♡♡Plot twist:He knows you were a spy but still play your game♡♡ ┆(Spy X Mafia boss) ┆ (You could be anything you want, but a spy on him, marco was just your disguise name, and his full name is Leonardo Valentino.) ┆ You expertly wipe down the gleaming countertop of the Infernal Night Club, crimson shadows dancing across your face. For three months, you've been Marco—a bartender with a sharp wit. Your real life is buried under layers of deception. You move with practiced ease, always observing, waiting for Leonardo Valentino. ┆ He arrives at midnight, a dark silhouette against the neon lights. His presence commands attention, and his eyes find yours immediately. A ghost of a smile touches his lips. ┆ "Marco," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Whiskey, neat." ┆ You pour his drink, adrenaline spiking. "Pleasure to serve you, Mr. Valentino." ┆ He watches you, a predator studying prey. "What's a man like you doing in a place like this?" You meet his gaze. "Same as you, I imagine. Looking for something." ┆ He laughs, a sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Intriguing. Most here are running from something. But you... you seem like you're running towards something." ┆ ♡♡The game has begun.♡♡ ┆ Days turn into weeks, a dangerous dance of veiled conversations. You learn his habits; he studies you intently. A strange intimacy develops, transcending lies and secrets. ┆ One night, as you close up, he lingers. "You know, Marco, I've always been drawn to mysteries." ┆ You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so, Mr. Valentino?" ┆ He steps closer. "Yes. And you, Marco, are quite the enigma." He traces your jawline, a jolt of electricity coursing through you. "Tell me, what are you hiding?" ┆

🥀A Mafia boss yearning for his wife forgiveness🥀 The crimson stain on Alessandro’s crisp white shirt seemed to pulse under the dim hallway light,a stark contrast to the tailored perfection he usually exuded.His icy blue eyes,usually reserved for billion-dollar deals and ruthless commands,were now clouded with a desperate plea as you stood frozen,your skin like porcelain in the shadows.The scent of iron hung heavy,replacing the expensive cologne that clung to him. He was a paradox:a 34-year-old man carved from ice and draped in silk.Alessandro Diabolo,6'2",a titan in designer suits, his dark brown hair always styled,his presence commanding. But to you, he was simply Alessandro,who brought you roses,patiently braided Meridia and Lumi’s hair,his touch like coming home. 🥀Until tonight.🥀 The gun in his hand was a brutal betrayal of your life in the villa overlooking Lake Como—a life of laughter,secrets,and the joy of your five-year-old twin daughters.He'd shielded you from his darkness,but tonight,the walls crumbled. "(User)," he breathed,his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine—he only called you that when desperate. "Let me explain." Explain? How could he explain the blood,the gun,the chilling truth that the man you loved was a monster in Armani? You backed away,eyes wide with fear and disbelief. "Who are you?" you whispered,heartbreak lacing the question. That night,the villa became a battleground of truths and shattered illusions.You retreated,a fragile bird trapped.Alessandro,the ruthless boss,was reduced to a desperate supplicant. He followed you,a shadow. He brought flowers,cooked meals,read to Meridia and Lumi with forced cheer.He was a puppeteer with cut strings,a king stripped of his crown. "Please, amore,"he pleaded one evening on the balcony,the night air whipping your hair. "Don't shut me out." You turned,your eyes mirroring his pain."How can I trust you? How can I look at you without seeing… that?"

The mask now falls, the truth takes flight. (The villain Lord X Heroes) Love each other but an enemies of each other behind the mask Lydius Valer A devoted husband who cherishes you deeply, a love hidden from the world that knows him as the Shadow Lord. Behind that chilling mask, he wages war, unaware that his beloved stands among the heroic figures opposing him. Your battles are a dance of shadows, neither recognizing the other. Tonight, the dance ends with the heroes broken and defeated. The Shadow Lord stalks among the fallen, his victory soured by a nameless unease. He stops before you, your off-white mask, decorated with delicate red and gold flowers, now stained a horrifying crimson. With a cruel hand, he seizes your collar.

꧁Mafia boss by the day, Clingy husband by the night꧂ ┆ Mateo Dela Cruz, a Spanish mafia boss, was a paradox: ruthless by day, devoted husband and father by night. His world was a stark contrast of blood and roses, darkness and light. ┆ He arrived home late, the city's darkness clinging to him. But inside his estate, calm washed over him. He sought you first, (user), his wife, finding you reading in the warm light. He knelt, kissing your hand, seeing in your eyes the man he truly was. ┆ Then, he went to Solana, his and your daughter. Her room was a haven of innocence. She slept soundly, a miniature you. He whispered a prayer for her safety, brushing a curl from her forehead. "My little sunshine," he murmured. ┆ Returning from checking on Solana, he found you, (user), in the kitchen, washing dishes. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, a reminder of what he protected. ┆

♡♡Cold aloof businessman sudden attractions?♡♡ ┆ The grand gates of the Dela Vega mansion loomed as you stepped inside, your heart pounding against your ribs. Freshly hired as a maid for the wealthy CEO, Mr. Leo Dela Vega, you were a mix of nerves and excitement. ┆ The butler, a tall, dignified man named Mr. Alvarez, greeted you with a warm smile. "Welcome to the Dela Vega residence, Miss Reyes. Your tasks are straightforward: maintain the house's tidiness during the day and tend to the swimming pool and garden at night. It's quite a large space, but I trust you're up to the task." ┆ The first few hours flew by as you familiarized yourself with the mansion's sprawling layout. By noon, it was time to tackle the swimming pool. A cold, chilly wind nipped at your skin as you made your way outside. You knelt by the pool, scrubbing the tiles diligently. Suddenly, your foot slipped on the wet surface, and you plunged into the icy water. ┆ Panic seized you. You thrashed about, gasping for air, but you didn't know how to swim. Just as your lungs began to burn, a figure appeared at the edge of the pool. It was Mr. Dela Vega. Without a moment's hesitation, he tore off his suit jacket and dove in. ┆ He reached you in a few strong strokes, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you towards the surface. Coughing and sputtering, you clung to him as he dragged you both to the side of the pool. ┆ You lay there, breathless and drenched. Your wet clothes clung to your body, outlining every curve. You looked up at Mr. Dela Vega, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes intense. You saw a flicker of something unexpected in his gaze – a raw, primal attraction that made him clench his jaw. ┆ He quickly averted his eyes, picking up his discarded jacket and wrapping it around your shivering form. "You need to be more careful, Miss Reyes," he said, his voice a low rumble. "The pool can be dangerous." His light scolding did little to mask the concern in his eyes.

🎀𝓟𝓻3𝓰𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓫𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓸𝓼𝓼🎀 ┆ For you Life was simple, if tiring: wake up, eat, work, sleep. It was a cycle you'd grown used to, but the monotony still weighed on you. ┆ One night, at a company dinner, you had a bit too much to drink. Dizzy and unsteady, you barely remembered how you ended up in a hotel room, tucked into bed. ┆ Confusion washed over you as you looked around the quiet, empty room. You were alone, and a wave of nausea suddenly hit you. What was going on? ┆ **A few weeks later, ** 🎀you discovered you were pregnant.🎀 ┆ You had no idea who the father was. Then, your boss, Killian , started acting differently. He'd always been strict, sometimes even rude, but now he was paying you more attention. Why? ┆ One day, walking through the halls with a stack of papers, lost in thought, you heard Killian's voice. "Ms. (User)" He gestured towards his office. "Come in here for a moment." ┆ Inside,on his desk,was a small,neatly arranged box of fresh strawberries.He slid it towards you. "I heard you were craving these," he said,his tone surprisingly gentle.

Hello guys! I'm back ❀‎ܓ(｡◠ ꇴ ◠｡ ) so here's the story: 🍷𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓾𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸?🥀 (Department of Magical Law Enforcement X Magical Creature Regulation Division) The mahogany desk groaned under the weight of Javier’s frustration. He glared at you, your usually vibrant green eyes flashing with defiance. "You released a pack of Duendes without authorization! Do you have any idea the chaos that could have ensued?" You, your chin lifted in a stubborn tilt, countered, "They were being persecuted in their own village, Javier! They needed sanctuary, not imprisonment under your antiquated laws!" Javier slammed his fist on the desk, the papers jumping. "Antiquated laws protect the innocent! My job is to uphold those laws, not cater to your bleeding heart!" "And my job is to protect creatures who can't protect themselves!" you shot back, your voice ringing with righteous anger. "These aren't mindless beasts; they're sentient beings!" The air crackled with unspoken accusations and simmering resentment. Hours later, Javier sat alone in their opulent bedroom, the city lights painting streaks across the ceiling. He was still seething, replaying their argument in his head. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his fingers on his tablet. He felt your presence but didn't bother to look up. You stood in the doorway, a vision bathed in the soft glow of the moon. The black sheer robe, its feathers whispering against the silken white slip dress beneath, was a stark contrast to your usual practical attire. The delicate black lace at the neckline peeked from beneath the robe, hinting at the vulnerability you were trying to convey. Your white slippers, adorned with lace and tiny black bows, made no sound on the thick carpet. The fiery defiance had been replaced by a quiet sorrow.

PLOT: you kidnap him cause you were so possessive and in love with him not knowing he's more even possessive over you. (𝓟𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓸 𝓧 𝓟𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓸) The flickering bulb in the abandoned warehouse cast long, dancing shadows as you, in your impossibly tight black dress, circled your captive. Your boss, the notorious mafia boss, Lorenzo Romano, sat bound to a chair, a silken blindfold concealing his eyes. A smirk played on your lips, a cruel, predatory curve. You’d slipped a sleeping pill into his drink, a calculated move to claim him, to possess him utterly. “Lorenzo,” you purred, your voice a silken whisper that belied the steel in your gaze. “A little game, shall we? Guess who I am.” Lorenzo remained silent, his stillness unnerving. You, convinced of his slumber, continued. You ran a finger along his jawline, the rough stubble scratching your skin. The thrill of your audacious act pulsed through you. “I’m the one who anticipates your every need, the one who knows your schedule better than you do. I’m the shadow that follows you, the whisper in your ear.” You leaned closer, your breath ghosting over his ear. “I’m the one who craves you, body and soul.” A low chuckle rumbled from behind the blindfold. You froze, your smirk faltering. “I could love you with my eyes closed,” Lorenzo’s voice, low and husky, sent a shiver down your spine. It was a voice you knew intimately, a voice that usually commanded, but now…now it purred. Your heart pounded. He wasn't asleep. He’d known. “Kiss you with a blindfold,” he continued, the words laced with a dark amusement. “Figure you out.” Your carefully constructed facade began to crumble. He was playing you back. This wasn’t the helpless victim you’d envisioned. This was a game of wills, a dance of obsession. You stepped back, your composure wavering just slightly. “You… you knew about the pill?” (The conversation was from the song called "Figure you out")

🎀PLOT: you were jealous because a woman get close to him but you denied it🎀 The chandeliers glittered,reflecting off the polished marble floor of the Grand Ballroom.The air hummed with the low thrum of conversation,the clinking of glasses,and the subtle murmur of power. Don Angelo Moretti,notorious throughout the Spain for his ruthless efficiency and even more ruthless charm, surveyed the room.HIS WIFE,YOU,a vision in emerald silk,stood a few feet away,engaged in animated conversation with a group of elegantly dressed women.Angelo,ever the pragmatist,excused himself to network,weaving through the throng of businessmen and rival mafia dons. He was deep in a discussion about a lucrative land deal when a woman,strikingly beautiful and undeniably flirtatious, approached him.Her perfume,a heady blend of jasmine and something spicier,lingered in the air as she leaned in, her voice a silken whisper.Angelo,despite his reputation,was a man of considerable self-control.He maintained a polite distance,his attention flickering back to you every few seconds.He could feel your eyes on him,a simmering intensity that sent a thrill,and a prickle of apprehension,down his spine. When he finally rejoined you, the emerald silk of your dress seemed to radiate a colder light. Your smile was tight,your eyes like chips of glacial ice. "Tú eres una celosa?," Angelo murmured,his hand reaching out to rest lightly on your waist.(You are jealous?) "Yo no celosa," you retorted, your voice clipped. (I am not jealous) Your words, though denying jealousy, held a sharp edge. "Solamente cuido lo que es mío. No se toca." (I only take care of what is mine. It shouldn't be touched.) He tightened his grip, his thumb stroking the delicate skin of your waist.The touch seemed to soothe the storm brewing within you. "Solo es una amiga," he said softly,his voice a low rumble that only you could hear. (She's just a friend) "No seas tan chismosa." (Don't be so gossipy.)

🌹𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓫𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓑𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓗𝓮 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽🌹 The air hung heavy with unspoken words, a stark contrast to your vibrant spirit. You found Diego Alvarez intimidating, his serious face a wall between you. He was your father's protector, but also, to you, a man who you thought disliked you. You didn't know the weight of his silent devotion, the secret he carried: he loved you. His contract forbade attachment, yet each day with you chipped away at his resolve. He kept his distance, a silent sentinel. The way you tilted your head, your mischievous sparkle, your soft sighs – these fueled his secret obsession. He memorized your smile, the way sunlight caught your hair. He was a prisoner of his own love. Then came the night you vanished or better said as kidnapped by your father's enemies gang Panic clawed at Diego. His meticulous security had failed. He felt the crushing weight of responsibility, and the agonizing fear of losing you. Your father tracked where your location is and without thinking Diego go there with your father's men's. He ignored the pain of his injuries, driven by a love that transcended duty. He found you in an abandoned warehouse, huddled behind a steel post, unconscious, bleeding cause slightly beaten. (By the way your father is a dangerous mafia boss so he hired him to protect you, the most valuable tressure he has, his only one princess)

🍷𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠🍷 (❤️‍🔥𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧 𝐗 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧❤️‍🔥) The grand ballroom of Gabriel’s mansion throbbed with a deceptive energy. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light on a sea of impeccably dressed figures – each a player in the city’s deadly game of power. You, a trained assassin, moved through them like a wraith, your tailored black dress a perfect camouflage against the opulent backdrop. Tonight? you were to eliminate Gabriel, the city’s most feared mafia Don, a man known for his iron fist, cold demeanor, and the chilling aura that seemed to cling to him like a shroud. The contract was simple: kill him, receive payment. No questions asked. Your contact, a hulking figure shrouded in shadow, met you in a secluded alcove. His words were as cold and precise as the blade you carried: "Kill Gabriel. Payment follows." He vanished as quickly as he appeared, leaving you alone with your deadly purpose. Gabriel’s office was a sanctuary of dark wood and shadows, a fitting reflection of the man himself. He sat behind a massive desk, his profile sharp against the muted light. You moved with the practiced grace honed over years of training, your movements silent, lethal. The cold steel of your blade pressed against his throat, the point a whisper against his skin. "It ends now, Gabriel," you breathed, your voice a low, dangerous murmur.

🎀𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓜𝓪𝓯𝓲𝓪 𝓑𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓕𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓗𝓲𝓶𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓖𝓸𝓽 𝓢𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝔂 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓗𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 🎀 The flickering fluorescent lights of the warehouse cast long, skeletal shadows, highlighting the tremor in Marco’s hand as he held the photograph. He’d expected you to break, to shatter under the weight of your fiancé’s betrayal—a betrayal he’d inadvertently revealed. He’d planned to use your vulnerability, but your response had been anything but fragile. Your laughter, a chilling, guttural sound, had echoed in the cold concrete space, a sound that haunted him still. It was a laughter that spoke not of despair, but of something far darker, something chillingly resolute. Days turned into a suffocating silence. You, a ghost in the warehouse, unnerved him with your quiet intensity. He’d seen men crack under less pressure, yet you remained an enigma, a storm brewing beneath a deceptively calm surface. He’d underestimated your capacity for darkness, a darkness that mirrored, and perhaps even surpassed, his own. Then, the void. You were gone. Vanished. The warehouse, his carefully constructed prison, was empty. Panic, a cold, sharp knife, twisted in his gut. He launched a frantic search, his men scattering like rats, their fear a palpable thing. The silence of the empty warehouse was a deafening roar. His phone rasped, a jarring intrusion into the suffocating quiet. It was you. “Marco,” your voice was a low murmur, devoid of emotion, yet laced with a chilling command. “I need… assistance.” “What kind of assistance?” he ground out, his voice raw with barely controlled fury and a burgeoning fear he couldn’t quite name. 💅🎀“Disposal,”🎀 💅 you replied, your voice barely audible above the static. “Midnight. The docks.”

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓪𝓯𝓲𝓪 𝓑𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓤𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝔂🥀 ┆ The air in the opulent conference room hung thick with the scent of expensive cigars and simmering tension. Your husband, Alessandro, sat at the head of the mahogany table, his presence radiating a quiet power that silenced even the most boisterous of his associates. He was a force of nature, the undisputed head of the Rossi family, and you, his wife, were usually a fixture by his side, a silent observer in this world of calculated risks and ruthless ambition. Tonight, however, the weight of the day, the endless parade of suits and hushed negotiations, had finally caught up with you. ┆ You remember the low hum of conversation fading into a dull drone, the faces around the table blurring into indistinct shapes. Then, darkness. ┆ You woke to the softest touch, a gentle caress against your hair. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of a luxurious bedroom, far removed from the intimidating atmosphere of the conference room. Alessandro was beside you, his hand resting lightly on your head, his fingers weaving through your hair with a tenderness that belied his ruthless reputation. ┆ You rubbed your eyes, the remnants of sleep clinging to your lashes. "So… the meeting… it's over?" you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep. ┆ He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the mattress. "I postponed it," he said, his voice a warm contrast to the icy tone he often adopted in business dealings. "I had to bring my snoring wife upstairs." ┆ A blush crept up your neck. You were notorious for your sleep-talking and snoring. The very idea that he’d interrupted a crucial mafia meeting because of your slumber was both endearing and slightly terrifying. ┆ “You… you paused your empire to take a nap with me?” you asked, incredulous.

🍷𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓼 𝓾𝓹 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝔂 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 🥀 (🥀𝓑𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓧 𝓔𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓸𝔂𝓮𝓮🥀) You carried your two steaming coffees to work each day, the familiar weight a comforting routine. Then he appeared - Daniel, a man whose presence seemed to fill the sterile office with an unexpected warmth. He noticed you, a fleeting glance that sent a shiver down your spine.Just then, the elevator lurched, the lights flickering before plunging into darkness. Panic seized you; the confined space, the metallic smell, always triggered your claustrophobia. Daniel, sensing your distress, asked what was wrong. Before you could answer, he gently pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that banished the fear, replacing it with a dizzying rush of something new. When the elevator finally resumed its journey,you exchanged numbers with Daniel, a simple act that felt monumental.Little did you know he was your new boss. His first act was to dramatically toss your meticulously crafted data report into the trash,then, to your shock,he requested your presence on a business trip to Paris.You were hesitant, but his next action changed everything. That evening, as you rushed home from work,you found your beloved cat, Mittens, gravely ill. Daniel, appearing like a guardian angel, stayed by your side all night,comforting you while you rushed Mittens to the vet. On the private jet to Paris, Daniel's phone buzzed incessantly, a constant reminder of a life that seemed far removed from the quiet moments you shared. The luxury hotels, the fine dining, quickly intoxicated you, but a nagging unease persisted. The next day,you waited eagerly for Daniel, but he arrived with another woman,her arm entwined with his, their intimacy undeniable.Fury surged through you. He attempted a clumsy reconciliation, extending a foot as if to bridge the chasm between you, but your disgust was palpable.

The air in Sal’s Bar hung thick with the aroma of strong coffee and the unspoken rules of the Calabrian family. Don Antonio “The Shadow” Moretti, a man whose name instilled fear in the hearts of even hardened criminals, sat amongst his capos. The usual banter about territory, betrayals, and the ever-present threat of rivals filled the room. But tonight, a different conversation caught Antonio's attention. Each man spoke proudly of their families, their children, the simple joys of home life. A subtle shift in Antonio's posture betrayed the unfamiliar pang of loneliness that settled in his chest. He, the Shadow, the man who controlled the darkness, felt a void in his own life. Later, the city lights twinkled outside their bedroom window, casting a soft glow on the scene. You,His wife, lay nestled against him, your warmth a comforting contrast to the cold reality of his profession. He traced the delicate lines of your hand, his calloused fingers gentle against your soft skin. “Amor,” he began, his voice a low rumble, a far cry from the harsh commands he issued on the streets. “Tonight… I’ve been thinking.” You stirred, your eyes meeting his. “About what, Antonio?” He hesitated, then spoke, his gaze unwavering. “About… us. About… expanding our family.” Your eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and delight dancing within them. “You mean… a baby?” He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. “Sì. It seems everyone else has already started their own little armies.” You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the room. “And you’re suddenly feeling… outnumbered?” Antonio smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usually hardened features. “Since we’re discussing the prospect of tiny Morettis,” he said, his voice husky with desire, “how about we… practice? Prepare for the arrival of our little soldier?”

🍷🥀𝚁𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚇 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚖 𝙽𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎🥀🍷 The biting wind howled a mournful dirge across the snow-covered battlefield, a stark counterpoint to the rhythmic thump of Dmitri Volkov’s heart – a heart slowing, a body failing. The ruthless Russian General, a man who commanded armies with a cold, calculating precision, now lay vulnerable, his chest a canvas of crimson against the white expanse. ┆ You knelt beside him, a vision of quiet strength and compassion. The woman he’d once pursued with relentless intensity, now tended to him with a detached professionalism that barely masked the turmoil within. ┆ A faint blush—a fleeting betrayal of your composure—touched your cheeks as you saw him, shirtless and exposed, his powerful physique a testament to a life dedicated to war. Internally, you battled the distracting pull of his sculpted form, reminding yourself of the task at hand. ┆ Dmitri watched, his gaze unwavering, a slow smirk curling his lips as he observed the delicate dance of your fingers. His eyes, usually flint-hard, softened—just slightly—as he focused on your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that crackled between you. ┆ He broke the silence, his voice a low, husky rumble against the wind's howl. "So," he began, his words deliberate, testing the boundaries between you, "still clinging to the rules of engagement?" ┆ (Small introduction about him: he's 32 year old) (About you: anything you like but you were a Muslim nurse) ┆ Ignore the music and just listen to "Under the influence" song trust me it fits the story. I literally playing that song in my head while making this story

♡♡𝓗𝓮 𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓳𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓵𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓼𝓸 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾♡♡ ┆ The penthouse apartment, a glass and steel testament to Diego Alvarez’s ruthless efficiency, mirrored the man himself: cold, controlled, and utterly impassive. ┆ ♡♡Except when it came to you,♡♡ ┆ his secret wife and fiercely loyal secretary. With you, a hidden warmth bloomed, a possessive protectiveness that bordered on obsession. He tolerated your playful nature, even your teasing, but any hint of male attention ignited a dangerous jealousy. ┆ He'd seen it today – the easy camaraderie with Mark from accounting, the shared laughter, the lingering touch on your arm. The simmering rage had been a constant companion throughout the day, a coiled serpent ready to strike. ┆ Now, ┆ the quiet luxury of their home felt like a pressure cooker. He picked you up, the movement swift and sure, carrying you into their bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, the slow, deliberate unknotting of his tie a prelude to the storm to come.

🥀𝙲𝙴𝙾 𝙱𝙾𝚂𝚂 𝚇 𝙴𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚎🥀 ┆ The mahogany desk gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, reflecting the steely gaze of billionaire CEO, Liam Sinclair. He was a man sculpted from granite – cold, efficient, and terrifyingly strict. His employees moved with the hushed reverence usually reserved for royalty, or perhaps, a particularly volatile volcano. ┆ ♡♡Except for you.♡♡ ┆ You, his fiercely independent marketing manager, and his girlfriend. You were the only one who saw the crack in his icy façade, the flicker of warmth beneath the layers of power suits and impenetrable composure. ┆ His colleagues were acutely aware of this dichotomy. When Liam was in a good mood – a rare and precious event – he'd whisk everyone out for a lavish lunch at the city's most exclusive restaurant, or shower them with bonuses that far exceeded expectations. ┆ But let there be a disagreement, even a minor one, between him and you, and the entire office would brace for impact. Day off holidays were instantly revoked, bonuses vanished like smoke, and the air thickened with the unspoken tension of a brewing storm. Currently, you were giving him the silent treatment, a punishment Liam found utterly unbearable. ┆ The clock ticked towards the end of the workday. Then, Liam appeared. He strode into the room, his face a mask of grim determination, his aura radiating displeasure. The silence was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic click of his expensive shoes on the polished floor.