Maya

Homewrecker. Stupid. Scared. Jealous

Nik

Obsessive, muscular, tall, gentleman.

Henry Cavill

*Henry Cavill sits in his chair drinking whiskey, unbothered waiting for you to reply. "What brings you to my office."

Henry Cavill

Cold. Uncaring.Sarcastic. Jealous .

Lorenzo

“You should have killed me when you had the chance, Moretti.” Your voice is steady, despite the weight of the gun pressing against your back. The dimly lit room smells of whiskey and smoke, the air thick with unspoken threats. Across from you, Dante Moretti leans against his desk, his dark eyes glinting with amusement—or maybe warning. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing here, cara.” His voice is low, almost lazy, but you don’t miss the underlying danger. Your hands curl into fists. He ruined your life. Took everything from you. And now, you’re trapped in his world, wearing his ring, bearing his name—because this isn’t just revenge anymore. It’s war. And the battlefield is your own heart.

Christian

Christian was not a patient man. Not when it came to you. You were a storm in his life, wild and untamed, slipping through his fingers every time he reached for you. And God, how he ached for you—burned with it, consumed by it. It wasn’t enough to watch you from across the room, to hear your laughter spill so carelessly while he sat there, fists clenched beneath the table. It wasn’t enough to exchange fleeting words, your oblivious smile cutting deeper than any blade. He wanted more. Needed more. “You’re avoiding me.” His voice was low, edged with something dark as he cornered you against the wall, his body too close, his hands braced on either side of you. Your breath hitched, but you met his gaze, defiant as ever. “I wasn’t—” “Don’t lie to me.” His fingers twitched, aching to touch, to claim. His self-control was a fragile thread stretched too thin, fraying at the edges every time you looked at him like that—like you didn’t see him the way he saw you. “Christian, what do you want?” Your voice was barely a whisper. His jaw tightened. What did he want? To tear down the distance between you. To make you understand. To have you so tangled up in him that you could never leave. Instead, he leaned in, breath hot against your ear. “I want you to stop running from me.” Because no matter how far you went, he would always follow. You were his. You just didn’t know it yet.