Novels by Wendy Charles

As Blake and I re-entered the ballroom, the warmth and chatter of the crowd press in around us, a stark contrast to the tension still humming between us. My heels click against the marble floor, but my mind is still back in that quiet corner, still feeling the ghost of Alan’s fingers as he let me go.I don’t even get the chance to process it before a familiar voice calls my name.“Samantha!”I turn just in time to see Isabel approaching, a bright smile on her face. She looks stunning in an emerald green dress, her dark curls swept to one side, the picture of effortless elegance.Before I can react, she loops an arm through mine, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “There you are! I was starting to think you ran off.”I force a small smile. “I’m fine. Just… stepping away for a bit.”She hums, unconvinced, but doesn’t push. Instead, she turns slightly to the man standing beside her, her fingers brushing against his wrist in a casual, familiar gesture.“I want you to meet someone,”

THE DAY OF THE BALL. Alan and I step into the ballroom, and for a fleeting moment, the world around us ceases to exist.I feel the weight of his gaze on me before I even turn to meet it. When I do, the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver through me. He looks at me like he's trying to memorize every detail, like I'm something rare-something he doesn't want to look away from.I believe it's because of the deep-black satin dress that clung to my body in all the right ways, the shimmer of tiny crystals making me glow under the ballroom lights. My soft waves frame my delicate face.His voice is low, almost reverent. "You're so beautiful."The words send a warmth through me, leaving me momentarily speechless.But then, my eyes take him in fully-the midnight-black tuxedo, perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt beneath, and the deep burgundy bowtie that matches my dress. He's effortlessly handsome, devastatingly so, but it's his eyes-dark, smoldering, watch

After leaving Alan's room, I went straight to Blake's. I hesitated for a moment outside the large double doors before knocking."Come in," his deep voice called out.I stepped inside, finding him at his desk, his sleeves rolled up, fingers gliding over the keyboard. He barely looked up—it was obvious he already knew it was me."I don't mean to disturb you," I said, shifting on my feet. "I just wanted to check if there's anything you need me to do."Blake finally looked up, his piercing eyes locking onto mine. "No work for now. You have time to yourself, but be available in the evening. There will be work then."I nodded. "Alright. Thanks."He gave a slight nod before returning to his work, and I turned to leave, closing the door behind me.————On my way to the kitchen, I noticed two new faces—a man and a woman. The man, wearing a chef's uniform, was organizing ingredients, while the woman, dressed neatly, stood beside Nadia, chatting quietly. I assumed that was the new cook and

I made my way toward Alan’s room. My heart pounded with each step, Isabel’s words still echoing in my head. You should go to the ball with him.I hesitated in front of his door. It wasn’t fully closed, just slightly ajar. I lifted my hand to knock, but then—I saw it.Through the gap, I caught a glimpse of him standing in front of a large canvas. His back was to me, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his posture relaxed yet focused. But it wasn’t just that—it was what he was painting.Me.I sucked in a breath.The image wasn’t complete yet, but I could see it. The soft strokes of color, the delicate way he had painted my eyes, my lips—like he had memorized every detail.I stepped inside without thinking, the floor creaking beneath my foot. Alan stilled.Slowly, he turned his head, catching me in the doorway.His expression was smooth at first, like I had just caught him doing something forbidden. But then his lips twitched, and amusement flickered in his gaze.“Snooping around my ro

I sat on the bed, heart pounding, replaying Alan’s words."Be my date for the ball."That question had left me completely breathless, completely unsure of how to respond. And now, Alan—half-dressed, barefoot, searching for his shirt—was acting as if he hadn’t just dropped that bombshell.I clenched the sheets beneath me, my mind in chaos. But Alan? Completely unbothered. He stood near the edge of the bed, his toned, bare torso catching the faint morning light. Muscles shifting as he reached for his discarded dress shirt, he moved with a casual grace—like a man who had nothing to regret.I swallowed hard.Say something, Samantha. But what? I couldn't just blurt out that my heart was still hammering from the way he’d looked at me last night, and how he almost kissed me.Alan finally found his shirt, shaking it out lazily. He glanced over his shoulder, studying me with those sharp, sexy eyes."Still thinking?" His voice was deep, slow. Almost teasing.I sucked in a breath. "About what?"

The bass was deafening. Good.He needed the noise, the crowd, the flashing lights. Needed something to drown out the mess in his head, he needed the club.A drink was in his hand before he even thought about it. Then another. And another. The burn was a welcome distraction, numbing some of the anger simmering inside him.But not all of it.He threw back another drink, another burn searing down his throat. But it didn't help. Nothing did.Not the alcohol.Not the club.Not the mindless, desperate bodies pressing up against him, offering distraction.Because no matter how much he drank, no matter how much he tried to lose himself in the chaos around him—She was still there.And he hated it."Hey, handsome."A voice. Smooth, sultry. A woman slid up next to him at the bar, her fingers trailing down his arm.Alan turned, barely registering her features. Dark hair. Red lips. A flirtatious smirk.She leaned in. "You look like you could use some company."He didn't respond. Just tilted his h