read as Aria Mehta and Sahil Agarwal get entangled in the web created by their mafia family rivalry. But amidst this web of a mess, there's another thread of lust and maybe love forming between these two will it be strong enough to break their eternal hate? or will it lead to their eternal destruction? "just so you know Sahil, when I'm done with this game we are playing you will be crying in the corner like the pussy you are and I will be walking away from you with proud victory" I rant out my anger at him, I just can't stand him at this point Sahil Agarwal let out a smooth chuckle and leaned his back to the elevator walls opposite me. he put his hands in his pocket, posture idle, his black hair all messed up, his blue eyes glinting with mischief "funny love, cuz that's not what u were saying last night when I was eating your pussy out and you came all over my face, remember?" he drawled okay that might have just.... ugh fuck him,. well u did fuck him last night Aria Its ironic how he calls me "love" There is no love between us, only hate and maybe a little bit of lust ARIA MEHTA x SAHIL AGARWAL

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN