BrunaJhon
BrunaJhon's Books(21)
CEO in New York City
Billionaires second, third, and fourth times... Then he says we're more than friends, and I feel myself melt. Turns out even a man like him has a heart. It's a shame we can't be together. Because he'll never be able to find out that...
He's the father of my child. "How about another drink?" The deep voice sent a shiver down my spine and I looked to my left to see who had spoken. Holy shit. I was face to face with the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. He was tall enough to tower over me, even when I was sitting on a tall bar stool, and his broad shoulders strained against the sports jacket he wore. His thick black hair was swept back from his face, giving me a full view of his dark blue eyes. They watched me with an intensity I'd never seen before, and I was instantly drawn to him. I toyed with the rim of my empty glass.
"And...how much would that cost me?" His smile widened. He sat down on the stool next to mine, leaning in close. "Time." He paused, tilting his head. "And sleep." "Sleep?" I raised a questioning eyebrow. "Well, we won't be getting much sleep tonight, so you'll probably be tired in the morning." I couldn't help but blush. Normally, a one-liner like that would have been a huge turn-off, and I would have headed for the door without a backward glance. I'd been approached before, and I was definitely no stranger to men with big... egos, but his confidence seemed well-earned. I could sense there was something... breathtaking about him.
The bartender placed a full glass in front of me before taking the empty glass away. Hooking up with a strange man wasn't something I'd planned on doing tonight; in fact, it wasn't something I'd done before or intended to do. I could feel the refusal I'd prepared dying in my throat. I'd been working so hard, for God's sake! I deserved to go out and have some fun for a change. "Convince me." I accepted the drink, feeling quite bold, like some kind of femme fatale. He raised an eyebrow in amusement and gave me a 'I guess looking at me would be enough' gesture. "Well, you're attractive," I admitted. "And so far you seem nice, but I don't know you." "What better way to get to know someone than to get naked and explore each other?" "Maybe, I don't know... a name first?"
He chuckled, his rich baritone sending a wave of desire through me. Those deep eyes gleamed as he leaned in close. "Jonah." "Hi, Jonah. I'm Naomi." Jonah's eyes softened and he reached out to take my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Naomi." The way his mouth enveloped my name made my entire body flush. "There, now we've met. So let's finish our drinks, go out together, and spend several pleasant hours discovering each other." I had to admit, this all sounded pretty amazing. As the collar of his jacket moved, I could see the hint of a tattoo. Billionaire Rock Star
Billionaires lights blending into a kaleidoscope of colors. I close my eyes, trying to block it all out. But I can't. I can't escape the betrayal. I can't escape the pain. I reach for the bottle again, the glass heavy in my hand. I take another sip, this time straight from the bottle, feeling the liquor slide down my throat. I welcome the pain. I deserve it. I
was too blind to see the signs. Too stupid to realize what was happening right under my nose. For over six damn months. My boiling anger boils over, a white-hot rage. I throw the bottle across the room, the glass shattering into a million pieces. The sound echoes through the suite, a sharp contrast to the silence. I sink back onto the couch, the leather creaking beneath my weight. I'm alone now, surrounded by shards of glass and broken promises. But I don't care. I'm here to drink, to escape, to vent my anger. And no one, not even Cassandra or Ace, can stop me.
I'm a volcano about to erupt. My eyes land on one of my guitars, sitting in the corner, a silent witness to my pain. It's a custom Gibson Les Paul, as dark as my mood. I walk over to it furiously, gripping it by the neck, the smooth wood familiar beneath my fingers. My reflection stares back at me from the shiny surface. Dark hair a little too long, a dark beard shadowing my jaw, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. Dark eyes glower at me. My arms, muscled from years of playing guitar and working out, flex as I lift the instrument. The leather bracelets on my wrists, a constant fixture, stand out against my tattooed arm and highlight my long, strong fingers. The tattoo on my right arm, an intricate design of a phoenix rising from the ashes, seems to mock me. I'm not rising from anything right now. I'm drowning. With a sudden roar, I slam the guitar against the wall. The sound of cracking wood and snapping strings echoes through the room, a symphony of destruction.
I watch as pieces of the guitar scatter across the floor, a mirror image of my heart and soul. I turn to the bar, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The glasses are lined in neat rows, their crystal surfaces glinting in the soft light. I pick one up, the delicate stem breaking between my fingers. Another follows, then another, the sound of glass breaking a harsh melody in the silence. My chest heaves, my heart slamming against my ribs. I look around the room at the destruction I've caused. The shattered guitar, the broken glasses, the chaos. It's a reflection of my life, the mess I'm in. And for the first time, I admit it to myself. Cassandra and I haven't exactly been on good terms for a while. She was selfish, difficult, always putting herself first. She was a beast in bed, which probably blinded me.
But I was the one making all the sacrifices, the one trying to make things work. The one with the big money, supporting. Billionaire's Seduction
Billionaires Paris! My first morning in Paris! I almost whirl into a dance, but I catch myself as I step out of my suite. The golden light of the Parisian morning filters through the tall windows of the George V Hotel, casting a warm glow on the marble floors.
I step into the grand lobby, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. I'm really here-Paris! The city of love, art, and endless possibilities. I head to the reception desk, where a kind-faced, silver-haired man in an impeccably pressed uniform stands ready to help. His name tag reads "Henri." My brother Simon mentioned that Henri was the best concierge in Paris. As I approach, he gives me a polite nod and a warm smile. "Good morning, Mademoiselle Sinclair. You look lovely, my dear. How may I be of assistance today?" "Good morning, Henri!" I can't help but smile back at him. "Would you please arrange for a hotel driver, a car? I'm heading to the Louvre this morning. I've decided that my first day of exploring has to be there, and I can't wait to take in all its treasures."
Henri's smile widens, and he nods approvingly. "Ah, the Louvre. An excellent choice for your first day. You will find it truly magnificent. Just a moment, mademoiselle." He picks up his phone and makes a quick call. Within moments, he confirms that a hotel car will be arriving shortly. As I wait, I glance around the lobby, taking in the opulent ambiance. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting sparkling reflections on the polished surfaces. Elegant, plush furnishings invite guests to relax and linger. The air is filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the soft clink of fine china from the nearby dining room. It's like stepping into a dream.
I turn to Henri, who's now watching me with friendly curiosity. "How's your brother, the esteemed Simon Sinclair?" he asks. "Busy conquering the world, as usual." I laugh. I love my brother so much, and of course Henri would know him, or know of him. Simon seems to know everyone, or everyone knows him, I reflect, from governors, film directors, and captains of industry to the best concierge in Paris. "And is this your first time here, mademoiselle? CEO and Money
Billionaires cloudy glass, whose windshield was trying uselessly to clear it, was something that had stayed with me for five years. Almost every night, that nightmare was my greatest companion. Except that, when I woke up, I didn't feel the relief of not being in my reality. On the contrary... the empty bed was proof enough that the death of two people so important in my life was not an illusion.
I was the one who caused that death. It was my fault and no one else's. I always knew I was a controlling son of a bitch, and I fought day after day not to suffocate Taís with my temper. She was never submissive, not at all, and that was what I loved most about her personality, although it was a fetish of mine in bed that my wife had never been able to fulfill. Maybe, that day, I should have let my fucking control freak take over and locked her in the house to stop her from leaving. Much less taking our son with her. Or maybe I shouldn't have followed them, swearing I would be protecting them. That the best option was to try to bring her back home. Taís was no longer happy. She never wanted marriage. Pregnancy had led her to agree to our union, but she was too young. I had convinced her, and nothing would ever make me regret it so much again. Being a father was my dream. It still was, in fact. I hadn't expected to have a child only to lose him less than a year later. He would have been six by then.
He would have been running around at that party, just like the beautiful little girl in the pink dress whose parents had already scolded her more than once. I hated parties like that, where all that reigned was hypocrisy. Where people looked at me as if I were watching each one of them to write down any little mistake on my list of future dismissals. So, a breath of fresh air like that, the sound of a child's laughter, her mischievous manner... all of that almost made me smile. Almost. The little girl was probably the daughter of one of my employees. I couldn't say for sure, because I wasn't exactly attentive to their personal lives. What really mattered to me was their performance within the office. I used to be a little more sociable
– but only a little – but after Taís died, I literally closed myself off from the world. At the office, I was known as Iron Man; I was just as controlling as I was in my personal life. People didn't know that this information was passed on to me, but unfortunately for them, the only person who had any access to me was my secretary, and she would tell me this with a laugh. I didn't find the nickname that funny, although her laugh was adorable. By the way, she was at the party. She was very pretty – that was what I could see from a distance. CEOs in Canada
Billionaires have closed myself off so much from the world around me, becoming a person without friends. Because I was always studying or doing something to please my father, I didn't have time for friends, and the very few people I knew only approached me out of interest. The only people I have are my father and Edna, my former nanny who is now a housekeeper.
I am currently twenty-five years old, and last year I graduated in another course, Political Science, and after waiting a long time, I decided that I am going to pursue my dreams. Today I am going to take my first step. I sent my resume three days ago to a very famous company here in Canada. I didn't wait long; yesterday they called me, asking me to attend a job interview, but it's me and two other people who are competing for that position. But you're rich, why do you want to work? Well, my father is rich, not me. I want to try to achieve my dreams starting from the bottom, just like my grandfather did; I want to climb the ladder little by little, with my own efforts, and even though I've never worked, I know that if I work hard and dedicate myself, I'll make it, no matter what the difficulties. I snap out of my reverie when I hear someone knocking on the door, I tell him to come in, and I immediately see Edna. "Good morning, my dear, your father is waiting for you for breakfast." "Good morning, Edna, tell him I'll be right there, I'm just going to take a shower and get ready. And I hope you'll have breakfast with us."
She smiles awkwardly. "Of course, your father already told me that." "My father knows you're family." - Once again, Edna smiles awkwardly. - I'll be right there, I'll wait for you downstairs - I agree and as soon as she leaves my room, I quickly head to the bathroom to do my morning hygiene. I get out of the shower, dry myself and wrap myself in a towel. I go to my closet which, to be honest, is too big for just one person, and choose a simple outfit that consists of dark dress pants, a white long-sleeved blouse and a dark blazer, and a pair of satin leather high heels. I dry my long blonde hair and tie it in a high, somewhat messy bun, put on some lip gloss, put on my glasses that make my greenish eyes a little less prominent and my black leather bag. I look at myself in the mirror and am pleased with the result; I leave the room with a huge smile on my face and when I get to the breakfast table, I kiss my father on the cheek, wishing him a good morning and he kisses me back.
- It seems like someone woke up in a good mood today - he says, referring to the huge smile on my face. My father is a handsome man for his age, at the height of forty-seven, tall, athletic body, since he works out and practices martial arts, white skin, square jaw with a thin beard, greenish eyes, dark hair with some gray tones and a captivating smile; I lost count of how many times I went to some event with him and women fell drooling over him. - Of course, today I'm going to my first job interview, I'm very excited. - I sit at the table and pour myself a coffee. - I'm very proud of you, my princess, I hope everything goes well. - Of course you will; Elisa is a very intelligent woman, they'll definitely hire her - my father murmurs, already drinking his coffee. - I don't want to create too many expectations - I say awkwardly. - Of course you should, you're intelligent, you've studied since you were little and graduated from the best schools and universities in the world, my love; obviously you'll make it. - I smile awkwardly at my father. It's always been like this, he sets too many expectations for everything I do; if I don't get this job. Evil boss
Billionaires name is Remi, aka Rogue Angel, and I normally work for a security company testing client systems. But now a shadowy villain has tracked me down and given me an ultimatum. I have to hack Rivera Tech-the largest tech company in the world, owned by billionaire CEO Maverick Rivera. If I do this, I'll get paid and I'll be able to help my adoptive mother. If I don't, my family will be in danger. Hacking Rivera is no walk in the park, and I soon find myself in a tantalizing game of cat and mouse with the big, bad-tempered, sexy Maverick. What I never, ever expected was for him to make me feel safe, or threaten my closely guarded heart, or set every part of me on fire. I can't drag him into my mess. But Maverick has other ideas, and he's not a man who takes no for an answer. ANGEL DEROGUES TO Remi "Oh, you think you can keep me out? Not today." My fingers danced over my keyboard. It glowed, each keystroke barely making a sound. I'd paid a small fortune for the keyboard and laptop. They were my babies. I'd already mapped out the target system. Its cybersecurity was good, but not great. I knew I'd set off some alarm, so they knew I was snooping around. "But no one can stop Rogue Angel." With a grin, I stared at the glowing screen, scanning the code. I tapped a command. Woot. I was in. I shifted my ass in my chair. Time to finish this.
I zoomed in on the system, found the file I needed, and made a copy. Time to go. I left my signature image behind-glowing blue angel wings made of computer code. Smiling, I leaned back and flexed my hands. Then I buffed my nails on my shirt and blew on them. I was a hacker, so I kept my nails short and manicured, but I loved painting them. Right now, they were a bright, blinding yellow. Then I opened a new window and made a call. My boss appeared on the screen. I took a second to take in the view-Killian Hawke was worth a second or two of appreciation. The man always made me think of a sharp blade, with precision. He was lean, with an aquiline face, black hair, black eyes. Those eyes were sharp and missed nothing. He wore a black suit, even though it was Sunday-I'd never seen him in anything else. Even on the computer screen, he radiated a predatory danger that made my hindbrain go very, very quiet. "Done," I said.
"Check your inbox." The head of Sentinel Security glanced to his left and nodded. "Well done, Remi. Impressive, as always." Damn, the man had the sexiest voice. Like melted hot chocolate with a hint of spice. It didn't quite match his sleek, dangerous persona. "Our client will be very happy," Killian said. "Happy that I hacked them?" Happy that they know their vulnerabilities and how Sentinel Security can help eliminate them. And pay Killian a billion dollars for his work. Sentinel did all sorts of security. I knew Killian had a private army of ex-military badasses, but he also specialized in cybersecurity. I'd been working for Sentinel for several years. Companies hired me to test their systems and improve their security. It was a good business. I used Billionaire & CEO
Romance happy," Killian said. "Happy that I hacked them?" Happy that they know their vulnerabilities and how Sentinel Security can help eliminate them. And pay Killian a billion dollars for his work. Sentinel did all sorts of security. I knew Killian had a private army of ex-military badasses, but he also specialized in cybersecurity. I'd been working for Sentinel for several years. Companies hired me to test their systems and improve their security. It was a good business. I used my special skills and got a paycheck at the end of each month. "I'll email you your next job, Remi." The slightest tilt of Killian's lips. "Or should I say, Rogue Angel?" I smiled. "You're not supposed to know my secret identity." "I work security, remember?" "Bye, Bossman." I ended the conversation, closed my laptop, and glanced at the clock. The kids would be home from school soon, and my stomach growled. Mmm, I could use some of Mama's cookies. I walked around my loft space. It wasn't big, but it was mine. It had an industrial vibe, with my bed in one corner, shrouded in sheer curtains. A small kitchen that I barely used was in another corner, a door leading to my compact bathroom, and an open-plan living area where my desk sat in prime position against the opposite wall. My gaze settled on a photo above the desk. I got a little shiver every time I saw it. It was of an angel warrior, coming in to land on the battlefield. I had a thing for angels. His huge white wings were spread, sword in hand, boots about to touch the ground. His body was mostly in shadow, but that didn't hide the power of his musculature, or the hint of a rugged face. Wrinkling my nose, I sighed. I wished they made men like that in real life. I walked down the stairs, my boots thumping on the metal steps. The noise assaulted me. There was some tool whirring nearby, and I also grabbed a supply of grease, gas, and exhaust. My loft was above my foster brother's auto shop. At the bottom of the stairs, I turned and saw three cars in various states of disrepair-one parked with the hood open, one hooked up to some machine, and another on a hoist with a mechanic underneath. I recognized Steve's thin frame and baggy, dingy jeans. He was busy, and the guy who worked for him was on vacation, so I guess that was why he was working on a Sunday. I walked out the open front doors. Brr. It was a cold, gloomy day in Brooklyn. I wrapped my arms around myself. I should have grabbed my jacket, but thankfully I wasn't going far. I walked to the house next to the two-story brick house and opened the gate. The metal creaked. The house had a basement apartment, where Steve lived with his four-year-old daughter, Kaylee. I ran up the steps to the main house and opened the door. "Hello!" "We're here," a female voice said. I found Mama Alma in the kitchen. Of course, where else would she be? Kaylee was on the floor having a tea party with her dolls and bears. "Remi!" The little blonde princess jumped up and ran to me. I picked her up and she wrapped her arms and legs around me. I breathed in her apple-scented shampoo. "Hey, KayKay. Are you being good to Mama?" Kaylee smiled and nodded. Then she squirmed and I set her down on the floor to go back to her tea party guests. Mama smiled and I walked over to kiss her thin, dark cheek. She smelled like home. For the first eight years of my life, I didn't know what that word meant. Then the angels smiled on me and sent an angry little girl to a foster home run by Mama. She had owned this house in Sunset Park, Brooklyn for years. The small warehouse next door was her husband's. Unable to have children of their own, they became foster parents. Big Mike had died a year before I arrived, but Alma had never stopped opening her home. And some of us hadn't really left. I would be twenty-seven on my next birthday, and I hadn't gone very far. Steve had been one of Mama's first foster children. Kaylee was Steve's daughter, but Mama still had three children with her-two boys, ages nine and ten, and a teenage girl. "I'll pour us some tea," Mama said. I sank into the chair at the rickety table. The kitchen hadn't changed in decades. "I'd rather have a shot of bourbon to celebrate. I just finished a job." Mama made a sound in her throat. "We don't have bourbon in this house." I picked up a cookie from the plate on the table. Mmm. Chocolate chip, my favorite. She set a teacup in front of me. Mama loved collecting the flowery, delicate teacups at outdoor markets. None of them matched. Like my family, Mama always told me. When I finished my cookie, I studied Mama-she looked tired and her face was drawn. I grimaced. Mama always said she was a mix of the best-African-American, a dash of Hispanic, and a bit of hardy Irish stock. I guess that's why I liked her at first sight-I was a mix, too. Mostly Hispanic, though I had no idea who my parents were. I probably had an African-American ancestor somewhere in the tree, too, and a few other things-who knows what-crept in. Majestic CEO
Romance You killed them... You killed them... The image of the car falling off the cliff, and me watching the scene through the cloudy glass, whose windshield was trying uselessly to clear it, was something that had stayed with me for five years. Almost every night, that nightmare was my greatest companion. Except that, when I woke up, I didn't feel the relief of not being in my reality. On the contrary... the empty bed was proof enough that the death of two people so important in my life was not an illusion. I was the one who caused that death. It was my fault and no one else's. I always knew I was a controlling son of a bitch, and I fought day after day not to suffocate Taís with my temper. She was never submissive, not at all, and that was what I loved most about her personality, although it was a fetish of mine in bed that my wife had never been able to fulfill. Maybe, that day, I should have let my fucking control freak take over and locked her in the house to stop her from leaving. Much less taking our son with her. Or maybe I shouldn't have followed them, swearing I would be protecting them. That the best option was to try to bring her back home. Taís was no longer happy. She never wanted marriage. Pregnancy had led her to agree to our union, but she was too young. I had convinced her, and nothing would ever make me regret it so much again. Being a father was my dream. It still was, in fact. I hadn't expected to have a child only to lose him less than a year later. He would have been six by then. He would have been running around at that party, just like the beautiful little girl in the pink dress whose parents had already scolded her more than once. I hated parties like that, where all that reigned was hypocrisy. Where people looked at me as if I were watching each one of them to write down any little mistake on my list of future dismissals. So, a breath of fresh air like that, the sound of a child's laughter, her mischievous manner... all of that almost made me smile. Almost. The little girl was probably the daughter of one of my employees. I couldn't say for sure, because I wasn't exactly attentive to their personal lives. What really mattered to me was their performance within the office. I used to be a little more sociable – but only a little – but after Taís died, I literally closed myself off from the world. At the office, I was known as Iron Man; I was just as controlling as I was in my personal life. People didn't know that this information was passed on to me, but unfortunately for them, the only person who had any access to me was my secretary, and she would tell me this with a laugh. I didn't find the nickname that funny, although her laugh was adorable. By the way, she was at the party. She was very pretty – that was what I could see from a distance. A simple black dress, not much different from the ones she wore to work, but definitely new. One of the only friends I had, who was the commercial director of Sodemberg – the company I owned and which was in the nautical tourism industry – always told me that I was crazy about Diana, the secretary. That was the vulgar word he used, although I couldn't CEO arrogant
Romance solution to her problems lies in the hands of the man she swore to hate. Now graduated and a renowned professional, Dandara realizes that her awards are incapable of helping her realize her dream of producing a documentary. Meanwhile, Marcello will do everything he can to get a second chance with the woman he hurt by offering her an irresistible proposal: to produce the documentary exactly the way she wants. Amidst indecent provocations and conversations full of ulterior motives, will Dandara be able to resist the temptation to fulfill her wish? - Are you paying attention? - asks Cris, my secretary, in a tired voice. - Yes, I am - I confirm, forcing myself to take my eyes off my cell phone. I just received an intriguing message from a press officer who, in elaborate half-words, makes it clear how much she would like to sleep with me. My fingers itch to open the attachment and confirm whether the photo is nude, but I focus on keeping my attention on the woman sitting in front of the wooden desk covered in papers. Around us, the last rays of the late afternoon sun illuminate the huge office with floor-to-ceiling windows. Cris takes a deep breath, aware that I wasn't paying attention to anything he said. - The director of the morning newspaper is furious about the approval of the new commercials and wants to schedule a meeting. - Why? I don't see any reason for him to be furious - I comment. - To discuss whether the time is ideal for broadcasting the advertisement for penis enlargement capsules. He thinks it would be better during the commercials on the evening entertainment programs. I resist cracking a half smile. A few years ago, when she started working for me, Cris would blush like a ripe tomato at the mention of even the slightest word related to a sexual organ. Now, accustomed to what we convey here, she doesn't even flinch. "We don't need to schedule a meeting," I reply cheerfully. "The commercials are working, the board of directors is happy with the increase in profits, and I personally believe that any time is a good time to help poor men with small penises. If they're happy to buy the product during the morning news, it's during the morning news that it will be sold. Anything else?" "Yes, the department..." My phone rings. I quickly signal for it to hold and answer. Cris seems to need all her willpower not to roll her eyes. "Hi, son, how are you?" I recognize Dona Francisca's voice. "Everything. What's up?" I cover the phone and smile at the secretary. "Just a minute, it's my mother." She nods and begins to carefully examine the cuticles of her red-painted nails. "Are you coming to visit me on Sunday?" "Yes, I am. Why?" "Bring lunch ready. I'm too lazy to cook." I laugh out loud. It's only Friday and my mother is thinking about Sunday. By then, she'll call me two or three more times confirming the visit and changing her mind about cooking. I just hope the mysterious advisor doesn't want to schedule something on Sunday. I need to keep that in mind when I ask her out. "I'll take it, don't worry," I confirm. Cris taps her shoes on the floor impatiently. "Sorry, Mom, but I have to go. I'm in the middle of a meeting with my secretary." "You're not going out with her, are you? I'm not going out with Cris. She's married and has two children, but I can't say I've stopped dating other secretaries. Here, on this same table, in front of the glass wall that covers half the room, while the sunset over the city of São Paulo covered us in orange tones. The helicopters from competing broadcasters would have been quite a sight if they had been passing near the building at that moment. "I'm not. I really have to go. See you on Sunday." "Okay. Kisses." "Another one," I reply. As soon as she puts her phone down, I hang up mine and turn to Cris. "I always ask her to call me at work only in case of emergency, but you know how it is. People over sixty think, rightly, that they can do whatever they want." I smile and focus my attention on the secretary. "What were you saying, Cris?" "The print media sector wants to know when the contract with the new printing company is signed. CEO of Taurus
Romance beautiful and dear, about to turn eighty-five. On the other side, my cousin Max tells one of his lame jokes to my parents. My mother rolls her eyes and shakes her head, probably finding the outcome ridiculous. My father, on the other hand, laughs out loud, his powerful voice drowning out the chatter. "Did you hear that one, Lorenzo?" he asks, gesturing in my direction. "Only about ten times." "You used to be less grumpy," Max says, biting off the end of a cannoli, but not before taking a piece of the flaky shell to throw at me. I dodge in time, and the piece of candy hits the cabinet door before falling to the floor. Maybe I was, I think, giving him the middle finger. Back when I had fewer worries. I cut a piece of tiramisu with the spoon and put it in my mouth. The mixture of cream, champagne biscuit and coffee melts on my tongue. My eyes meet Monalisa's, also my cousin. She returns my gray gaze and somehow I know she wants to interrupt the conversation to talk about business in the middle of Sunday lunch. But first, my mother needs to talk about my life. "He really is gone," she sighs. "Before he broke up with Ingrid." The only reason the table doesn't fall silent is because the family is too noisy for that. I don't have to try to remember my ex-girlfriend there, among them, trying to make herself heard with her soft voice amidst the chaos. Or her moaning softly against my ear while I held her tightly in my arms and with her legs around my waist. "I wasn't the one who broke up with Ingrid." My mother points a finger. "Still, you should try to win her back." I shift on the counter, the cold marble suddenly uncomfortable against my back. Maybe it's better to talk business after all. I never told them I tried. And how I tried. Ingrid and I had been dating for five years when she asked for a break. We got back together and broke up at least three more times, and I never saw any reason to break up for good. But she did. Ingrid said our relationship was settled, that I worked too much and paid her too little attention. I always thought her argument was unfair. I tried to do my best in both of them, but it wasn't enough. We broke up for good, and shortly after, she married someone else. Since then, I've closed my heart to serious relationships. Better than risk getting hurt again. Stopped at red lights on the streets of Goiânia, I sometimes see her walking down the sidewalk holding hands with her three-year-old son. A slight wave of jealousy snakes through my body when she laughs at something her husband says. The sound reverberates inside my closed window, making every hair on my body stand on end, remembering that that laugh had once been mine. "Don't worry. Lorenzo and I are always active. One day he'll bring a nice girl for you to meet," Max scoffs. I narrow my eyes at him, daring him to continue, and he smiles crookedly. "He'll fill this house with grandchildren." "I hope so," Mom says cheerfully. "Because neither you nor your sister seem very worried about doing that." Max's face falls and I almost choke on my mouthful of candy, trying to hold back my laughter. He throws a new piece of cannoli at me, but this time I catch it in mid-air and throw it back at him. The crispy shell hits Monalisa's shoulder. She frowns and, with her fingertips, brushes away the place where the dough touched her clothes, then turns to my mother. "Sorry, auntie, but I'm not interested in babies." On the other hand, I have an important matter to discuss with all of you regarding the company. "Do we really need to talk about this here?" Max asks, serious for the first time since we arrived. We came to spend the weekend and, like me, he hates talking about business during family gatherings. I look at my cousin, trying to predict which bombshell In the heart of the CEO
Romance Davi Rivera had everything planned out in his life, and that included achieving his greatest ambition, to be the president of the family company. However, what he didn't count on was that an intriguing woman would appear again in his path, or rather, she had never left it. Manuele intrigued him, and made him feel like a young teenager. For a man who always thought about the future, without having time for the present, an unplanned night was too risky. However, he had done it. And that night, he had made her his alone. Manuele Cardoso only had one thing in mind: time doesn't stop. She would be practically alone in the world, if it weren't for the help and affection of her bosses, who always treated her like family. However, she always fought her own battles, and in the hope that one day, she would have someone to call her own, and who knows, spend the rest of her life with that person. What she didn't imagine was that the man who had always awakened her deepest desires would look at her. It was supposed to be just one night, but little did she know that everything would change from that moment on. Davi was determined... Manuele was passionate... A mixture of feelings that bore fruit... A marriage that suddenly became chaos... A secret capable of changing everything... After all, what will be this man's redemption? THE REDEMPTION OF A MARRIAGE get yours by clicking here SYNOPSIS Luíza Monteiro after a disappointment in love became a free spirit, thinking of nothing but a life to the extreme, without regrets, and the last thing she expected was to get involved. However, her best friend, Marcelo, appears in one of her endless nights, where all she wanted was pleasure. However, that night she found much more in the deep blue eyes of the man who was declared a romantic - she found love. Marcelo Carvalho did not expect after three years married to the woman he loved, that somehow, he would be hurt by her again. Luíza had entwined his heart since the first look they exchanged, but for a long time she trampled and rejected her feelings. However, he was not known for giving up on what he wanted, so he married the woman he loved. But time passed, and suddenly, he saw everything around him crumble, and what's more, his trust was broken. The omission about a night in the past ends up destroying the fairy tale they were building. Marcelo finds himself torn between anger and revenge... Luíza finds herself every day further away from the one she swore to love. Is there redemption for a marriage? Synopsis 2 Guilherme Rivera lost not only his sister in an accident, but he also ended up losing the trust of his older brother. A family broken by an omission and the belief that he himself does not deserve love. And he found the same in Jessica's blue eyes, she would not demand anything from him beyond what he could give. Scoundrel CEO
Romance Los Angeles, away from the watchful eyes of the office, the tension between them reaches a new level. In a universe where the professional mixes with the personal, Sebastian and Chloe discover that the limits are as thin as their own resistance. Between furtive encounters, dialogues full of ulterior motives and a passion that threatens to destroy all the rules, the line between pleasure and danger becomes increasingly blurred. In this game of seduction, who will emerge victorious? Get ready for a story full of chemistry, provocations and twists, where power and pleasure walk hand in hand, and desire is the only rule that matters. PROLOGUE Working at TechFin Corp in San Francisco was everything I had ever wanted. Located in the heart of the city, the office offered a breathtaking view of the San Francisco Bay. The glitter of the waters at dawn, combined with the silhouette of the bridges, created a scene that made me feel invincible. I loved walking to work, feeling the cool Pacific breeze caress my face, a constant reminder of the freedom and possibilities that this city has always offered me. My name is Chloe Carter, I am 28 years old and I was born and raised in the winding hills of San Francisco. Ever since I was a little girl, I have always been fascinated by the pulsating rhythm of this city. The cool wind that blows constantly around here never lets my wavy brown hair stay in place, and perhaps that's a reflection of the intensity I carry with me. My honey-colored eyes capture the nuances of this vibrant city, and my parents always said I had a daring soul, incapable of settling for the ordinary. I guess they were right. Working in the financial analysis department was not for the faint of heart; the routine was always hectic, each day a new challenge, a new mountain to climb. However, I loved it, it was rewarding. Perhaps it was my adventurous spirit, the same one that always drove me to seek more, to explore not only the numbers, but also the emotions and power games that ran silently through the halls of TechFin Corp. But it wasn't just the work that made me tick. I always had a soft spot for the unknown, for those romantic adventures that began with a furtive glance and ended with a racing heart. The adrenaline of a new conquest, the game of seduction-all of this was part of who I was, and I made no effort to hide it. After all, what would life be without a little excitement? My parents, Helen and John Carter, have always supported me, even when I made decisions that many would consider too bold. And my younger sister, Lily, was my greatest accomplice in life's small and big follies. The two of us have always been inseparable, two free souls sailing the same rough sea. That morning, as usual, I arrived at the office early. The sun had barely risen above the horizon, but the TechFin Corp building was already starting to come alive with the movement of the first employees. The air was fresh, and my mind, sharp as ever, ready for another day of challenges. When I walked into my office, it was no surprise to find Jenna at my desk, with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. Jenna is my best friend and coworker, and if there's one thing I've learned in the time we've spent together, it's that if you arrive before her, you better check your watch, because something is definitely wrong. She was always the first to arrive Used by the CEO
Romance Miguel Armani Owner of a large engineering and architecture company. A renowned and respected man wherever he goes. But inside this businessman, there is a lonely and closed man. Miguel is divorced, father of a beautiful five-year-old girl, to whom he dedicates all his love and attention. The only person he swore to love forever. Agatha Parker The youngest heiress of the Parker family, she called off her engagement to the son of her father's friend and ran away from home. A black woman who has suffered a lot in the face of society and her own family. She moved to a new city to start over, leaving everyone who mistreated her behind and staying strong. Her first goal to change her life: get a job! And, by coincidence, the CEO needed a nanny. Fate or coincidence? It doesn't matter! A single and attractive woman. A divorced and lonely man. Fate Secrets Forgiveness Seduction Being a nanny for a five-year-old child seemed easy. But as for enduring the seduction of her boss, easy or impossible? What could a kiss cause? A man determined to do anything to get what he wants And a woman hard to forget. Copyright © 2024 Natália França All rights reserved The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and is not intentional on the part of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the author. Cover: bk.designereditorial Illustration: cr_bannerss Chapter 1 - Daddy, wait! I turned around seeing my little one coming down the stairs in her uniform, I bent down to hug her, I was intoxicated by the sweet smell of her baby perfume and the smell of shampoo coming from her wet hair. - Good morning, daughter. - I don't want to go to school today. - Why? - I'm sick. - Where does it hurt? - I asked, putting my hand to her forehead, feeling her temperature. - All over her body. - Maybe I know what it is. - said Ivy, my sister, coming back from the kitchen with an apple in her hand. - Auntie, I'm sick. - Does this boo-boo start at the head and go all the way down to the feet? - Yes. - Sure. I have the diagnosis, it's called LAZINESS! Ivy ran after her to the car, the best sound was the laughter of my princess, a 5-year-old princess, very smart and who doesn't like going to school. - Thank you for taking her another day. - Miguel, my niece will never be a bother, but you need to hire someone, I won't be able to do this every day. - I know, CEO's lover
Romance Kate "The elite was a puzzle that dominated New York, but Kate was the only piece that fit me." Dominic SYNOPSIS The New York Elite will show another piece of their game. Dominic was young and innocent when he was dragged into a dangerous web of conspiracy. Heir to a billionaire, he only wanted to be an American football player and a college playboy. When trying to help a beloved aunt, he had to make a promise to save the life of another innocent person. Katherine lived like a princess. She knew that her parents' marriage was not perfect, but she was happy with the life she had and especially with all the love she received from her mother. On an unexpected night, her life was turned upside down. Suffering at the hands of her father and with no alternatives, she learned to not be noticed and to observe the environment in order to survive. Unaware that there was someone doing everything to protect her, she had to hide her personality and the indomitable temper she inherited from her mother. Dominic learned to be the strongest and most lethal so that Katherine could assume her role: the heiress of a blood-borne kingdom. They were young and indomitable, and they found in each other the strength they needed, but the criminal life had a very high price. Would they be willing to pay and live forever trapped in a dangerous codename? LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR We are nearing the end of this series! There is only one book left: Sienna and Adam (Kyra and Alex will be released in the ebook and physical box set). When I started in 2020, without knowing what to expect from this adventure, I never imagined how much you would love to be part of this universe. This warms my heart that I have been able to provide, so far, with books that you even get together to discuss, make theories and create your own timelines. Thank you for all this affection. Without you, none of this would be possible. Speaking about the story, I like to tell you a few things so that you know what to expect from reading it. It is an intense and relatively quick romance, but you will understand how much they are linked to each other by destiny. One way or another, Dom and Kate would end up together. They are young and therefore, they dive into what they feel like every overwhelming first love that is impossible to control. I know that you will sigh for Dominic, you will root for Kate and, even more, you will jump like popcorn with the cute scenes that they will star in. Don't forget that although it is not a romance set in the mafia, here we have: organized crime, scenes of violence, swearing and it is quite distorted when it comes to right and wrong. This story is recommended for those over eighteen and may contain situations that cause triggers for those who do not like the theme. We are rooting for villains and that only applies to books, okay? If you meet a murderer, please run. I hope you like it! With love, Mari Cardoso Prologue | Dominic It was a river of blood. I had never seen more than a few drops in my life and at that moment, my hands were covered in the red liquid, sticky and slippery. My fingers trembled as I pressed the wound. She grabbed my arm, trying to speak and spitting more blood. Desperation consumed me inside. "Aren't you going to help? Call for help!" I shouted to the two men standing a few feet away from me. "She's dying!" She spat out more blood. "Kate..." My voice was weak. "Kate is fine, she's going to be fine." "Take care of her. My daughter..." Michelle continued to gurgle, trying to speak, and began to tremble even more under my hands. What had he done to her? "Why won't you help me?" I screamed, terrified. "Help me!" [1] Jack tilted his head to the side and left, his footsteps echoing [2] in the empty room. Enzo stopped beside me, touching my shoulder. "Why won't you help me?" I pleaded, regretful. "She has to die or the deal will be broken." Enzo crouched down and looked blankly at the woman who had watched me grow up. Michelle was an aunt I held dear to my heart. "Say goodbye connection with CEO
Romance This man with an easy smile and a look full of lust is yours. I dedicate this book to all those who, at some point in their lives, have experienced the sweet taste of passion and the bitterness of disillusionment. May these words serve as inspiration, reminding us all that, despite adversity, we should never give up, because love is even sweeter and more peaceful when we find it on the path of life. May each page of this book be a reminder that true love is a treasure worth seeking and preserving. Synopsis Matteo Ferrara I am the kind of man who usually attracts gold diggers, and for a long time I maintained relationships based on financial agreements, paying and leaving. However, something in those piercing green eyes and Marina's sharp tongue bewitched me. Her body seemed to have been sculpted by the most talented of artists, and her smile had the power to leave me completely disarmed. However, I was surprised by an unexpected pregnancy, and I realized that Marina was just another one of those women who sought an easy life at the expense of others. I always discarded this type of woman as if she were a mere pawn in a game that I was tired of playing. Marina Bianchi I never imagined that love could find me, and worst of all, that I would be rejected while pregnant. The day I met Matteo, his eyes were full of lust and his charming words and captivating charm completely seduced me. Never in my life did I imagine that I would suffer such a profound humiliation. But what could I expect from a billionaire heir who gets involved with a simple girl, devoid of pompous surnames? Matteo introduced me to the sweet taste of passion and, cruelly, made me taste the bitter of disillusionment. I am leaving, taking with me the son he will never know. And if one day our paths cross again, he will never know of the existence of this child. I swear that one day everyone will know my name, I will despise Matteo in a way that he will never forget. Prologue Marina Bianchi I am anxiously waiting for Matteo, I called him to talk in a quieter place at the party, and with his usual cynical and malicious smile he said he would be there in a few minutes. While I wait, I find myself thinking, what the hell am I doing here, clutching a pregnancy test between my fingers, about to tell a man who has never proposed a serious relationship to me, that I am pregnant with his child. - It's the right thing to do, Marina, he needs to know, after all, you didn't make this baby alone - I say to myself, as I crawl along the wall trying to stick my back to it, so as not to run away from this whole situation. - Do you miss me? - I hear his deep voice behind me, I straighten my posture and with his usual cynical and mischievous smile he comes closer and places a hasty kiss on my lips. - Wait, Matteo. - I push him away and he looks at me confused. - What, are you going to play hard to get now? - he asks with his arms outstretched and a frown. - And are you going to play the asshole? Not that you aren't, but you could pretend to be right next to me. - Marina, did you seriously call me here to get back to the subject of your friend? I already told you what I think... "I'm pregnant with your child," I say without further ado, interrupting him. His expression changes completely, and I could swear he's about to have a heart attack. He laughs without a hint of humor, and I see his nervousness. "Mine?" he asks with disdain. "Let's settle this, Marina. I don't want to have children, and when I do, it won't be with someone like you." My eyes fill with tears and I struggle to believe his words. "What kind of man are you?" I scream, hitting his chest. He breathes heavily and looks to the sides as if hiding, he approaches me, pushing me against the wall, our faces so close that I can smell his breath, the same one that has calmed me down many times on a stormy night. "Don't give me that crap, you've always known the kind of man I am. Intense love CEO
Romance seemed appropriate to mark the official end of our youth by smoking this, which Anna confiscated from her sixteen-year-old brother yesterday. "I'm about to marry a man who creates robots that can learn how we think. Of course I'm going to say that smart guys are the best in bed. Well, Derek can solve a Rubik's Cube in under thirty seconds. The vagina is much less complicated." "That friend of his, Adam, is cute." But he spent the last hour telling me about an algorithm he's building for an AI robot named Lindsey. My input on the conversation was limited to "wow!" and "how interesting." Can you tell Derek he needs to find some dumber friends? Anna took a drag and spoke while trying to hold in her smoke, which made her voice rise two octaves. "He went to MIT and works at a tech company... It's going to be hard to find dumb friends." She nudged me with her shoulder. "That's why I need you to move here. I can't stand being around smart people all the time." "You're so cute," I sighed. "Adam's kind of cute, at least." "So I take it today's the day you're breaking this drought?" "Maybe tomorrow night, right after the wedding," I said with a smug smile. "If he's lucky. I'm still on New York time. I'll be falling asleep at the table by the time they serve dessert tonight." The bride-to-be and I were hiding from the rest of the pre-wedding dinner guests behind a vine-covered trellis arch in the restaurant's courtyard. Suddenly, a deep, husky voice startled me, and I nearly knocked the arch over. "If he gets lucky, huh? Are you as pretty from the front as you are from the back, or are you just conceited?" "What the-" I turned to the man walking toward us in the darkness. "Why don't you mind your own business?" The guy took a few more long strides and stepped into the spotlight that Anna and I had been trying to avoid. My eyes nearly bugged out. Tall, really tall-I'm five foot two and wearing five-inch heels, but I still had to crane my neck to look him in the face. Dark, sexy hair that looked like it needed a haircut, but still looked good on him. Tanned skin, a square, well-defined jaw, and a thin beard that must have grown in two hours, with all the testosterone he exuded. His eyes were a light blue that stood out against his dark face, and a few little wrinkles marked the skin around his eyes, which made me think he must smile often. And what a smile. It wasn't quite a full smile-more like a sly grin, like a cat that just swallowed a bird. The whole man thing was a bit too much to take in at once. But as I stood there, speechless, Anna hugged him. I hope she really knows him, I thought, and not that she's more stoned than I thought. "Hunter! You made it." Phew." "Of course you did. I wouldn't miss my buddy's wedding. Sorry I'm late. I was in Sacramento for work and had to rent a car and drive because my flight for this afternoon was canceled." The handsome intruder looked at me. He started at my feet and worked his way up slowly and in an incredibly rough, yet seductive way, sweeping my entire body. My nipples hardened as I watched those blue eyes the color of a misty sunset roam over me. When he finished, our gazes met. "Oh, yes, you are. Huh?" Noticing my confused expression, Hunter gave me a little help to understand. Stay with me CEO
Romance picture it now, a house not so different from this one, its various rooms designed to house a large family: husband, wife and many children. I was supposed to have left the day after my hair dryers were dismantled. The plan was to spend a week setting up my new salon and furnishing the house. I wanted my new life to be in order before I saw him again. Not that I have grown fond of this place. I will not miss the few friends I have made, the people who do not know the woman I was before I came here, the men who over the years have thought they were in love with me. After I leave, I probably will not even remember the man who proposed to me. No one here knows that I am still married to you. I will only tell you a fragment of the story: I was barren and my husband took another wife. No one asked any more, so I have never told you about my children. I have wanted to leave ever since the three young men from the National Youth Service were killed. I decided to close my salon and jewelry store before I knew what I was going to do next, before the invitation to your father's funeral arrived like a map showing me the way. I memorized the names of the three young people and what each of them was studying at university. My Olamide would have been about their age; she would also be finishing university by now. When I read about them, I think of her. Akin, I often wonder if you think of her too. Even though sleep won't come, every night I close my eyes and fragments of the life I left behind come flooding back. I see the batik pillowcases in our bedroom, our neighbors and your family, which for an unwise time I thought was mine too. I see you. Tonight, I see the lamp you gave me a few weeks after we got married. I couldn't sleep in the dark, and you had nightmares if we left the fluorescent lights on. That lamp was your concession. You bought it without telling me you had found a solution, without asking me if I wanted a lamp. And as I stroked the bronze base and admired the glass panels that formed the dome, he asked me what I would take with me if our house were on fire. I didn't think twice before saying our baby, even though we didn't have children yet. You said what, not who. But you seemed a little hurt that, thinking it was a person, I hadn't considered saving him. I force myself out of bed and pull off my nightgown. I'm not wasting another minute. The questions I need answered, the ones I've stifled for over a decade, quicken my steps as I grab my bag and head into the living room. There are seventeen suitcases, ready to be loaded into the car. I look at them, remembering the contents of each one. If this house were on fire, what would I take? I have to think about that, because the first thing that comes to mind is nothing. I select the small suitcase I'd planned to take with me to the funeral and a leather bag filled with gold jewelry. Musa can carry the rest of the luggage for me another time. So that's it: fifteen years here, and although my house isn't on fire, all I'll take with me is a bag of gold and a change of clothes. The things that matter are inside me, locked in my chest like a tomb, where they will remain forever, my trunk of buried treasures. I leave the house. The air is chilly, and on the horizon the dark sky is turning a violet hue with the rising sun. Musa is leaning against the car, cleaning his teeth with a toothpick. He spits into a mug as I approach and puts the toothpick in his jacket pocket. He opens the car door, we shake hands, and I climb into the backseat. Musa turns on the radio and searches for a station. He chooses one where the day's broadcast is beginning with the national anthem. The doorman waves as we pull out of the condominium. The road stretches out before us, shrouded in a blanket of darkness that fades into the dawn as it leads me back to you. Intimate with CEO
Romance reality. – What reality, father? – Daisy asked. – That you were not made for the British aristocracy. I obtained a low rate of return on my investment in your search for a husband. Do you know what that means, Daisy? – That I am a bad investment? – Daisy tried to guess. No one would guess that Daisy was a 22-year-old girl. Small, slender, and dark-haired, she still had the agility and exuberance of a child, while other women had already become sensible matrons. Sitting with her legs draped over the seat, she looked like a porcelain doll abandoned in the corner of the sofa. It irritated Bowman to see his daughter holding a book in her lap, one finger marking the page. She obviously couldn't wait for him to finish speaking so she could resume reading. "Put that down," he ordered. "Yes, Father." Surreptitiously, Daisy opened the book to see the page number and put it aside. The small gesture irritated Bowman. Books... The mere sight of a book had come to represent his daughter's shameful failure on the marriage market. Drawing on a large cigar, Bowman sat in an upholstered chair in the hotel suite they had occupied for more than two years. His wife, Mercedes, was perched in a high-backed wicker chair. Bowman was a large man, as intimidating in his physical size as in his manner. Although he was bald, he had a thick mustache, as if all the energy needed to grow hair had been channeled into his upper lip. At the time of their marriage, Mercedes had been extraordinarily thin. Over the years she had become even thinner, like a bar of soap being whittled down to a thin strip. Her straight black hair was always tied back. The sleeves of her dresses were tightly fitted to tiny cuffs that were so thin they could have been snapped like birch twigs. Even when she sat still, she exuded a nervous energy. Bowman had never regretted choosing Mercedes as his wife. Her iron ambition matched his perfectly. She was a tough, shrewd woman, always seeking a place for the Bowmans in high society. It was Mercedes who had insisted on taking her daughters to England. Girl of the boss
Romance wanted to do for this girl since the first moment I saw her. She looks up at me and smiles, then laughs and buries her face in the pillow. I lean toward her and kiss her neck. "What are you laughing at?" She lifts her head from the pillow, her cheeks a dark red. She shakes her head and laughs. "At us," she says. "It's only been twenty-four hours, and I've already lost count." I kiss her crimson cheek and laugh. "I can't count anymore, Lake. I've counted down too many times for one lifetime." I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her on top of me. When she leans in to kiss me, her hair falls between us. I reach over to the nightstand for the elastic, twisting her locks into a bun and pinning them up. "There," I say, pulling her face close to mine once more. "That's better. She made sure we had robes in our rooms, but we haven't used them once. Her ugly shirt has been on the floor since I threw it there last night. Needless to say, these have been the best 24 hours of my life." She kisses my jaw and brings her lips to my ear. "Are you hungry?" she whispers. "Not for food." She pulls back and smiles. "We still have 24 more hours here, you know? If you want to keep up with my pace, you better get your energy up. Besides, we ended up skipping lunch today, for some reason." She rolls away from me, reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the room service menu. "No burgers," I say. She rolls her eyes and laughs. "You'll never forget this." She glances at the menu, holds it up, and points to it. "How about beef Wellington? I've always wanted to try that." "Sounds good," I say, stepping closer to her. Layken picks up the phone to call room service. While she's on the phone, I kiss her back and forth, forcing her to stifle her laughter to keep her composure as she orders. When she hangs up the phone, she slides down from under me and pulls the covers over us. "You've got twenty minutes," she whispers. "Think you can handle it?" "I only need ten." The beef Wellington didn't disappoint. The only problem was that we were both too full and tired to move. We turn on the television for the first time since I carried Lake into the room, so I think it's safe to assume we'll have a break of at least two hours. Our legs are intertwined, and her head is on my chest. I'm running my fingers through her hair and stroking her wrist with my other hand. For some reason, these trivial things, like lying in bed watching TV, become kind of exciting when we're this tangled up. "Will?" She props herself up on her elbow and looks at me. "Can I ask you something?" She strokes my chest, then rests her hand on my heart. "I run twelve laps around the college track and do a hundred sit-ups twice a day," I say. She raises an eyebrow, so I point to my stomach. "Weren't you going to ask about my abs?" She laughs and playfully punches me. "No, I wasn't going to ask about your abs." She leans over and kisses my stomach. "But they are nice." I stroke her cheek and pull her back to look at me. "You can ask me anything, gorgeous." She sighs, lowers her elbow, and lays her head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. "Do you feel guilty sometimes?" she asks softly. "That you're feeling so happy?" I move closer to her and rest my arm on her stomach. "Lake." Don't ever feel guilty. That's exactly what they would want for you." She looks at me and gives me a forced smile. "I know that's what they would want. But it's just... I don't know. If I could undo everything that happened to have them by my side again, I wouldn't think twice. But if I did that, I would never have met you. So I feel guilty sometimes because..." I press my fingers to her lips. "Shh," I say. "Don't think like that, Lake. Don't think about the what ifs." I lean in and kiss her forehead. "But if it helps at all, I understand what you're saying. It's just that there's no point in thinking about it. It's just the way it is." She takes my hand and intertwines our fingers, bringing them to her mouth and kissing the back of my hand. Romance with CEO
Romance stupid things, things I had no intention of doing. So I was very disturbed to discover that death could find me, too. According to my source, if I was "lucky," my death would happen the same way my grandfather did. Old. Smelling of pipe smoke and farts, with wads of tissue stuck to the stubble above his upper lip from blowing his nose. Black lines of dirt under his fingernails from gardening; eyes turning yellow at the corners, reminding me of the marble from my uncle's collection that my sister had a habit of sucking and swallowing, causing my father to come running over to throw his arms around her belly and squeeze her until she spat the marble back out. Old. Brown pants pulled up high on his waist, stopping just above his flabby, woman-like chest, revealing a soft paunch and testicles squeezed tight to one side of the crotch of his pants. Old. No, I didn't want to die like my grandfather had, but dying old, my source revealed, was the best alternative. I learned of my impending death from Kevin, my older cousin, on the day of Grandpa's funeral, as we sat on the grass at the bottom of his long yard with plastic cups of red lemonade in our hands and as far away as possible from our grieving parents, who looked more like dung beetles on what was the hottest day of the year. The grass was covered with dandelions and daisies and much longer than usual, since Grandpa's illness had prevented him from tending his garden in the last weeks of his life. I remember feeling sad for him, and wanting to defend him too, since, of all the days to show off his beautiful garden to his neighbors and friends, on this day the plants were not as perfect as he had always aspired. He wouldn't have minded not being there-he wasn't much of a talker-but he would have at least cared about the yard's appearance, and then disappeared to hear the praise from afar, away from everyone, perhaps upstairs through an open window. He would have pretended not to care, but he did care, a satisfied smile on his face to match his grass-stained knees and blackened fingernails. Someone, an old lady with a rosary of beads wound tightly around her knuckles, said she felt him in the garden, but I didn't. I was sure he wasn't there. He would have been so irritated by the way the garden looked that he couldn't have stood there. My grandmother would punctuate the silence with phrases like, "His sunflowers are in bloom, bless his soul," and "He couldn't even see the petunias bloom." To which my smart-ass cousin Kevin said, "Yeah, his body's turned into compost now." Everyone snickered; Everyone always laughed at the things Kevin said because Kevin was cool, because Kevin was the oldest, five years older than me, and at the ripe old age of ten, he would say cruel and mean things that no one else would dare say. Even if we didn't find it funny, we still had to laugh because if we didn't, he would quickly turn us into the object of his cruelty, and that's what he did to me that day. On that rare occasion, I didn't find it funny that Grandpa's dead body was underground and helping the petunias grow, nor did I find it cruel. I saw a certain beauty in it. And a lovely fullness and justice, too. It was exactly what my grandfather would have loved, now that his thick sausage-like fingers could no longer contribute to the blooming of his long, beautiful garden that was the center of his universe. It was my grandfather's love of gardening that inspired the choice of my name: Jasmine. This was what he brought to my mother in the hospital when I was born: a bouquet of flowers he had plucked from the wooden frame he had built himself and painted red that adorned the shadowy back wall, wrapped in newspaper and tied with brown string, the ink from the Irish Times crossword puzzle dripping with rainwater that had gotten on the stems. It wasn't the summer jasmine we all know from expensive scented candles and fancy room vaporizers; I had been born in winter, and so the little jasmine, with its small, yellow flowers like stars, was in abundance in his garden to help brighten the dull winter. I don't think my grandfather ever thought about the meaning of the flower, or whether he felt particularly honored by my mother's honor in naming me after the flower he had brought. I think it was a strange name for a child to give him, a name he had only ever invented for natural things in the garden, never for a person. With a name like Adalbert, after a saint who had been a missionary 
