Blackstone Surround Table Novels & Stories

The table's surface is immaculately polished, reflecting the surrounding opulence like a mirror. Intricately carved wooden chairs with plush, velvet cushions surround the table. Each chair is a work of art in itself, depicting scenes of nature, history, and fantasy in the finest detail. At the head of the table sits an elaborately designed throne-like chair, reserved for the palace's host, upholstered in the finest silk with golden embroidery. A melodic harmony of soft music fills the air, played by skilled musicians tucked away in an alcove, their melodies enhancing the ambiance of the dining experience.

​POV: Ruby ​The mahogany dining table in the central wing of the Manhattan penthouse was completely buried under a sea of textured silk swatches, heavy cardstock invitations, and digital layout blueprints. For the past three days, my world had narrowed down to the fine line between crushed velvet and satin finishes.

Instead, she’ll be having a sleepover at a friends. When I put the finishing touches on the black and white floral center piece, I look around the living room. The theme is a black and white bash, I’ve rummaged through the attic and found some old black and white throw pillows that I tossed on the couch, hung up some sheer lacy black curtains from the windows and crisscrossed them across the ceiling, and set up some clear balloons filled with twinkling fairy lights. The kitchen table is draped with a black cloth and the former sushi platter is spread across white plates.

She enjoys listening to the sound of the waves hitting the rocks below. The balcony was cozy and rectangular, and the concrete balustrades were all around. A thick circular glass sat atop an antique black iron table legs with intricate fabrication. The chairs were of the same black iron, fabricated beautifully. However, cushions were placed for the seating, and below that was no glass. It was iron through and through. Nadie took her time and unpacked her cart of the full breakfast spread, and Aakifahlynn's stomach growled loudly; she had not eaten yesterday.

A small smile dragged at the corner of my mouth. “Then watch closely,” I murmured, stepping into their space. “You might learn the difference.” The table itself was obscene. Custom-cut obsidian framed the edges, polished to a mirror sheen that reflected movement in fractured slivers. The felt was velvet-black, imported, untouched by wear, the kind of surface that existed purely to remind you that losing on it would cost more than money. Stacked chips, layered in precise towers that looked less like currency and more like trophies, won, taken, inherited, stolen – it didn’t matter. The message was the same.

I sent the video to Blake with a text that read, “We just bought this place. I would love your ideas on what you can do for bedroom and living room furniture. A dining table with chairs too.” I had just put my phone in my purse when it buzzed again. I opened the text, “Wow. That is beautiful. I already have the bedroom furniture.” He sent me a text of a beautiful king-size log headboard and footboard. He also sent a picture of a live-edge coffee table and matching end tables. The coffee table had a large stump as the base. I loved it.

I closed my laptop first so I could focus on what Mommy was going to say. He sat on the left while I was on the right. There is a big gap because there is a long table in the middle. It is made of marble and has a vase in the middle. We have a large sofa in the living room that is chocolate colored and on the right and left is a single sofa that is the same color in the middle but its chocolate color is brighter.

Their gazes were cold and sharp, scanning every movement. Any unfamiliar face would be eliminated without hesitation. The air itself felt heavy with tension and violence. The meeting room's dome arched high above, a chandelier inlaid with hundreds of black diamonds hanging at its center. The dim light cast a faint glow over the massive oak table below. The table was carved from ancient darkwood sourced from South Athara's forests, cold to the touch, its grain twisting like frozen serpents. Obsidian chairs surrounded it, rigid and unwelcoming, as if warning their occupants to keep their distance.

Just thinking of what little effort is needed to lift a trunk lid makes my muscles ache worse than they already do. I sigh with relief, stumbling upon a cozy seating space tucked in a corner on the other side of the trunks and crates. There's a pair of ornately carved mahogany wood and rich brown leather padded armchairs angled towards each other. Between the chairs is a small matching wood drop-leaf table that could easily double as a dining table for two if needed. Dropping my heavy backpack on the ground beside me, I examined the top of the table, appreciating the unique hard leather inlay with gold leaf filigree accent along the edge. Glad I noticed the fancy tabletop before almost plopp