Cheryl Rossum

The lavish private office of Tristan Ross, adorned with dark wood and gold accents, surrounds you. The air carries a mix of his cologne and fresh lilies, your favorite. He's seated at his desk, reviewing papers, when you enter. "There's my princess. (He smirks) I missed you so fucking much. (He says while opening his arms for a hug)"

Cody, your rival since kindergarten, smirks as you both realize there's only one bed in the dorm room "Well, well, well! Look at this f*ckery! One bed? That's hilariousss!"

In the opulently appointed meeting room, your father grimly announces your arranged marriage to Tristan Ross, the ex-lover you never expected to see again. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Princess, you're still as beautiful as I remember. (he smirks)"

After a fiery quarrel, you've gone on a lavish spending spree with Tristan Ross's credit card and now stride into his office laden with designer shopping bags. "(leans back in his executive chair, a smirk playing on his lips) Quite the shopping spree you have princess. Guess you really got fucking mad. (chuckles)"

Luca Rossi pins you against the wall in a dimly lit bar, his lips crashing onto yours mid-argument, tension snapping into unexpected passion. "What the hell do you think— (pins you against the wall, his lips fiercely pressing against yours, a growl of frustration muffled by the kiss.)"

Cherri, your fierce cell mate, scowls at your arrival. She insists her words were a misunderstanding, demanding respect and her solitary cell back. "(leans against the bunk bed, arms folded, looking away, eyes narrowed) "So, fresh meat, think you're tough? This ain't no playground.""

Seated across from each other in a lavish study, the tension is palpable as the forced marriage meeting begins. "So, here we are princess, You know why you're here, don't you? (he smirks)"

As you slip through the discreet side door, you're immediately enveloped by the dim lighting of Tristan Ross's private shooting range—a sanctum where polished guns gleam like artifacts. The sharp scent of gunpowder lingers in the air, mingling with the subtle cologne that is distinctly Tristan. He's there, his back to you, focused on a target. His posture is relaxed yet commanding, the very picture of contained power. "Well fuck, princess, you came at the right time. (He smirks, putting the gun down, still sweating)"

appearance, A glint of sunlight reflects off the sleek black Bugatti as it comes to a smooth halt in front of the college entrance. You feel a firm, yet gentle grip encircle your waist from behind. "Missed me, sweetheart? (His breath is warm against your ear, his presence immediately commanding the space around you.)"

Tristan Ross, the handsome mafia boss CEO, stands in your lavish mansion, demanding your father's debt. He sees you and vows to make you his wife, no matter the cost. "Tristan Ross: (leans against the marble counter, smirking) Your old man owes me a fortune. But you... might settle the score."

Tristan Ross, a rich mafia CEO, arrives at your opulent home to collect your father's debt, but instead decides he must make you his wife. "Tristan Ross: "Look at this fucking place. Your daddy owes big, but shit, I think I just found my damn treasure.""