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The Life Of A Youngest Princess novel

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Mafia Obsession
By: Laila AliRomanceDARK ROMANCE "Sir, I am in a dire need of loan. Its very important, my friends life is at stake. I assure you I'll try my best to return the loan asap." She breathlessly said it all. Her eyes were filled with hope and expectations. He was her last hope. "Miss Sheharzaad," Shehryaar said, while standing up from his chair causing her to instantly stand up. "Yes sir" she replied, her voice troublesome yet confident. He walked towards the other side of the table and sat on the chair parallel to her. "Keep sitting, please." He said, like a gentleman and she sat down. She tightly held her hands together. A life could be saved by his single yes. "Sir please," she pleaded. "I agree. You can have the loan, but I have a condition." "I agree to your every condition sir" she replied with a little smile of victory on her face. "Think before you speak, Miss Sheharzaad." "I trust you." "I want a one night stand with you." He dropped the bomb. ............ "Every women is nothing but a , a and you're also one of them." He said making her wriggling double against the ropes, which tied her. "You're wrong." She replied with a sheer determination in her eyes. He harshly gripped held her chin and bobbed her head up towards him. "Oh, I'll prove it to you then." He spoke with an immense intensity and a promise in his eyes. "You'll now serve me as my personal escort, Sheharzaad." He declared and threaded his fingers into her silky locks, pasting his lips on hers, her brutally. He didn't trust womankind and she was a strong woman. He wanted shatter and break her into pieces so he could satisfy himself.
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HOT COFFEE (Completed)
Emma Cole, a nerd in high school and untouched all throughout her life at a community college, was abandoned by her birth parents and grew up in foster care homes all around New York. Whenever her name was mentioned, the people who knew her laughed and called her foul names, since she looked like the female version of Steve Urkel and was easy to pick on and belittle. She had no sense of style. All she wore were big dresses that hid her tiny figure underneath and glasses which didn"t do her eyes any justice. She owned one bag-- a beat-up leather she received as a gift from a spelling bee contest her freshman year in high school.Though she went to school, she had no friends, no family, and no one to teach her about becoming a lady. Emma had done everything by herself since she was one year old-- the age she was dumped by her parents into the foster system.At age twenty three, she lived in a very small apartment by herself. She wasn"t able to land a high-paying job to afford a good house, as of yet. Every time she applied to a vacant position she may have seen in a newspaper in the cafe, they would turn her down when she went to the interviews and the interviewers took one look at her. Appearance was more than her qualifications if she wanted to land a job as a receptionist or personal assistant at one of the big firms in New York City.Emma decided to stop hoping for a better job and stuck with being a waitress at Carl"s Cafe.Her hell on earth.Carl was the manager and owner of the cafe. A grown man, forty-five years old, who had experienced all the things he had chosen to chase in his pathetic life. He was a terrible boss and treated his employees as his personal slaves with low wages. One of his nasty habits was hitting on his female employees while on the job, but he never hit on Emma. Although she was a female, she just wasn"t his type and was too unattractive to even be bothered with.
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