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A Night With The Alpha novel

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Mafias Kidnapped Wife
Ayoko: Webfic allNikolai was facing me. Those full lips stretched into a wolfish grin, strong arms flexing at his side and those honey coloured eyes piercing through my soul. Gods, you really took your time with this one. He was so damn beautiful.I gulped and Nial skid to my left his hot body centimetres away from mine, his musky fresh scent enveloping me and those eyes. Those fucking brown eyes, warm and so full of love. His smooth skin glinting in the lit hallway just begging to be kissed and licked."Like what you see, Love?" Nikolai muttered, sensual and that accent did things to me. My pussy throbbed involuntarily shutting out any comprehensible bone in my body, my brain included.My cheeks burned for eyeing them so shamelessly and I slightly shifted on my feet bumping into Nadei's front making me blush even more."Love, we're going to kiss you, now."****Nineteen year old Sofia never had thought that her kindness was a bad thing. Always trying to help those in need and always doing it with a bright, beautiful smile on her face.She was the epitome of an angel to most.But one fateful night had changed everything in her life.After saving a strange handsome man, she found herself thrust into a whirlpool of desire and possession. The handsome turned out to be the most infamous, dangerous Russian Mafia.What's worse, there are more than one man that want her so much.Three Mafia brothers kidnapped their shared wife, and never wanna let her go.Will she successfully run away?
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Goodbye Scumbag, Hello True Love
Ayoko: Webfic all"I'm so over Cassandra." Aidan Ziegler sneers, swirling his wine glass with a lazy smirk. "A real woman is soft and sweet—like Clara. As for her..." In the corner, a glass suddenly shatters in a man's palm. Cassandra Callum stands frozen, holding the cake she made to celebrate their three-year anniversary, eyes locked on the blood trickling down from his sharply defined fingers. Tristan Freeman, head of Freeman Group, slowly wipes his hand clean. His dark gaze sweeps over her tear-reddened eyes. "Ms. Callum, would you like to marry me?" The city explodes with gossip. Everyone thinks a broke little designer has climbed her way into wealth and power— what no one knows is that this marriage is a trap Tristan set five years ago. His private gallery holds over a thousand sketches of her profile—from that day in sophomore year when she crouched in a rainy alley feeding a stray cat, to her backstage at a runway abroad, gently arranging jewelry. Late at night, he stares at security footage, cigarette in hand, as Aidan kneels in a storm, soaked and shaking. Tristan suddenly pulls his delicate wife into his arms. Later, a finance reporter captures the once cold and ruthless Tristan, down on one knee before Cassandra. His hands tremble as he holds a pregnancy test. Cassandra flashes her wedding ring and laughs softly. "Surprised, Mr. Freeman?" Tristan, once known for being sharp and vicious, blinks back tears, then presses a trembling kiss to the faded mark on her ring finger. "Cassie, when you were 22, I wanted to say..." "Say what?" He leans in, his voice hoarse as he whispers, "The cake was really sweet."
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