Astoria Greengrass House Novels & Stories

But I definitely did not eye-rape him. "I am so sorry." I mumbled. Is the universe against me or something? "I wasn't looking and-" Okay, maybe I did a little bit of eye-raping. I mean, who could blame me? He's gorgeous. He has sandy blonde hair with some brown highlights. His face is just... pure perfection. Then I realised something that made me frown. Something that made memories of him come back. His eyes were a shade of forest green. Forest freaking green. Ashton. Oh god. I'm not even kidding, I am going to cry.

Chapter 2 The invitation arrived two nights later, printed on the sort of heavy cream stock that cost more than most people’s rent. I traced a my finger over the address “Astoria Heights, the gated hill” and i couldn’t stop my self from smiling. I showed up in a knee-length black trench coat with my stripper costume underneath and stilettos sharp and pointy Inside, he waited in the center of a beautiful lounge, His wrists already offered toward me, rope lay on a side table beside a chrome pole that rose from floor to ceiling.

Roman watched quietly. He told himself it was silly — old traditions and theatrics but something about those footprints… they stirred something in him. Tessa paused and looked down, realising what they meant. She’d left her mark here. In this house. In his life. And neither of them could undo it now. ********** Grayson’s Porsche growled to a stop half a block from the Blackwood estate. He killed the engine, leaned back, and stared through the windshield. The whole damn mansion was glowing.

Everything hurt. I ended the call before she could say more and turned my phone face down in my lap. The drive stretched longer than I expected. We left the city behind, skyscrapers for tree-lined streets and iron gates. When the car finally stopped, I looked up at a mansion that made Ronan's look modest by comparison. Three stories of pale stone and tall windows, with columns framing the entrance. Gregory opened my door and gestured toward the entrance. "Welcome to the Ashford estate."

Lesley gawked at the buildings as she paid the cabman. She took out her phone to cross-check the address. She was at the right place, Greenlands estates. But how?. The house... scratch that.... the mansion was so huge!. she walked towards the huge gates. it opened automatically after a red light scanned her.

“We’re going back to claim what’s left. You deserve that. Your mother’s estate. The foundation she built before Vincent poisoned everything. There’s land. Art. Heritage.” “And ghosts,” Grace muttered. He paused, his eyes softening. “Then let’s face them together.” Ashford Estate, London The gates creaked as they opened, revealing the sprawling Ashford manor. Vines curled around its stone columns. The grand marble fountain had frozen over during the winter, and the rose garden lay withered and bare. The estate looked like a haunted palace, beautiful, tragic, and somehow still majestic. Grace stepped out first. Her boots crunched on gravel, the wind tugging her hair around her face. The last t

Fenella’s POV Repeatedly, I asked Laird about our destination, but he refused to tell me. It seemed he wanted to surprise me, so I eventually just went along with him. As we drove further towards the edge of Astoria Heights, I could only imagine why he would bother to drive here. He parked the car in front of what appeared to be an old house. The house was nestled among rows of other houses with red brick walls. The garage and front yard looked neglected, and I almost thought the house was vacant.

She didn't care where she was going to, she just needed to get away from Ian. She stood on the manicured lawn, her eyes tracing the impressive facade of the mansion. Towering columns framed the entrance, exuding an air of regality. Ivy-clad walls hinted at the passage of time, adding a touch of mystery to the estate. The sprawling grounds embraced the mansion, with well-tended gardens boasting vibrant blooms. A winding driveway, lined with majestic trees, led to the entrance, creating a sense of anticipation. Ashley marveled at the architectural finesse, the mansion standing as a timeless masterpiece against the backdrop of the surrounding landscape.

I needed it. Outside, the road began to curve. The night grew quieter as the city lights thinned into open space. By the time we reached the hills, the clock on the dashboard read 11:42 p.m. The gates of the Astor Mansion finally came into view, tall, wrought-iron gates opening like a silent promise. Michael slowed the car as the headlights spilled over the marble driveway, painting the enormous structure in a golden glow. Even after all these years, the sight of the mansion still stole my breath. Its towers stretched high, windows glowing like stars trapped in stone. But tonight, as we drove through the gates, I realized something—