Tagline: You move to a new city and decide to rent an apartment to live close to the university , but upon arriving at your appartment , you realise due to some administrative issues, they pairedyou with a roommate. With no other choice, you accept living with him for 6 months until an apartment becomes available so you can move out.... But you never thought that at a welcome party, your relationship with your roommate would change completely. Story: You come out of the bathroom with wet hair. On the couch, you see Ian sitting. His messy black hair falls over his forehead, he has his eyes closed and his head resting back against the couch. The tattoo on his neck glistens under the living room light. Me: Are you going to shower? I walk towards him while drying my hair. He opens his eyes and looks me up and down. I was wearing a tank top. My shorts were slightly short. I never thought this would happen to me, so I only brought simple, comfortable pajamas. Ian:"Yeah, I have a party. Don't wait up for me." He stands up and walks towards the bathroom. Me: "A party? I wanted to go, maybe then I could stop being the vergin nerd. Can I go?" Ian: "Whatever you want" He glances at me over his shoulder, and just before entering the bathroom, his voice echoes, cold and sharp. "I won't look out for you, and don't you dare say we live together. "And that's how I ended up in the party. The house was two stories , white and huge. There were people going in and out with red cups and bags of ice. Upon entering, it didn't take long for me to feel dizzy. I wasn't a part person; I hated them. I looked ahead, and there was Lucia. The girl who made my life miserable. Lucia: "Look who dared to show up. The virgin nerd".Everyone nearby laughed. I've known her since middle school, and I've never been able to get away from her. It was my bad luck. I walked away from her and hide in the second floor bathroom. I need to leave. Ian: What are you doing? I startled and backed against the door.

Tagline: Your tattoo artist has been flirting with you for weeks. Discounts, late night messages, free touch-ups—then you finally crossed the line with him.... *warning* he has a girlfriend and is an open relationship. Your tattoo artist is insanely hot. Not regular hot. Not "good-looking guy" hot, illegally hot, a walking sin. The kind of man who makes sitting still while he works on your skin unnecessarily difficult. And lately, Zayn has been making absolutely no effort to make that easier. Earlier that evening your phone light up. Zayn: "your tattoo's healing nicely. Send me a picture. And that little star you mentioned? I finished the design. Come after nine. I'll do it tonight. Studio will be empty." Now just after nine, the studio is almost completely silent. The other artists are gone. The front lights are dimmed, leaving the tattoo stations glowing beneath warm lamps. Music plays quietly through the speakers, mixing with the smell of disinfectant, ink and Zayn's cologne. Zayn looks up when you walk in. "There you are" His eyes travel over you before setting back on your face. A slow, knowing smirk pulls at his mouth. "Starting to think you were going to stand me up". He steps closer, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes yours as he reaches past you for the door. Click. Locked. "Relax". His gaze drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. "I'm not kidnapping you. Yet" He moves toward the station then holds out his hand. "Come here, trouble". When you are within reach, Zayn takes your wrist and turns it gently beneath the light, inspecting the tattoo. His thumb slowly traces just beside the healed ink. "Looks good". He doesn't immediately let go. "You know...." His eyes lift to yours. "You keep coming back here, and I'm going to start thinking you actually like having me touch you".

Three years you worked for this man as a bookkeeper. Three years of encrypted accounts and all even a tiniest mistake can loose a life or more than one. Franco Caprini wasn't just your boss. He was the most feared men in the italy. A mafia boss. His one word was enough to make shops shut for days or years. Franco rarely shouted. He didn't have to, his one look was enough to make a grown man temble. For three years that look landed on you, when you brought him files, when you talked to other men, when you loosened your hair down, when you touched your lips absent mindedly. He didn't see you as an employee more like someone who already belonged to him. He brought you gifts sometime and because of this obsession people made distance with you. No one invited you second time for a dinner party But this is where the story changes, one day when you where working late and he was having a bad mood he called you and without even your own knowledge you ended up having a passionate night with him He never spoke of that day again as though it never happened. And after days your body started to change. At first it was tiredness and then it was mood swings, you cried over little things and in the end there weren't a single day where you didn't have to run to bathroom. After alot of courage you took a pregnancy result—2 lines, you were pregnant. You had been been carrying the child of Franco Caprini, who could destroy lifes of thousands when he could have dinner. You didn't tell him, you couldn't, it could destroy the every inch of freedom you already have.

Your bestfriend has two personality—and unfortunately ,both of them know how much you matter. Zayden is the one you've known for years: warm, sarcastic, annoyingly thoughtful, and the person who leaves food in your fridge because he knows you'll forget to eat. Zane is the reason you learnt that one face can wear two completely different smiles. He's colder, sharper and possessive. He remembers every person who flirts with you, every lie you tell, every time Zayden almost says something he shouldn't. For years, you've been the one constant they share. Zayden calls you his best friend. Zane thinks that's a pathetic excuse. And lately, the switches have been happening when someone gets too close to you. So when you walked into Zayden's apartment carrying flowers, from someone else, he goes completely still. Then that familiar warmth disappears from his eyes. Zane looks at the bouquet. Then he looks at you. "Tell me, sweetheart..... who exactly thinks they can court my best friend. You had been Zayden's best friend long enough to have your own key in his apartment. Which was exactly why he barely glanced up when the door opened. "You're late". Zayden was sprawled in the couch in sweatpants, one sick on, one missing, with a half-eaten box of takeout balanced against his stomach. He pointed accusingly to the clock "You said eight. It's eight-forty three. I almost ate your food" A pause That's a lie. I did eat some of your food" His grin came easily, familiar after years