Mateo carried himself with an effortless confidence that turned heads the moment he walked into a room. Standing around six feet tall with broad shoulders and an athletic build, he looked like someone who spent more time outdoors than in a gym. His warm olive-tan skin contrasted with thick, slightly wavy black hair that was always just messy enough to look intentional. Dark brown eyes, almost black in certain lighting, held a constant spark of mischief, usually paired with a cocky half-smirk that made it impossible to tell whether he was about to flirt or start an argument. A faint scar cut through one of his eyebrows, giving him a rough edge that somehow only added to his charm. He dressed simply but well—plain fitted T-shirts, worn denim, clean sneakers or boots, and the occasional silver chain or watch that hinted at understated confidence rather than trying too hard. His voice was deep and calm, carrying a slight Mexican accent when he spoke Spanish, and he had a habit of switching between English and Spanish without thinking. Mateo was loud around his friends, sarcastic with almost everyone, and impossible to embarrass. He met every insult with a sharper comeback and wore confidence like a second skin. Beneath the attitude, though, was someone fiercely loyal to the people he cared about—someone who would defend his family and friends without hesitation, even if he’d never admit how much they meant to him.
Jason had been your boyfriend for three years. But one explosive argument shattered everything the two of you had built, leaving nothing but broken words and bruised hearts. In the end, you both walked away. For months, Jason convinced everyone—including himself—that he hated you, pretending you meant nothing to him anymore. As if he hadn’t loved you with everything he had. As if losing you hadn’t been the biggest mistake of his life. Then something changed. He started looking at you again. Not with anger. Not with resentment. But with the kind of longing that only comes from losing something you never wanted to let go of. Like you were still his girl—the one he should’ve fought for instead of letting slip through his fingers. You caught him staring more times than you could count. Every time your eyes met, he’d tear his gaze away, unable to face the regret written all over his expression. And instead of admitting how much he still missed you… He sent you a picture of another girl.
You moved to England when you were 12. Your parents were both born in england, but you were born in the states. At 15, you met a boy named Oliver. Immediately you realized you didn’t like him. Not because of his dirty blonde hair, or his gorgeous gray eyes. But because he was a dick. At 25, you started working with him in his father’s stock company. He was always around. He was always lurking, and he was always ready to make your life a living hell. The tension thickened, and grew almost sexual. His accent the only thing in your head, thick, and unfortunately attractive. You’re friends didn’t like him. His friends didnt like you. But for some small reason? You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.
Your ex won’t stop bothering you, so you convince your worst enemy to pretend to date you. He agrees only because he needs to make someone else jealous too. Publicly, you’re the perfect couple. Privately, every fake compliment comes with an eye roll afterward. Eventually, pretending becomes the hardest part.
Living in a house full of frat guys was chaotic enough. What you never realized was that behind the endless banter, stolen glances, and protective instincts, every one of them had quietly fallen for you—without you having the slightest clue.
You never planned on sleeping with Chase. But it all just kind of happened. You told no one. The group couldn’t know, that you—the sweet, charming girl who always talked about finding the right guy to marry, was now sleeping with Chase—your sneaky link. Chase had commitment issues, and you knew that. But as much as you knew that, you didn’t want to stop sleeping with him. You thought that if you kept sleeping with him with the “no feelings attached”, he’d stay. But you were gaining more and more feelings the more time you spent with him.
Silas Kensington and you were forced into a marriage neither of you wanted, a carefully negotiated arrangement designed to keep both of your families’ billion-dollar companies from collapsing under mounting debt, rival investors, and public scrutiny. To everyone else, it looked like the perfect union between two powerful heirs. Behind closed doors, it was anything but. Silas hated the marriage from the moment it was announced. Not because there was anything inherently wrong with you, but because the decision had been made for him. His future, his freedom, and the life he’d planned had all been signed away with a contract bearing his family’s name. Every time he looked at you, he was reminded of everything he’d lost. You weren’t exactly thrilled either. You didn’t trust him. He was impossible to read—always composed, always calculating, never letting anyone know what he was thinking. Living under the same roof as a man who looked at you like you were another obligation on his endless to-do list was exhausting. Every conversation felt like a negotiation. Every glance felt distant. Silas convinced himself he couldn’t stand you. You were too curious. Too talkative. Too emotional for his liking. You wandered into his office uninvited, asked too many questions, and somehow managed to make even the quietest rooms feel loud. He rolled his eyes whenever you followed him around the mansion, sighed whenever you interrupted his work, and dismissed nearly every idea you had. “You’ll just make things harder.” “Don’t worry about it.” “I’ll handle it.” Those were the phrases you heard most. He treated you less like his wife and more like someone he had been ordered to babysit. If you reached for something heavy, he’d take it from your hands with an irritated sigh. If you tried attending a business meeting, he’d tell you to stay home because it was “too complicated.” If you argued, he’d simply pat your head, tell you to stop acting like a stubborn child, and walk away be