He is cold, reckless, untouchable. She is fearless, reckless, already falling apart. He left, leaving behind the only girl who ever managed to get under his skin. When he returns, she's no longer the bright, stubborn girl he remembers. Now she's addicted to drugs, drowning in self-destruction and living as if tomorrow doesn't exist. He pretends he doesn't care. She pretends she doesn't need anyone. But some people are impossible to forget.

CeoxAssistant|gxg|slowburn|15 years age gap He leaned over her desk for fourteen minutes. Amalia didn't remember his name by the time Nadia was done with her. "What's his name?" "I don't knowww" Amalia whined. "Good girl." She wiped the smudged lipstick from Amalia's mouth with her thumb like a statement. Then walked the entire length of the office, poured water, walked back. Set it down. Amalia looked at it. Looked at Nadia. Raised both shoulders toward her ears and turned her face away. "You're being ridiculous, Amalia." But Amalia didn't budge. Nadia picked her up. Sat back down with Amalia settled against her, tipped the glass to her lips, kissed her once between every sip. Unhurried. Like this was completely reasonable. It was the most spoiled thing Amalia had ever allowed. She allowed all of it. "More." she said when the glass was empty. "Brat." "Your brat." Nadia didn't answer. She didn't have to. She just went to get more water. Amalia Peters. 20. Never carried her own bag. Never pumped her own gas. Never eaten a meal that wasn't placed in front of her like an offering. Beautiful. Brilliant. Completely aware of both. Then June took her parents and left her in a house so quiet she talked to empty chairs. She got a job not because she needed money because the silence was unbearable. She pouted through the entire interview. Got hired anyway. Nadia Crane. 35. Looks 25. Stopped being flattered by that around thirty. On paper - CEO. Empire builder. Never raises her voice. Off paper - cargo that moves at night. Contracts nobody signs twice. A stillness that has ended careers, companies, and at least three men's entire futures. She runs several companies. Only some are legal. She watched Amalia Peters sigh at a waiting room chair like it had wronged her ancestors. And hired her on the spot. Her parents spoiled her. Her boss ruined her beyond repair. #1 in spoiled. #1 in intersex. #1 in gl. #1 in lesbianlgbt #1 in sapphic

"Morning, Mr. Serious," I say now, setting his usual cup on the table. I add two sugar packets because I can't help myself. He never uses them. He never even looks at them. But I like the idea of them sitting there, taunting him with sweetness. His eyes flick up to mine - stormy gray, the kind that make you feel like you're under interrogation for a crime you don't remember committing. "You should stop doing that." His voice is low, accented, like gravel dragged across velvet. Russian maybe? Or Italian. Or both. Either way, it does unholy things to my stomach. "Doing what?" I ask innocently, sliding the sugar closer to his hand. "That." His gaze drops to the packets. "I don't take sugar." I grin, all sunshine and sass. "You don't know that. Maybe one day you'll wake up and realize life's better with a little sweetness." ●・○・●・○・● Rafael Volkov doesn't do small talk. Or smiles. Or sugar in his coffee. As the mafia's underboss, he's built a reputation on silence, sharp suits, and an expression that could curdle milk. So of course, Lila Parker makes it her mission to crack him. The sunny diner waitress insists on slipping him extra sugar packets, calling him "Mr. Serious" behind the counter, and treating him like a normal guy instead of a walking red flag. He tells her to stop. She doesn't. He growls. She grins. And suddenly, his late-night coffee runs feel less like routine and more like... something he shouldn't want. The problem? In his world, affection is dangerous. Smiles get noticed. Weaknesses get used. And if Lila isn't careful, her little act of kindness might just paint a target on her back. Rafael swore he didn't have a sweet tooth. Turns out he was wrong. ●・○・●・○・● Word Count: 37,478

depraved - /dɪˈpreɪvd/ - morally corrupt; wicked. "You're obsessed with me," I breathe, fingers gripping the gun harder. "it's so pathetic." "Call me a fool instead," he replies with a tilt of his head as he steps closer, the gun digging into his chest. "because I'm never letting you go." ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ They say all good boys go to heaven, and bad boys bring heaven to you but they never say anything about the boys who unleash hell upon the world just for you. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝘝𝘖𝘞𝘚 𝘖𝘍 𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘎𝘌𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌: 𝘋𝘌𝘗𝘙𝘈𝘝𝘌𝘋 𝘈 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬 1. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 He came for revenge. He stayed to claim her. Gabriella Ferrara is fire in silk and lace. A fortress. Untouchable. Unbothered. Zain Ibrahim is the darkness already inside her walls. For years he's watched her from the shadows. She was supposed to pay for her father's sins. One look and the plan burns. Now she's the sin he can't confess and the craving he can't kill. What starts as vengeance twists into obsession. Obsession into possession. Behind custom suits and blood-stained knuckles, Zain learns exactly how far he'll go to keep her. Because in his world, mercy doesn't exist. And Ibrahim men don't let go. Not of grudges. Not of the women they mark as theirs. In a world of blood oaths, the most dangerous vow is the one he makes to her: Mine. Touch her and you'll answer to me. Will she be his salvation... or the beautiful downfall he was born for? Tropes: Dark mafia revenge romance, kidnapping, dark enemies-to-lovers obsession, possessive MMC, lethal FMC, dangerous seduction, forced proximity, found family, betrayal, toxic heat, murder partners, mafia chaos, mafia king who falls first, falls hard, and loses what little sanity he had left, open door, 18