Winx16

[Rated 18]


Alana Gates is a rebellious 19 years old girl who spent her whole teenage life enduring her mother's abuses. After a certain incident occurs in her life, she moves to New York to stay with her aunt and continue her education. 

The simple life she plans to live quickly gets complicated when she gets entangled with Roman Ashford, the richest and most arrogant man in the whole of New York, and has to be his woman for the next 31 days.

Will she be able to deal with his hot and cold personality.

Will she be able to tolerate his vexing attitude for the next 31 days or will this relationship turn into a complete disaster? 


....


She gasped when Roman lifted her and sat her on his lap, wrapping his arms around her, his sudden action catching her off guard.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to wiggle out of his hold.

Roman showed no sign of letting her go. His hands circled around her waist as he rested his jaw gently on her head.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Alana stilled at his words, puzzled about why he was apologizing. If anyone should be apologizing at that moment, it was her—she had broken the contract. Was he not mad at her?

"W-Why are you apologizing?" she stuttered, struggling to understand his character.

"I had no idea that you were afraid of blood. If I had known, I would have washed up and changed before you got back."

Completely speechless, Alana didn’t know how to react. She wiped the tears from her eyes, unknowingly smearing her mascara.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Alana asked, looking up at Roman, trying to gauge his expression.

“I was, but not anymore.” 

Roman took hold of her wrist, his sharp gaze immediately landing on the scar on her inner wrist. He gently ran his thumb over the mark, his touch both hot and ticklish against Alana’s skin. 

“Who hurt you?” Roman asked, his tone soft.

“No one... It was an accident,” she replied, turning her face away from her wrist, slightly taken aback by the question.

Cold Desire

Forts building, the headquarters of the Beaufort empire stood proud and tall, the warm evening sun casting a remarkable glow on its thirty-story glass windows, emphasizing its impeccable exteriors. 


Rose stepped down from the driver's seat of her car, gracefully dressed in a fitted gown that shimmered under the sunlight, drawing the attention of nearby passersby. As a popular supermodel, she was accustomed to the gaze of admirers. 


She crossed the road and entered the fortified building, her head held high, plush steps clicking on the marble floor of the wide reception hall, each sound echoing like an invitation to notice her presence. A satisfied smile flickered across her lips; the attention was as vital to her as the air she breathed, and she could never get enough of it. 


She could have taken Roman's private elevator in the parking garage straight to his office, but she wanted everyone to notice her and know that she was here to see the boss. 


A Slap To The Face