Novels by Raven Storm

ISABELWednesday dinner is at Marco's penthouse.He cooks again, some elaborate Italian dish that requires three pans and precise timing. I sit at the kitchen counter watching him move through the space with his usual controlled efficiency, but something's off tonight.The precision feels tighter than normal. More rigid. He's quiet in a way that's different from his usual thoughtful silence.This is the silence of someone containing something.We ate at the dining table, the food excellent as always, but Marco's jaw is set throughout. His responses to my attempts at conversation clipped and minimal, like he's holding himself together with concentrated effort.Halfway through the meal I set down my fork."What's wrong?""Nothing." His reply is mmediate and automatic."Marco."He continues eating."Marco. Talk to me."He sets his fork down with careful, controlled precision, and look at me across the table with grey eyes that are doing their best to be unreadable and failing."I'm fine.

ARESSaturday morning starts wrong.I wake early, earlier than usual and lie in bed staring at the ceiling for twenty minutes before giving up on sleep entirely.Harvey is traveling. Boston, some risk assessment meeting that couldn't be rescheduled which means last night, Isabel stayed with Marco.I knew this, and I agreed to this. It was on the shared calendar we all maintain with careful, deliberate honesty.Intellectually, I understand completely. Emotionally, I didn't sleep well. I tell myself I'm fine.I make coffee, and review some work emails. Go for a run along the river, trying to outpace the thing sitting heavy in my chest bu it doesn't work.On the way back, my route takes me past Marco's building. I don't plan it, I don't consciously decide anything but my feet slow when I see the familiar figure emerging from the building entrance.Isabel.Hair slightly messed from sleep. Marco's oversized grey sweater hanging off one shoulder. She is carrying her heels in one hand, and h

ISABELMonday morning arrives with the particular cruelty of all Monday mornings.I walk into Queens Enterprises at eight AM looking every inch the acting CEO, navy suit, heels, hair pinned back, and professional armor fully assembled.Nobody looking at me would guess I spent Sunday evening tangled on a penthouse floor with three men, eating sushi and falling asleep to the sound of Ares's quiet breathing. That's the skill I've developed over the past weeks. Compartmentalization, that is personal Isabel and professional Isabel in completely separate boxes and it works mostly.The quarterly board presentation is at ten AM. I've prepared for weeks, financial projections, operational improvements, strategic initiatives, and growth metrics. Everything is polished to perfection.The boardroom fills with faces I've known my entire life. Men who watched me grow up, who doubted my return, and who are only now beginning to accept that I belong here.My father sits at the head of the table, his

ISABELWeekends belong to all of us.No schedules, no carefully designated time, just four people learning how to exist together as something that defies every conventional label.The first weekend starts Saturday morning when all three men show up at my apartment unannounced, Ares with groceries, Marco with expensive coffee, Harvey with nothing except his presence which somehow feels like the most significant contribution."We're making breakfast," Ares announces, already heading to my kitchen."You're making breakfast," Marco corrects, following. "I'm supervising.""You're both in my kitchen uninvited," I point out.Harvey stops beside me, his hand finding the back of my neck briefly. "Do you want us to leave?""No," I admit.His mouth curves slightly. "Then stop complaining."Breakfast becomes an event.Ares cooks with enthusiastic chaos—eggs everywhere, bacon spitting on the stove, flour somehow appearing despite no baking occurring.Marco stands at the coffee maker with surgical

ISABEL Fridays belong to Harvey and Fridays are nothing like the rest of my week. No loud arcade bars or underground boxing matches. No carefully planned restaurants or spontaneous adventures. Just Harvey. Quiet, dark and intensely present. Our evenings always start slowly like Harvey needs time to shed the ice he wears to the world before he can be real with me. The first Friday, he picks me up at seven and drives without telling me where we're going. We end up at a small jazz bar in the Village—dimly lit, and intimate, the kind of place that feels removed from time. We don't talk much. Just sit side by side, listening to the music, Harvey's hand covering mine on the table but the silence between us isn't empty. It's full. Full of everything we don't need to say because we understand each other without words. Halfway through the second set, Harvey turns to look at me. "I used to come here alone," he says quietly. "After Mrs. Harmony died. When the penthouse felt too empty.

ISABELWednesdays belong to Marco.Where Ares brings lightness, Marco brings depth.Our evenings always start with conversation without fail. Over dinner or wine or coffee, we talk about things that matter. Business strategy, philosophy, the nature of power and how it corrupts or clarifies.He pushes me to think harder, sharper, deeper than anyone else ever has.It's intoxicating in a completely different way than Ares's joy.The first Wednesday, he takes me to an art gallery opening not the kind Ares took me to, warm and romantic with stolen kisses in viewing rooms.This one is darker, more confrontational. Art that challenges and unsettles.Marco stands beside me in front of a massive canvas, all violent reds and blacks and asks what I see."Anger," I say immediately. "Controlled anger. Someone who learned to contain it but couldn't quite."Marco turns to look at me. "Most people say passion.""Passion and anger aren't that different."Something shifts in his grey eyes. "No. They're

“You okay?”Gigi slowly nodded, biting her lips in nervous anticipation. She’d only ever stuck her fingers down there so she didn’t know how exactly to feel about it being Roman this time around.“Good,” He grinned. His gaze never left hers as he tore off the condom packet. She watched as he placed it over his dick then turned back to her.“No cold feet, right?”She shook her head. “Let’s do it. I—I want you.”His grin seemed to grow even wider. “Damn right, you do.”He first lined the tip at her entrance, almost teasing as he rubbed it over the lips of her vagina. A small hum left her, the feeling making her squirm a little.Then, slowly, he pushed further into her. She winced when the pain hit, gently pushing at his chest.“Wait, wait.” She gasped, the pain lessening when Roman paused.He was patient, waiting until she gave the nod again for him to continue. Then he pushed some more of his length further in.As soon as the pain hit again, he stopped. It continued like that until h

For the last few days, Roman had been doing everything in his power to hold on to that little bit of self-control he had.But when those simple words had left Gigi’s lips, the last bit of patience he had snapped. He closed the distance, claiming her lips like some birthright. She tasted like everything he’d ever envisioned.Sweet, and tortuously innocent. A small sigh left her lips when he reached for the back of her hair, bunching it up while he kissed her fervently.His lips slid over her lips, silently begging for access into her mouth. She obliged, parting it just enough for him to slid his tongue into her mouth.She tasted heavenly.He pulled back for a small pause, hurrying over to shut the door, before pulling her in by the waist again.“Gigi,” he said breathlessly. “I can’t promise not to go too hard. You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back.”Her lips curved up a little. “Who says I want you to hold back?”“Naughty, aren’t we?” He couldn’t hold back his grin. “Be care

Stop thinking about him.It sounded easy enough when Gigi mentally repeated it to herself. Roman brought trouble, and she was very sure it wouldn’t be the good kind.“And I was thinking we could stock up on that cranberry juice you like,” Her mother’s voice filtered into her ears. They were in the kitchen, taking stock of how much groceries they had left and what they’d have to get on their next trip to the store.She hummed. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”“We’ll definitely need to get some more meat too,” Her mother continued. “Your step-dad loves his meat after all.”Another absentminded hum left her again. In all honesty, she wasn’t so interested in the conversation. Some homework laid spread out before her, most of them belonging to Farah, Reese and the other girls.Seriously, the life of being their lackey was something she’d gotten tired of.There was a small pause before her mother spoke again. “Is everything okay, baby?”“What do you mean?”Her mother regarded her for a couple more s

That night had been lots of things for Roman, and one word to simplify it all was enraging. It had been all sorts of wrong from the moment he’d seen that guy with Gigi.The bullshit attempt at flirting with her. The little shit had done it on purpose. And Gigi. Sweet little Gigi had been ignoring him ever since the night they had.It infuriated him to no end that he was so bothered by it.“You’d think he’d actually pay us a little attention now that he’s here.”He dared to spare a glance at Lizzy. Lizzy was what one would describe as hot. With her long lashes and red lips that practically begged for attention. She was hot. Hot enough to have anyone’s dick throbbing that the thought of how good she could moan their name.But she wasn’t what he wanted now.His thoughts were occupied by far better things. Specifically, thoughts of a particular brunette that threatened to run him mad.“He’s doing it again.” Lizzy huffed. “You see the way he just looked at me?”“Hey, hey,”His bud, Zane,

“You fucking idiot.”Gigi didn’t think she could fully count the amount of times she’d mentally scolded herself. She was in fact, the biggest idiot of the century.How else would you explain having your step-brother eat you out and enjoying every bit of it? She wanted to stay in a hole forever.It was morning already, which meant the dreadfully long awaited moment of having to come face-to-face with Roman. Crazy how just yesterday, she didn’t seem to be able to get enough of him.“Good morning, sport,” Her step-father smiled as she made her way down the stairs. “You sleep well?”She nodded. “My sleep was okay.”“I slept like a fucking log.”Her body went still as a log. The devil himself had trudged into the kitchen, eyes barely open and the edge of his shirt raised up just enough that she could make out his sculpted abs.“Language.” Her step-father warned.Roman didn’t bother with a banter this time around, a lazy yawn leaving his lips. Then, his eyes landed on Gigi and the whole wor

“Shit.” Gigi didn’t realize when she cursed, quickly pulling the sheets closer to her body. Had she been loud with the moans? God, he must have heard her. Roman’s expression was calm, almost schooled in a way that made her churn. Her face burned from the embarrassment of the whole situation. She’d been touching herself to the thought of her step-brother, and he’d been watching the whole time. She wanted to the ground to swallow her whole and yet, a small part of her felt odd at the fact that he’d been watching her. Not the bad type of odd. Just…enticed. She was a horrible person. “Why’d you stop?” She blinked. Then slowly recoiled. “That’s fucking weird.” “Woah,” Roman chuckled. “First time I’m hearing you swear and it’s in this situation.” Gigi was at a loss for words to say. For starters he wasn’t looking at her like she was disgusting and the look in his eyes bordered more on intrigued than anything. She inched back, hitting the headboard before she even realized it. “I—”