Abel Ramirez Novels & Stories

Rami goaded him as he hopped up on the table to sit behind her on the table and rested his hand on her shoulder, “a normal man would have introduced himself, wooed her, courted her, and then made her fall in love with him. Instead, you bought her like a freak.” “I intended to do exactly this however things needed to escalate because of Cruz Hawley.” “Donkey Kong!” Rame called out and the group all laughed. “He is so not going to like the nickname,” Presley giggled. “Presley, sweetheart, come out and we can talk.” “No. I’m going to remain right in front of this door to protect my new friends.” Rami’s phone rang and Liborio heard it. “Where did you get the phone?” Rami stepped as far back to t

A the hotty, Ryan Damison walking in the corridor with the undernourished Raj, our department's head. Raj looks like a skinny matchstick while Ryan looks like a huge, thick matchbox. And looks hot, just like a freshly baked muffin coming right away from the oven. His chiseled jawline accentuates his sculpted face that is worth drooling. I want to save his face on my phone’s wallpaper. His shoulders are bulky and broad, muscularly squared and his sturdy hands are in the pocket of his navy blue pants, which remind of yesterday's incident. I hope I didn’t burn Hotty’s balls.

he said smoothly. Amora glanced at him briefly but said nothing. "My name is Jordan Ramirez," he continued, extending his hand toward her. Amora ignored the gesture. Jordan laughed softly, undeterred. "I must say, I’m quite fond of women like you." His eyes roved over her figure shamelessly, but Amora’s expression remained cold. "Unfortunately for you, Mr. Ramirez, you’re not my type," Amora replied icily. Jordan chuckled again, unfazed. "Don’t judge too quickly, Miss Lysander. How about we get to know each other better?"

In the beautiful brutality of protecting what was his. What was ours. The secure line rang. Victor’s voice, low. “We have a problem.” My spine straightened. “Define problem.” “A leak.” “From where?” “Deep. Pre-seeded.” A screen flickered on. A blurred photograph. A shadowed angle. Me, exiting Dr. Riva’s private wing two weeks ago. Head bowed. Hand instinctively pressed to my stomach. The caption beneath it already spreading: SOURCES CLAIM OCEAN RAMIREZ-VELEZ IS PREGNANT

“Uh, if we’re handing out properties, can I get one of your mansions? Preferably the one with the infinity pool and the private theatre?” Elijah rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of his head. “Caleb, you’re the third richest man I know. After me.” “Exactly,” Caleb says, grinning. “And that’s still two spots below you. Help a guy out.” The room erupts in laughter, even Zoe cracking a smile. Elijah shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about freeloaders. Ryder, meanwhile, leans down and presses a soft kiss to Zoe’s temple. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He murmurs, but there’s nothing but pride and affection in his voice.

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

“Never answer back. Never look him in the eyes!” I bit my tongue until it bled to keep myself from responding. Answering would only make everything worse. My vision blurred for a moment. “You should be grateful,” he continued. “He wanted you. He paid well for you.” Before I could respond—or even breathe—the dining room door opened again. My father’s right-hand man stepped in. Ramírez. He entered without asking permission, as always. Tall, with a posture far too relaxed for someone who carried so many deaths on his shoulders.

Fortunately, they decided to move to a separate building because the information they heard afterwards was clearly not something they wanted Haisley to know. Two local men, messengers of Flavia's father, and two foreign men, messengers of Loretta's father, now sat with Dean, Gilbert, Juan, Mr. Luis, and Juan. One of the local men and one of the foreign men handed over brown envelopes that they placed on the table. Gilbert took one envelope from the local man, and Juan took the other. "A man named Ramon, born in Miami, is currently a target for intelligence agencies because he is a major drug dealer. The police have arrested him for smuggling alcohol, but he managed to escape. And now, he is

Money the Bratva gets from subjecting it's citizens to hardship. The smooth, shiny surfaces and custom made sofas do not appeal to me. "Where is Ramsey?" I direct my question at the guard. "Right here." Ricardo and I turn swiftly, coming face to face with Ramsey Mikhailov, the Russian golden boy. He is golden, alright. All bronze skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. Hate churns in my heart. Contempt threatens to choke me. Ricardo places a hand on my shoulder. I look up at him and he nods. I take a deep breath, facing my target.

B And now that she had learned that he was a Ramirez, Amelia was already imagining how she could showcase her connection to Josh to her friends. The idea of being friends with someone from the Ramirez family, particularly Emiliano Ramirez’s grandson, was a significant status symbol. She envisioned herself casually mentioning Josh’s background in conversations, basking in the admiration it would bring. To her, this association was not just about friendship but also an impressive addition to her social standing. However she was slightly saddened, realizing that Josh apparently didn't want people to know about his wealthy background, which was no fun according to her, because what was the point