Novels by Glamour St

AngelThe car ride was excruciating. I sat rigid in the back of the sleek black sedan, the leather seats cold and unforgiving against my skin. Drake Crane sat beside me, equally motionless. Every breath I took felt monitored; every movement was scrutinized by the man who now owned my time.My mind drifted to a soft, impossible fantasy. I had always imagined my wedding day would be warm and filled with quiet joy. I would wear a light, flowing dress and walk toward a man whose eyes held warmth. We would have a home filled with the scent of old books and morning sunshine.Now, my reality was a silent, speeding luxury car driven by a cold-eyed stranger.The drive wasn’t long. We moved from the glass towers of the city into the exclusive, tree-lined hills. We passed through massive wrought-iron gates with a sharp, absolute engraving: CRANE.The car stopped before a modernist structure, a vast complex of dark stone and glass that looked more like a fortress than a home. Grey opened my door.

DrakeI watched her sign the paper. The pen scratched against the heavy bond of the legal document, a sound that felt as final as a gavel striking in a silent courtroom. Angel Molley she looked anxious but she didn’t break. She signed the name Angel Crane ""The nightmare is just beginning.She looked at me, the fearful girl last night could no longer be found, she seems courageous and read no meaning to it, I wish she did."Mrs. Crane. We leave now."She immediately dug in her heels. The calmness she had on her face was gone, replaced by a jagged defiance."Wait," she snapped, her eyes flashing. "I’m not going anywhere until I see my father. I need to get my clothes, and I need proof, real proof, that you’ve moved him to a good hospital.I turned away from the window. The orange glow of the morning sun silhouetted my frame, casting a long shadow over her. "You underestimate me, Angel. I do not play games with variables I cannot control.""I don't care about your variables!" she cried

AngelThe luxury of the pent house felt like a gilded cage. I didn't care about the silk sheets or the view of the city lights that stretched out like fallen stars. I spent the night huddled on the floor by the window, my knees tucked to my chest. I cried until my throat was raw and my eyes felt like they were filled with sand.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the vial of white powder. I saw the cold, accusing look in Drake Crane’s eyes. I thought of Papa, lying in that small, dark room, waiting for a daughter who might never come home.I eventually fell into a shallow, restless sleep on the carpet.A sharp knock on the door woke me before the sun was even fully up. Two women in gray uniforms entered. They didn't speak. They moved with a quiet, robotic speed."What is happening? Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice cracking."Bath is ready, Miss Molley," one said. "Please. We have orders to prepare you.""Prepare me for what? Jail?"They didn't answer. They washed me and dres

DrakeI don’t know why I felt she was innocent when she said so, but I believed herI looked at the girl. She was a ghost, trembling on the floor, her eyes wide and wet. The once bold and courageous lioness could not be foundShe shook her head violently, her hands splayed out on the marble. “I didn’t do it. I swear. I didn’t,” she said“Swear to who?” I asked flatly. I didn't want a confession; I wanted the truth, and she looked too small for such a heavy crime.“To God. To anyone.” Her voice cracked, a jagged sound in the quiet suite. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I’m just a waitress.”“I---” She swallowed, her throat moving in a hard gulp. “I carried the plate. That’s all. They gave it to me. The supervisor... he told me to come here.”Silence fell again. It was thick, heavy with the scent of a trap. I stepped away from her, the gears of my mind turning. This was too clumsy for a professional hit, but too perfect for a frame-up.“Not a word of this leaves this floor

AngelThe room was silent, the kind of silence that feels like the air has been sucked out of the space. Drake Crane didn't let go of my wrists. His grip was strong, cold and unyielding."Who sent you?" he repeated. His voice wasn't a shout; it was a low, lethal whisper that made my skin crawl."I told you! I'm just a waitress!" I gasped, struggling against his hold. "No one sent me!"He shoved me back slightly, though he didn't release me. He gestured with his chin toward the silver tray I had just placed on the table. "Why did you poison the food?"I froze. My heart skipped several beats, then began to race so fast I felt dizzy. "Poison? What are you talking about? You haven’t even touched it. You haven't even taken the lid off!""I don't need to taste it to know a rat when I see one," he snapped. "You followed me from my office. You showed up here, in the one place you shouldn't be. You’re either the world’s unluckiest person, or you're a very bad assassin.""Assassin?" I let out a

AngelSilence enveloped the room for some seconds, and then he said"The door," His voice was a low, dry rasp.I felt my heart stop. "Sir?""Use it," he added.I stood up, my legs feeling like water. My folder felt heavy, filled with pages that were now useless. I didn't say a word. I couldn't. I turned and walked out, the click of my shoes sounding like a funeral march against the marble floor.Once I reached the street, the humid air hit me. I walked away from the glass tower of Stellar Media, my vision blurring. I didn't cry for my pride. I cried because of the promise I made to the man waiting for me at home.I hailed a cab, my mind spinning. How am I going to tell him? I thought. I needed that money. The medicine, the rent, the debt, it was all resting on a job I had just lost because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.When I got home, the smell of old wood and sickness greeted me. I walked into his small bedroom. He looked so thin under the sheets, his face pale and tired."Angel?"