Whatcha Wearin To A Formal Event This Season?

Dark.SensitiveContent.D/s.MAFIA ROMANCE.CEO/Billiomaire Mila(Carmella) I ran away. I did it. Left everything I knew so I could just live my life without the future that promised hell on earth. Now all I have to do was hide so noone from back home finds me.But did I really left the hell behind? Because no, the new job I got comes with Boss that’s devil incarnate and he sure knows how to make my life hell. The problem with him was, as much as I wanted to kill him, I also wanted to look into those grey eyes and find all his secrets.To tell him how much of an arsehôle he is, and then maybe kiss him a little,forgetting the fact that he was dangerous. But I couldn’t help the attraction to his untouchable beauty, knowing I’d be the one getting hurt and killed. Jonathan Nothing in life comes easy and I learned that the hard way. But when my new secretary managed to stay more than two weeks I knew that something was not right. And for someone like me-a man leading a double life, if something is too good then it’s the worst thing waiting to happen. Proving me right, I received an email directly from the source. The little nerdy girl wasn’t as boring and submissive as she pretended to be. There’s a wide world of fantasies she’s hiding inside that head of hers which includes me. But this isn’t it. I've only uncovered half of what she’s hiding. There’s more lot to my little secretive secretary. And our worlds might not be as different as she thought .Because she came running right through the door she wanted to exit.

That night, drunk and heartbroken after her fiancé’s betrayal, Celeste accidentally sent her masturbation video to her boss, Lazarrus Walkez V, the ruthless billionaire who lives in permanent numbness. The next morning, a single text arrived, “Come to my office, Little doe.” From that moment…he offered her a dirty deal, and she became the only one who could awaken the monster that had been dead inside him. Revenge turned into obsession. Obsession turned into love.

On the flight to Arlencia, a post popped up: [What's it like to have sex in a wedding dress?] The pic showed a girl yanking some guy's purple tie while he hiked up her gown. His face was blurred, but hers? Straight-up blissed out. Everyone in the comments was swooning over how in love they looked. I didn't swoon. I froze. Because that purple tie? I gave it to Zeke Santoro, my fiancé, a few days ago. And that wedding dress? The exact custom one he had made for me. There was only one. I kept zooming in, heart racing, until I spotted a family photo in the background. My hands were shaking when I called him. "I wanna see the dress," I said. He hesitated. "It's at the studio getting final touches. Not with me right now. I'll show it to you later." I just smiled and hung up. That was all I needed. Zeke cheated—and the girl? His stepsister, Jella. Total circus. I reopened the post and shot her a DM: [Your wedding dress is stunning. I have the same one.]

My fiancé, Skeet Fadley, stood with me at my dress fitting when his phone rang. "Skeet..." Her voice came through on speaker. That was all it took—I knew today's bridal photos weren't happening again. Skeet glanced at me, guilty. "Babe, something came up with Norah. I gotta go." Not a question. A notice. I stared at myself in the mirror, already in the gown, and gave a small nod. "Go." It's fine. My groom's about to change anyway.

On the day I went to try on my wedding dress, Enzo had said he would come with me—but he never showed up. The train of the gown was too long. I stood alone in front of the mirror, bending over again and again to fix it more than a dozen times. The third time I stepped on the hem, my phone finally buzzed. 'Natalie just came back and isn't used to the weather here. I'll go pick her up. You try on the dress first.' The next second, a new post popped up on social media. Natalie had uploaded a photo. In it, Enzo was crouched in front of her, one hand wrapped around her slender ankle as he carefully fastened the strap of her high heels. The caption was only one line. 'He still couldn't bear to let me bend down.' When I tapped into the post, I saw that Enzo had already liked it. The bridal assistant sensed the shift in the air and tried to comfort me in a low voice. "Ms. Blackwood, Mr. Beck really cares about you. He was worried you might secretly diet and hurt your health, so he specifically told us not to alter the waistline any further." I smiled. He cared about me, yes. But his care had never stopped him from favoring someone else. I lowered my head and looked at the wedding dress on my body. Then it suddenly struck me. The thing that did not fit had never been the dress. It was this wedding.

My five-year marriage with Alexander was like a couture gown, ripped to shreds. "I want Victoria to show your collection for the New York Fashion Week spring preview." My husband Alexander's voice cut through the sketch I was working on. I stopped drawing. I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?" "Victoria is new. She needs a platform. Your new spring collection is the perfect springboard for her." "You're a showstopper every year. What's the harm in giving her one shot?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Besides, the brand needs new blood." I stared at the man I'd spent five years with. Suddenly, his face looked sharp, unfamiliar. "Do you have any idea how many nights I've stayed up working on this collection? And you want to give it to some new assistant?" "Evelyn, don't be so petty. It's just a preview." His expression turned cold. "I've already decided." I clenched my fists, a thousand emotions churning inside me. Fine. If you're going to treat me like this, don't blame me for leaving you.