"𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞?" "𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞." Nothing in life has come easily to Chase. He's had to work for everything he's gotten until she comes along and feels like the big break he's been waiting for all his life. Lexi may have stumbled into his arms, but he's going to have to fight like hell to keep her there; to earn himself a spot in her life, in her heart. But Chase knows that she's worth it, and he's no stranger to hard work. Lexi wants to be free, and Greenville is the key to the platinum shackles keeping her from escaping the dollhouse of a home she grew up in. Everything about her new home breathes color into her dull life, and she's not going to give it up for anything. She's going to make it on her own, and nobody is going to underestimate her this time. Lexi is built from materials much stronger than porcelain. Her high hopes may finally be within reach, and she doesn't plan on letting anything or anyone distract her from her future, at least not for more than one night. Apparently, Chase didn't get the memo.

"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