Angels Flight Novels & Stories

“Dad, I agree to move to Haven State for the arranged marriage. Let’s do it quickly before I change my mind.” Her father, Joe Stone, replied instantly. “Good girl, I’ll have it sorted within a month at most!” Just an hour ago, Tara Stone had been in the backseat of a luxury car, her soft sighs slipping out as Leo Carter kissed her. His phone rang, and he answered in Genovian, his tone impatient. “Calling at a time like this?” The voice on the other end chuckled. “What’s up? Busy with something important? How much does she resemble Nina Lucas?” Leo absentmindedly stroked Tara’s delicate face. “About seventy percent similar. If you don’t get to the point, I’m hanging up.” “Wait, don’t! Nina’s flight lands tomorrow. She’s returning to revive her career back home. I thought I’d give you a heads-up. Nice of me, right? Your first love, your ‘one true love,’ is back. Think you’ll finally ditch the stand-in? What if she won't leave you?” Leo replied coldly, “There’s no problem money can’t solve.” Tara, her head lowered against the seat, felt her tears streaming uncontrollably. Leo had no idea she understood Genovian. Three years of heartfelt devotion, and to him, she was nothing more than a dog.

Three days before my wedding, my fiancé let his childhood friend alter my wedding dress. She even took the eighteen-carat blue diamond from my engagement ring and turned it into a pendant for herself. My fiancé, Lewis Chase, the most powerful mafia boss in Napels, was so afraid I would be angry that he boarded a cruise ship with his childhood friend, Quinn Turner, and left on an around-the-world voyage overnight. Lewis told me, “Eve, Quinn was just being cheeky. Don’t be upset. I’ll get you a new wedding dress and a new ring—the best money can buy. Once you've calmed down, I’ll come back, and we'll have our wedding.” He assumed I would argue and cry like I always had before, but when he returned a month later, he discovered that I had changed. I no longer got angry when he favored Quinn. I even allowed her to move into what was supposed to be our marital home. Lewis thought I had finally become more understanding, so he promised to give me the grandest wedding Napels had ever seen. What he didn’t know was that I had already given up on him. In three days, I would be boarding a flight to Switz. I didn't want the wedding anymore, and I didn't want him, either.

Jeremy Goodman had a bet with his friends that he would win the aloof and beautiful Bailey Scott’s heart in a month’s time. She was the volunteer who was going to donate her kidney to me. Jeremy had spent a fortune on this. I watched as he slowly fell for her. He even ignored the board of directors’ objection and bought the club she worked at. However, he earnestly said, “Whatever that’s happening between Bailey and I isn’t real. Don’t worry, once I win this bet, I’ll propose to you.” I had heard that same promise many times. While he played hero saving the damsel in distress, Bailey overheard the terms of his bet as she stood outside of the private room. She threw a tantrum. Jeremy thought I had purposely let Bailey hear about the bet. In order to appease Bailey, he let her take my spot for the overseas exchange program, which I had spent a lot of effort applying for. “I have the ability to make her save your life, and I have the ability to call off the surgery too. “If there’s a next time, you know just what I’m capable of.” After hearing his chilling threat, I finally let go of this painful seven-year relationship. He broke my heart way too many times, so I hopped onto a flight and left the country.

My fiancee, Emma Jillard's assistant, Charlie Ziegler, loves placing bets. After Emma loses a bet to him, she cancels our wedding for the 19th time because of him. I warn her that if this happens again, I'll marry another woman immediately. But Emma just smiles at me nonchalantly. "You've already donated your kidney to me, Shawn. What makes you think you can marry someone else? Besides, who else but me will marry a handicap like you?" On the 20th wedding, Charlie sends Emma a photo of the airport, where half a flight ticket can be seen. This is another bet that he has made with her. "If you can't find me in half an hour, you will never be able to see me again." Having noticed the destination that's printed on the ticket, Emma rips her wedding veil off her head before rushing toward the airport in a fit of panic. Half an hour later, Charlie updates his social media feed. "Only the one who truly cares for you is willing to overcome challenges for you." Upon noticing the post, I don't bother responding to it. Instead, I quietly dial a phone number that I'm very familiar with. "Eleanor, are you still going to keep your word of marrying me back then?" Her voice echoes back excitedly. "Seriously? Of course! As long as you're my marriage partner, I will forever stick to that promise!"

Jackson Dalton, my roommate, was a deeply disturbed voyeur. His greatest hobby in life was spying on me. Back in school, he stole my underwear. After we started working, he set his sights on sleeping with the woman I loved, Caitlin Watson. Because we were close, he constantly crossed the line, making crude, sexual remarks about Caitlin, who was a flight attendant. "Those legs are insane. Wonder what it’d feel like to have them on my shoulders." Every time he ran his mouth, Caitlin would throw water in his face and curse him out. "Stay the hell away from me, you freak." For my sake, she never called the police on him, but every time he acted up, she made sure to humiliate him in public. The night I successfully proposed, I bought a new house. Jackson showed up with a full set of appliances as an apology gift. Wearing her diamond ring, Caitlin leaned into my arms, smiling like she was the happiest woman alive. All my friends said I was lucky to have such a beautiful and loyal fiancee, who even put my worst friend in his place. Until I got up in the middle of the night for a drink. I noticed the guest room door was slightly open. When I pushed it open, I saw Caitlin wearing a collar and being led on a leash while crawling on the ground.

My mate is Ryder Blackwood, Alpha of the pack. As the approaching bonding ceremony, he tells me that his "savior", Isabelle Morrison, is dying. She took a silver dagger meant for him three years ago. Now she is terminal, and her days are numbered. Her last wish, he says, is to leave behind a pup bearing the strongest Alpha blood. I tremble. "What about me? I'm your only mate." His voice is cold, emptied of feeling. "Don't worry. I'll always be your mate." Two days later, I receive the pregnancy test results. Isabelle is five weeks along. Turns out there was never a choice. All I get is a belated notice. What he doesn't know is that I'm the one who took the silver dagger meant for him three years ago. The healer tells me I have, at most, a month to live. I neither weep nor protest. I cancel the bonding ceremony I've dreamed of and quietly book a flight out. It leaves on the very day of the ceremony. Ryder stands at the venue of the canceled ceremony when my message reaches him. It's my unwavering rejection of him as my mate. That's when he finally breaks. For the first time, the Alpha who controls everything tastes a fear that tears the soul. He searches for me frantically, only to find every trace of me erased from his world.

To protect my boyfriend, Nico, the illegitimate son of our allies, the Moretti family, from their internal power struggles, I agreed to leave New York with him. But on the eve of my adoptive father, the Don of the Falcone family, signing our transfer orders, he backed out. Through the hidden door of the cigar lounge, I heard his right-hand man tease him: "So you really kept up that act for three months just to get rid of the princess?" "But she's your childhood sweetheart. You really have the heart to some miserable fishing village in the Baltics all by herself?" Nico's voice was nonchalant. "It's just an outpost across the pond. How far can it be?" "Scarlett is too controlling. If I don't get her out of the picture, how am I supposed to get any breathing room? Besides, I need to put Chloe at ease." I stood behind that hidden door for a long time that night, my grip on the doorknob tightening until my knuckles were white, before I finally let go. I turned and walked away, pulling out my tablet to change my flight plan. I changed the destination from the official plan of that desolate Baltic outpost to a seat at the High Table in Sicily, which is the absolute center of old-world Mafia power. Everyone seemed to have forgotten. I am the princess of the Falcone family. And he is nothing but filth from the gutter. We were never a match.

Seven years into my marriage to Sebastian, we had our first child. On Logan's first birthday party, one of the old friends Sebastian had known since prep school rattled a little velvet cup of dice in Logan's face and laughed. "Come on, Mrs. Forsythe, humor us. Let the birthday boy roll. A game. For old times' sake." Logan giggled and slapped at the cup. "If he rolls a six," the groomsman went on, grinning sideways at Sebastian, "Sebastian goes and picks Serena up from the airport tonight. Deal?" The moment I heard her name, my blood went cold. I turned to Sebastian. He'd been keeping in touch with her behind my back. All this time. He caught my eyes. He covered my shaking fingers with his and frowned slightly. "Don't be jealous over nothing. We're all friends. It's just a ride from the airport." And then, without quite meaning to, he nodded. Permission given. Logan laughed and opened his little fist. The dice clattered across the linen. A six. "That's fate!" someone whooped. "Serena's flight lands in two hours. You'll make it!" The room erupted. Glasses up. Backs slapped. Sebastian surrounded. His face softened and he turned and went for the door. Watching his back disappear through that door, I didn't do what I used to do. This seven-year bet of mine — I had lost it, completely.

Every Christmas Eve in Port Saint Giovanni, the Camerlano family hosts the Claiming Rite at Saint Giovanni Manor. Twelve girls stand in a line. Whoever receives the white-gold signet pin becomes the heir’s publicly acknowledged bride candidate. I am Grace Sorrento, the bastard daughter of the Sorrento family. If I do not receive that signet tonight, by sunrise I will be put on a plane to Chicago and married off to a Rizzo, a man rumored to have killed two former fiancées. Adrian Camerlano, the boy I grew up with, swore to me in blood three days ago that the signet would be mine. But when the moment came, his hand turned. With a smile, he pinned it on Lucia, the orphan his family had sponsored. Then he leaned close to my ear. "Let Lucia have her moment. No one has ever really looked at her before. Don’t worry. This is my estate. No one will dare arrange your marriage without my say." I grabbed his sleeve, but he removed my fingers one by one. "Lucia has no roots and no last name. Tonight is all she has. But you are a Sorrento. Even without the signet, no one will touch you." That phrase, no last name, drew every gaze in the ballroom toward me, full of pity and quiet mockery. The next morning, I boarded a flight to Chicago. When Adrian heard, he made one call to Port Saint Giovanni Air Control. "Ground every plane. Nothing leaves today!"

At 20, I became known for two things. First, I weighed over 200 pounds, yet I still ended up dating Christian Fairmont, the coldest and most unattainable man in our circle. Second, I turned down Christian's proposal, changed my name, left the country, and became the one woman no one dared mention around him—the forbidden, unattainable love he could never let go. For the next five years, Christian shut himself away in a church and refused to see anyone. Just when everyone thought he was about to become a priest, he suddenly announced his engagement. He made such a spectacle of it that even I heard about it all the way in Goldridge. That alone showed how much he valued his bride-to-be. I booked the first flight home that same night. Everyone who saw me reacted the same way. First, they stared at how completely I had changed, how much weight I had lost, how I looked like a different person. Then they sighed. "Juliana, you came back too late." Even Christian looked at me with cold, distant eyes. "When you walked away and left me behind, did you ever think that five years later, you'd regret it?" Regret? I shook my head. "I don't regret it." I was already married and had a child.