with the Lake Dragons, he'd been responsible for twenty-four wins, including five during play-off games and one Super Bowl victory. He knew what it was like to have everyone watching him, both in person and on TV, and have his job performance critiqued endlessly.
A night of misconception births Charlotte Browns fortune to wealth after encountering the ruthless Billionaire, Wesley Jameson. The image of them together is perfect, Wesley seizes the opportunity tom distract himself from his past trauma, he makes her his new toy. Can Charlotte Brown handle the hurdles that comes with wealth and status?
I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.
“You need a bride, I need a groom. Why don’t we get married?” Both abandoned at the altar, Elyse decided to tie the knot with the disabled stranger from the venue next door. Pitying his state, she vowed to spoil him once they were married. Little did she know that he was actually a powerful tycoon. Jayden thought Elyse only married him for his money, and planned to divorce her when she was no longer of use to him. But after becoming her husband, he was faced with a new dilemma. “She keeps asking for a divorce, but I don’t want that! What should I do?”
Rumors claimed that Fernanda, newly back with her family, was nothing more than a violent country bumpkin. Fernanda just flashed a casual, dismissive grin in response. Another rumor suggested that the usually rational Cristian had lost all sense, madly in love with Fernanda. This frustrated her. She could tolerate gossip about herself, but slander against her beloved crossed the line! Gradually, as Fernanda's multiple identities as a celebrated designer, a savvy gamer, an acclaimed painter, and a successful business magnate came to light, everyone realized they were the ones who had been fooled.
For as long as Emily can remember, she has wanted to overcome her shyness and explore her sexuality. Still, everything changes when she receives an invitation to visit one of the town's most prestigious BDSM clubs, DESIRE'S DEN. On the day she chose to peruse the club, she noticed three men, all dressed in suits, standing on the upper level, near the railing. Despite her limited vision, she persisted in fixating on them. Their towering statues belied the toned bodies concealed by their sharply tailored suits-or so she could tell. The hair of two of them was short and dark, and the third had light brown-possibly blond-hair that reached the shoulders. The dark, crimson background incised their figures, exuding an air of mystery and strength. They stood in stark contrast to the unfiltered, primal energy that pulsed through the club. Shocked by the desires these men aroused in her, she was disappointed to learn that they were masters seeking a slave to divide and conquer. She couldn't afford the fee, and she also realized that they were outside her league. Emily hurriedly left the club, feeling disappointed and depressed, unaware that she had also caught the group's attention. A world of wicked pleasure, three handsome men. Over the years, they have lived a life of decadence, their lavish lair serving as a stage for their most sinister desires. But despite the unending parade of willing subjects, one woman sticks out. A mysterious stranger with white porcelain skin and a killer body, a slave, a name with no address, the first lady to attract their eye and they will go to any length to obtain her no matter the consequences.
Darya spent three years loving Micah, worshipping the ground he walked on. Until his neglect and his family's abuse finally woke her up to the ugly truth-he doesn't love her. Never did, never will. To her, he is a hero, her knight in shining armour. To him, she is an opportunist, a gold digger who schemed her way into his life. Darya accepts the harsh reality, gathers the shattered pieces of her dignity, divorces him, takes back her real name, reclaims her title as the country's youngest billionaire heiress. Their paths cross again at a party. Micah watches his ex-wife sing like an angel, tear up the dance floor, then thwart a lecher with a roundhouse kick. He realises, belatedly, that she's exactly the kind of woman he'd want to marry, if only he had taken the trouble to get to know her. Micah acts promptly to win her back, but discovers she's now surrounded by eligible bachelors: high-powered CEO, genius biochemist, award-winning singer, reformed playboy. Worse, she makes it pretty clear that she's done with him. Micah gears up for an uphill battle. He must prove to her he's still worthy of her love before she falls for someone else. And time is running out.
With a contract, they got married in a flash. He doted on her, loved her, and made her the envy of all women in the world. When she took the pregnancy test sheet and stood happily in front of him, he handed over the divorce papers. She didn't ask him for an astronomical compensation,and left without any property. Five years later, when she and her fiancé were choosing the wedding dress arm in arm, he suddenly showed up. He dragged her to his side and said possessively, "Baby, my son said, he doesn't want a stepfather."
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