
365 Nights, Two Stepbrothers, One Me.
I moaned out his name. "Damien, you are not trying hard to get me, yet .."
He smirked and whispered to my ears. "I like being hard, Not "trying" hard."
When Lila Sinclair's mother is sentenced to life in prison, her world collapses overnight. With nowhere else to go, she is taken in by Sebastian Blackwood, her mother's former lover. A powerful, reserved man who agrees to shelter her under strict conditions.
Lila is placed in his household... and into a life she never asked for, sharing a roof with two stepbrothers who change everything.
Damien is danger wrapped in charm...intense, controlling, and impossible to ignore. Ethan, on the other hand, is steady, kind, and grounding...the only place she feels safe when everything else feels like it's slipping away.
But Lila's situation comes with a hidden clause: her stay in the country is temporary. Within 365 days, her legal protection expires. To remain, she must marry one of the Blackwood heirs.
One house. Two brothers. Twelve months of blurred lines, buried secrets, and emotions she was never meant to feel.
As desire clashes with safety and passion wars with peace, Lila is forced into a choice that could secure her future...or destroy it completely.
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Chapter 6
Lila's POV
"Look who called today, pussyyy!" JoJo's voice blasted from the screen before his face even popped up.
I burst into laughter. He was leaning against some neon-lit wall, the strobes from a club bouncing across his dark shades like he thought he was a celebrity. "JoJo!" I grinned, instantly lighter. "God, do you ever change? Every time it's some dumbass word first thing on the call."
"Why would I?" He smirked, lips glistening from a drink. "You love me for it. Admit it."
I rolled my eyes. "You're insane."
"Insanely fine, maybe. Anyway, where the hell are you? This doesn't look like your ratty apartment."
I snorted. "Long story. But first, where are you? And why do I hear 'Despacito' blasting in the background?"
JoJo tilted his phone, showing flashing lights, half-naked strangers grinding against each other. "Club, baby. Some Tinder guy dragged me here. Thought he was gonna be my Prince Charming. Turns out, his cock was like a crayon. I had to cancel the deal."
I threw my head back, laughing so hard my stomach hurt. "A crayon? You didn't!"
"Bitch, yes I did." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "And not even the jumbo pack, like those tiny-ass broken crayons you find at the bottom of a kindergarten desk. Tragic."
I wheezed. "You should never settle for a crayon in the form of a cock, JoJo."
"Period!" He snapped his fingers. "Big, bold, thick, like a Sharpie, minimum. Otherwise, I'm out."
We both cracked up, the easy banter filling my chest with warmth. That's what I loved about him. No matter how shitty things got, JoJo could make me laugh.
"So, babe..." He sipped his drink, smirking. "Who you fucking tonight? Ethan? Damien? One of the butlers?"
"JoJo!" I shrieked, covering my face. "Shut the fuck up and speak to me like an educated human for once!"
He cackled. "Ohhh, listen to Miss Blackwood now. All proper and prim. You've been living there too long."
I sighed, suddenly serious. "Speaking of Blackwoods... I'm cooked, JoJo."
His smirk dropped. "Wait. What? Why?"
I chewed my lip. "Damien."
"What about him?"
I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. "You remember how I told you someone almost hit me with a car last night? That was him. And then today, at breakfast, he literally called me a stranger to my face. Said I was too 'ordinary' to be part of this family. Like... he's brutal, JoJo. Ruthless."
"Aww," JoJo said softly, like he was watching a rom-com.
I sat up, glaring. "Aww? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," he smirked, "this is the perfect love story in the making."
I gagged, fake retching. "Please. Trash that thought. That man doesn't have a romantic bone in his body."
JoJo raised his brows. "Oh, but he's got bones elsewhere....tell me, who's hotter? Damien or Ethan?"
I hesitated. My face burned. "...If I'm not gonna lie, Damien is so motherfucking hot it's not fair."
JoJo let out a squeal. "See! Go wiggle that ass in front of him and watch him fall at your feet."
I snorted. "Do you ever give out advice that doesn't involve sex?"
"Nope," he grinned.
We laughed until our sides hurt. Then I softened, biting my lip. "But Ethan... Ethan's perfect. He's everything a woman would ever need. Sweet, funny, protective. But Damien..." I swallowed. "Every time I see him, my heart skips. I can't explain it. It's like...."
A sound.
I froze.
"JoJo... hang up. I heard something."
JoJo groaned. "Bitch, is it every day you hear noises in that creepy mansion? If you know it looks like a haunted house, just pack your bags and leave!"
I giggled nervously. "Shut up. Ethan said he'd pick me up in an hour, but right now I'm alone. So who the hell is here?"
"Then you better carry a cross and some holy water." He made the sign of the cross, laughing.
"Idiot. Hang up."
I clicked the call off and stood, phone light trembling in my hand as I stepped into the hallway. My pulse pounded in my ears. Each step echoed too loudly in the cavernous silence of the Blackwood mansion.
I reached the switch, flicked it on, and screamed. "Gracious heaven!"
My foot slipped on the polished floor, and I tipped backward, falling...
Until strong hands caught me.
My breath stilled. My palms slapped against a chest...hard, warm, unyielding. The scent of smoke and expensive cologne swallowed me whole.
Damien.
His eyes bore into mine, dark storms that froze me where I clung to him. My lips parted, my pulse betraying me. For a long, suspended moment, the world shrank to just us...the press of my fingers against his chest, the heat of his body, the sharp edge of his jaw so close I could trace it.
It was unbearable. Intoxicating. Dangerous.
Then he broke the gaze. Just like that. His voice came low, detached. "If you're not fit enough to stand, you shouldn't be walking around."
I straightened immediately, stepping back, adjusting my top. "Sorry."
His eyes flicked over me, unreadable. "Step up your game. Next time, you'll end up in the hospital."
I frowned, heat rising in my chest. "Do you actually think I just threw myself on you for no reason?"
He smirked faintly, still not looking at me. "Wouldn't surprise me. Any girl would kill to feel my skin."
My jaw dropped. The audacity. "Wow. What exactly are you feeling like? A god?"
He didn't stop walking, didn't even turn.
"Why are you so harsh to me?" I snapped. "It was a minor mistake. I apologised."
He paused, shoulders stiff. "Can I breathe?"
I stormed up to him, poking his chest with my finger. "Don't play games with me, Damien. Everyone makes mistakes. You too. And I said I was sorry....so forgive me, for fuck's sake!"
His hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist. He pushed it off him easily, like I was nothing. His eyes cut through me. "Do I need to remind you that you were picked to survive?"
I staggered back, breath catching.
He leaned closer, his voice razor-sharp. "Transfer this little fire of yours to the time when your mother was busy stealing, maybe she wouldn't be rotting in jail."
My mouth fell open. My chest burned. "You're... unbelievable."
He only shrugged, turning away again.
Fury surged through me. "You're not all that!" I shouted after him.
That stopped him. Slowly, dangerously, he turned. His steps were deliberate as he walked back, closing the distance until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. My back hit the wall.
He reached up, fingers sliding into my hair, tugging it back just enough to tilt my head. My breath hitched as his lips brushed the shell of my ear.
"See now?" he whispered, voice dark velvet. "I am all that. And your body knows it. It's begging for it....even if your mouth won't admit it."
My hands had betrayed me, gripping his chest, fingers trailing dangerously low, down toward the ridges of his abs. The pull between us was unbearable, a magnet I couldn't fight.
Then he pushed me back gently, stepping away, leaving me breathless.
"Damien..." I blinked. "uh... are you heading for the tea party? or is it over already?"
He smirked faintly. "Yes, I am."
My brows knit. "uh ..Ethan....He was supposed to pick me up... but he's late. Like, really late, and I don't know why..."
Damien didn't even look at me. "Definitely, he forgot about you, wear something decent. I'll drop you."
I blinked. "Wait... really?"
He was already walking off.
"Thank you... Dada," I teased, testing him.
He only shrugged, not slowing. "Don't make me regret it."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me pressed against the wall, breathless, furious, and... trembling.
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Two weeks until she turns eighteen.
Two weeks until everything changes.
And a few months left trapped in high school with the boy she hates most.
Calvin Simms has been her enemy for as long as she can remember. Popular, untouchable, and the living reminder of a childhood misunderstanding neither of them ever corrected. Their interactions are sharp, heated, and carefully controlled.
Until they aren't.
As months pass, tension replaces silence.
Jealousy replaces indifference.
And lines blur where hatred once lived.
With rivals watching, secrets resurfacing, and temptation growing harder to ignore, Samira must decide if sticking to her rules is worth denying what her body and her heart are already choosing.
Because some mistakes feel too good to stop.
And sometimes...
you don't fall for the person you want.
You fall for the one you swore to hate.

Minutes before announcing her grand engagement, Darla caught her fiancé sleeping with her stepsister.
She publicly exposed them and canceled the wedding on the spot.
Furious, her adoptive mother demanded Darla marry a fifty-five-year-old predator to save their broken business deal.
"If you don't do exactly what I say, I'll let your father rot in prison for the rest of his life."
Desperate to escape her family's control, Darla grabbed a massive, intimidating hotel security guard she bumped into in the hallway.
She shoved all the cash in her purse at him—eight hundred dollars—and begged him to fake-marry her.
They signed the papers at City Hall that same day.
But the nightmare didn't end.
That evening, Darla received a cold phone call from the state penitentiary.
Her father had been found dead in his cell, and her company, owned by her ex-fiancé's family, fired her immediately.
They had taken everything from her, leaving her completely broken and sobbing on the floor of her tiny apartment.
She thought she had nothing left but a broke, fake husband to keep her company.
She had no idea that the "poor security guard" holding her in his arms was actually Anson Prince, a ruthless billionaire CEO.
And he was already making the calls to tear her abusers' empires to the ground.

For three years, Alana acted as the sole tactical brain for the Dawnbreaker squad, keeping them alive despite being labeled a useless "Dud" Conduit.
But right before the crucial Ascension Trials, squad leader Cash handed her a corporate sponsorship contract. The condition? She had to become the "private companion" to a greasy corporate heir just so the squad could get high-tier gear.
When she refused, the teammates she had bled for unanimously voted to kick her out.
"You're just window dressing, a liability."
They revoked her safehouse access, burned her belongings, and the academy advisor even tried to force her into a state-sanctioned breeding program. They left her to freeze in the slums, betting she would desperately crawl into the rich man's bed.
What they didn't know was that her inability to summon an Eidolon wasn't a lack of talent. Her teammate Dallin had been secretly sabotaging her rituals for years, crippling her potential just to keep her chained as their free tactician.
Stripped of everything and pushed to the absolute brink, Alana's despair morphed into a deadly resolve.
Using a million-credit black market loan and a forbidden blood matrix, she forcibly anchored an Apex-Tier cosmic wolf disguised as a harmless silver pup.
When her ex-squad tried to publicly humiliate her and burn her new "pet" alive in the cafeteria, a flash of silver light severed Dallin's hand instantly.
Looking at her screaming former teammates, Alana finally smiled.

Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."

I was the Stanton family heiress, engaged to the President's son to secure a vital military alliance.
But he cornered me in the White House sitting room, slamming a thick manila folder onto the marble table.
"I said, sign the annulment agreement, Hester."
He looked at me like I was dirt, demanding I step aside so he could be with a manipulative intern named Tricia.
In my past life, I was a naive lamb. I cried and begged him not to end it. My devotion was rewarded with absolute cruelty. He ordered my bones broken and my reputation completely shredded. My trusted assistant forced poison down my throat, and I was left to die with a rope burning my neck.
Until my last breath, I didn't understand. I had done everything perfectly for the family. Why did my unwavering loyalty only bring me a gruesome death? Why did the monsters who tortured me get to live happily in the highest seats of power?
Opening my eyes again, the suffocating terror of the noose suddenly washed away. I was sixteen again, staring at the exact same annulment papers.
"Hester, please. Just let us be happy," Tricia whimpered, reaching out her trembling hand.
This time, I didn't cry. I picked up the solid gold fountain pen, stabbed it violently through the center of the contract, and prepared to drag the entire First Family straight to hell.

Fiona spent three years in a concrete cell, taking the fall for a hit-and-run accident caused by her billionaire husband's mistress.
When she finally got out and returned home, she found him throwing a lavish party, with the mistress on his arm wearing a gown Fiona had designed. Even worse, her own seven-year-old son pointed at her in disgust.
"Go away, bad woman!"
Her husband Cecil threw her out like a stray dog. To force her into submission, he trashed her belongings and cut off the life-saving medical funding for her mentor. Driven to desperation, Fiona snuck back into the mansion to retrieve her late mother's sapphire necklace. But the mistress caught her, ripped her own clothes, and screamed that Fiona was trying to kill her. Cecil didn't even hesitate. He violently shoved Fiona backward. Her head smashed against the sharp edge of a mahogany desk, and blood immediately poured into her eyes.
Lying in a pool of her own blood, Fiona watched the man she had sacrificed her freedom for wrap his arms protectively around the woman who ruined her life. He looked at her with pure, murderous disgust, as if she were the monster.
But Fiona didn't cry. Instead, a cold smile crept onto her face as her bloody thumb secretly pressed the emergency SOS button on her phone, snapping a clear photo of him standing over her shattered body.
"My husband just violently attacked me. I am bleeding from the head. I need help."
The police were already on their way. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.