Blue Angel Villa Novels & Stories

Mom said and James nodded perfunctorily. “Hi,” I murmured lazily. …. When we got to the Maldives villa, I almost stopped breathing. It was simply too breathtaking. Crystal blue water stretched endlessly beyond the property while warm wind brushed softly against my skin. “OH MY GOD!” Jeanne screamed again. “Stop shouting, Jeanne. You’ve been here countless times.” Lucian scoffed. I almost laughed at Jeanne’s expression. “It’s not your fucking business. I still admire its beauty every time I'm here.”

“Villa Coral Breeze is the other side.” “Yes,” I replied calmly. “We are at Villa Coral Reef.” I paused. Gloss blinked. “Those sound extremely similar,” he observed. “They are not the same.” “No,” the driver confirmed gently. “Coral Breeze is north. Coral Reef is south.” I checked the booking confirmation on my phone. There it was. Coral Reef. I exhaled slowly. “Is this one acceptable,” I asked. Gloss looked around. The villa was still beautiful. Ocean view.

According to his ex-girl, his mate Angel says he's a "creative, fun spirit." Damien had also changed from the Carefree, fun Spirit to a very cold-hearted sarcastic bastard. There is Cora, age twenty, who is mated to Demien. Cora is an extremely warm individual gifted with the ability to love the people around her passionately. She has always had strong maternal instincts, and Cora is very kind and gentle. The people around her are genuinely drawn to her gentle personality. Those always made birthdays memorable by making her favorite breakfast or surprising her during either lunch or dinner with presents. It was her 18th birthday, the day she would find her soulmate, or so she was told, but t

​ALISTAIR'S POV: ​The villa sits on the cliffs of Santorini, white walls and blue shutters and a balcony that hangs over the caldera like it is floating. The water below is the color of sapphires, deep and endless, and the sunsets here turn the sky into something you would not believe if you only saw a photograph. A warm, sea-salted breeze sweeps up from the water below, rustling the linen curtains hanging near the doorway.

and Luca's hand found the small of my back, light but sure, guiding me toward the car, and the words just died somewhere in my throat. The villa complex sat scattered along a cliff above water so blue it looked fake, whitewashed buildings with dark wood shutters, the kind of quiet that isn't empty so much as expensive. A woman in crisp linen met us at the check-in pavilion, all soft voice and softer smile, already scrolling through something on a tablet. "Villa Fourteen for you both," she said. "Ocean-facing, shared terrace, the honeymoon suite configuration you requested... very private, no one above or beside you for the whole stay."

Valentina looked like she wanted to smile again, but she held it back with irritating professionalism. As the jet began to move, I opened the Villa Miravento file on my iPad. An aerial photo appeared: Los Angeles hills, a distant line of ocean, a large white building with a terracotta roof, a long rectangular blue pool, a wide backyard, a curved driveway, tall iron gates. Villa Miravento. Modern Mediterranean. Beautiful. Too beautiful. The kind of house that made people say “intimate gathering” for an event with sixty guests and eight photographers.

“No interruptions. No work. No family drama. Just you and me for the next ten days, baby. I’m going to fuck you in every corner of this island until you can’t walk straight.” His filthy promise made my thighs clench instantly. I leaned back into him, feeling the hard outline of his cock already stirring against my ass through his linen pants. God, this man. The villa was pure decadence—a stunning cliffside masterpiece perched above the sea. White marble floors cooled my bare feet, floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered uninterrupted panoramic views of the endless blue ocean, and an infinity pool seemed to spill right into the horizon.

Not to a car, but to a waiting helicopter, its blades whipping the air around us. We lift off, the glittering lights of the wedding fading below us, and he points ahead to the dark silhouette of a private jet. We land in Jamaica as the sun begins to paint the sky in hues of rose and gold. The resort is a vision of white stone and lush greenery, perched over water so clear it looks like glass. And it’s his. Ours. Silvan carries me over the threshold of the most breathtaking villa I’ve ever seen, a palace of open air and ocean views. He sets me down gently in the center of the room, the early morning breeze carrying the scent of salt and frangipani.

Just peace. Our villa was a dream. Spacious and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto a private terrace overlooking the beach. Two large bedrooms with hammocks and private tubs. The living room had soft couches and a big screen. The decor was minimal, natural materials, soft whites and blues, perfectly complementing the turquoise color of the ocean beyond. Naomi’s eyes widened as she took in the view, a small gasp escaping her lips. She dropped her bag by the doorway and looked around.

I said and held her hand “okay. It's fine by me. But where is it?” “Vitalis Villas in Ilocos Sur Mirrors Magical Island here in the Philippines” “why is the name that long?” “I didn't even complete the name” “what? Complete it then” “Vitalis Villas in Ilocos Sur Mirrors Magical Island of Santorini Greece in Philippines” he said “I'll just stick with Vitalis Villas ” she said and we laughed * * I led her to the room and removed my hands from her eyes. She gasped and covered her mouth