#forbiddcndcsirc

“Did you come because you wanted to or because my family finally wants me to be claimed?” She said as she  had been locked in the house for her own safety so the only reason he’d be here would be that he broken in to get her out before her parents came back with who they chose or because he was who her parents chose.

It was quite a bittersweet moment to see her here. It’s been quite a long time now, he honestly lost the count due to how fast he was living, time worked differently in his creative crazy head. But he remembered quite well those three years of life she was his, and he was hers just the same. Braxton would be a liar to say he didn’t think of her; he did, and often. Even if he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who liked opera, he was a versatile musician and found opera quite intriguing. A lot of it he has learned from her, and he has would google her from time to time to see how she was doing, and he was joyful to see her success. It was obvious Yasmina was doing much better without him in his life. 

So hence his surprise seeing her at his doorstep, but he couldn’t help but chuckle as she mentioned the paint. “Ah, you know how it goes; when I’m bored, I paint. And I haven’t had much to do lately, so...” he mused, gesturing at his stained attire. For a moment there Braxton just looked at her, even mesmerized a little - she was as beautiful as he could remember. “Sorry, uh - wanna come in?” he asked, moving to the side so she could step in. “I didn’t know you’re in town. Would you like a drink? Coffee or maybe something stronger?”

Emery rubbed at the numbers on her wrist as he spoke. Really she’d expected something amazing to happen when they finally hit zero but this seemed to be the opposite. “There isn’t a way to change it.” God this wasn’t the love story she’d made up in her head that was for damn sure. Pulling at her sleeve she covered the numbers on her wrist and nodded. “But it’s fine. I’ll just go home. Thanks for the interview it was great meeting you.” What else was she supposed to say? So she picked up the papers she’d brought with her and put them into her bag as she stood. “I’m sure you’ll find someone you find better suited.”

Achara had been nervously awaiting her test results, though part of her had a feeling that she hadn’t scored as a dominant. The thought of being designated a submissive and up for use by anyone with the status of dominant had her stomach flipping with more nerves. Her own mother was a submissive, and now that her eighteenth birthday had passed they had taken her to the facility where she’d inducted into her new life, whatever that maybe. 

“Achara Haller.” A tall, and very attractive woman said as she entered the holding room. “Come with me please.” Achara stood, reluctantly following after the woman whose white coat indicated that her name was Carmen. Achara had also noticed the way the woman was dressed, the collar around her neck, and the blue bracelet that indicated her status as a submissive. The girl wanted to question the woman on that, but more importantly she wanted to know what her results her. 

Entering the room Carmen’s eyes immediately went to the man standing off to the side. A smile played on her lips, but it was gone by the time she turned to face the girl she’d just escorted into the room. “As you’ve probably guessed you tested as a submissive, consider this the start of your training.” Gently she began to undress the girl, very aware of Sam’s eyes on the pair of them as she did. Once done with that task Carmen guided the girl to the center of the room where she helped her up into the swinging contraption that Achara would be strapped into until she was released. “You’re already doing great.” She whispered, stroking a hand against the girl’s face gently, glad that Achara hadn’t put up a fight like some girl’s would. That was likely due to Achara being in a state of mild shock that she didn’t quite register what was happening until felt that gentle caress against the side of her cheek. 

“Those lips can do a great many things, principessa. Maybe if you were less sassy you could experience it more often”

"A smile every once in a while might be nice, as for anything else you can do with your lips, you can keep those to yourself. Honestly you’re a bit too full of yourself.”

At least she could say that she had a beautiful apartment, or Flat, whatever they called it in Venice. Either way she adored it and the rent wasn’t nearly as high as she had expected. But she loved it and after another long day with Ilarion she was happy to be home. Things were tense between them and it was clear to her that she had been pushed out of his inner circle after their argument and she wasn’t brought into meetings the way she had been before. While it was something that made her nervous because she knew he could get rid of her at any moment, she didn’t make those thoughts known. Not to him. All she could really hope for was that she could somehow be let out of her work and left alone but she seriously doubted that.

Toeing off her heels she left them by the door and padded across the room and into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. At least she could say she earned a drink after what happened. Emery put the bottle on the counter and sighed as she opened the drawers trying to find the wine opener before frowning. Maybe it was in the living room. She had used it the night before. So grabbed the bottle and a glass she walked into the living room only to stop short when she saw someone sitting there. Panic bubbled up but she pushed it down as she looked at the other woman. “It’s usually polite to knock.” She sighed. “Do you want a glass or would that make this visit too friendly?”

based on a "mafia princess and her protector" plot.

Being in the mafia world wasn't meant for anyone, even so with the pros and cons. The pros were a life full of luxuries, forming bonds that'd last forever and running businesses. But the cons were people that targeted someone that had so much power in a city or a country itself. Misty was born and raised in an orphanage and spent her early adulthood being a prostitute. During her years as a prostitute, she met a man that'd change her life and made her end up where she is now — a mafia lady with so much influence over her friends and most of all, men. Such man became her lover and went on to have a relationship with her for seven years before he was killed by an enemy of his. During their time together, he had taught her everything she needed to learn and know as part of the mafia and, it didn't take her long to achieve power and most of all, avenge the death of her lover.

Now, she had another type of enemies. Those that were jealous of her success. Which was the reason why she decided to have a protector, someone so loyal to her that they'd protect her with their own life. That was Max to her. A loyal friend, a confidant, a protector. He sworn protection to her and he was rightfully committing to it, as they were sitting and having drinks in a bar of the city. She wasn't afraid to leave her home.

"What plans should we make today?" Misty inquired curiously at him, taking another sip of her white wine. "I feel like going out. I feel energized."