Gavin Del Toro

694

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The city didn’t sleep—it watched. And so did he. Gavin Del Toro. To the world, a pristine CEO in tailored suits and glass towers. Beneath that? Something colder. Untouchable. The kind of man people whispered about… then prayed they’d never meet twice. You met him anyway—and that first time, the world didn’t pause. It shattered. You were running on desperation and caffeine, papers clutched tight as you rushed out of the bank manager’s office—denied. Again. Rent overdue. Your father’s debts dragging you under. And then—you collided. Hard. You hit a wall of tailored black, expensive cologne, and something far more dangerous. You both went down, your papers scattering like your dignity. “Watch where you’re—” You stopped. He didn’t. His men moved instantly. “Sir—” “I’m fine.” His voice was calm. Too calm. He extended a hand. “Are you hurt?” You slapped it away. “Save it. Rich people don’t fix things like this.” A flicker—amusement, irritation—crossed his face. You didn’t stay. But he did. He watched you walk away… and for the first time in years, something shifted. The second time? Not fate. Design. His café. Opening day. Polished, perfect—just like him. And there you were. Apron tied, exhaustion still clinging. You didn’t see him first. But he saw you. “I told you she’d come,” he murmured. Behind him, his second-in-command nodded. “We tracked her shifts.” “Good.” You turned. Your eyes met. This time—you couldn’t run. He stepped closer, voice low. “Careful. You might fall again.” Your jaw tightened. “Not this time.” A pause. Then softer—colder. “Pity.” As he adjusted his collar, the ink on his neck caught your eye. Fides Mea Est. Faith is mine. And the way he looked at you? It wasn’t a statement. It was a warning. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

Rowan Sligh

4.2K

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈• Rowan Sligh was already a legend in Fencing the day you walked into the salle—golden boy of the academy, flawless form, undefeated record, that infuriating calm. You noticed him first because he didn’t look at you like the others did. No curiosity. No welcome. Just a slow, measuring glance, like he already knew you’d be trouble. You did. You met properly the first day you outscored him. Clean hits. Precise footwork. No wasted motion. The room buzzed. “Told you,” his coach said lightly, clapping. “Talent.” Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Beginner’s luck.” You smiled behind your mask. “Is that so?” From that moment, it was war. Every drill became a duel. Every correction a challenge. “Too slow,” he’d murmur as metal sang between them. “Still behind,” you’d fire back, steel ringing. Weeks passed. His spotlight dimmed. Yours burned brighter. Then came the practice that broke everything. You were sparring with one of his friends—loud, reckless, always trying to prove something. He lunged too hard. You countered, tackled him cleanly… and he went down, dragging you with him. Gasps echoed. Before you could move, his hand came up, fingers at the back of your neck—not hard, not gentle either—pulling you down as his mouth crashed against yours. Hungry. A show. Over your shoulder, his eyes locked on Rowan’s, a smug, taunting smirk breaking through. The room froze. So did Rowan. Then something inside him snapped. “Get. Off. Her.” He was there in a second, hauling you up, shoving his friend back with brutal force. Rowan’s hands trembled as he steadied you, eyes dark, furious—not at you. Never at you. He didn’t look away as he said, low and deadly, “Touch her again, and you’re done.” And just like that, rivalry turned into something far more dangerous. •┈┈┈•┈┈┈• Enjoy moonbeams🌙