Book Beautiful Mind Novels & Stories

I raised a brow, putting one and one together. Beauty. Money. In private. Clients. Prostitution? Prostitution. “Are you talking about….. sex?” The left corner of her lips curled into a smirk as she raised her hands, clapping like a Disney princess. “Beauty plus brains.” “I thought this was about art.” I froze. “I thought…” My voice cracked before the sentence could find its strength. “I thought this was about art.” Rihanna tilted her head, studying me like I was some naive little girl who still believed there were monsters under her bed.

The worst thing would be her falling for a fantasy. "At my apartment, okay? That is home, and this is not." She bristled, walking past me to take the books out from the box while I sat down and watched. In order, and with precision, she began to fill the shelf. Spoke to me with her back turned, a huge encyclopedia of mental health in her hands. "Hendrix, let's not make this difficult. You stole six months from me, and I accepted my fate. I'll play along, but will not be giving up my sanctuary on a capricious tantrum. When this is done, that is where I will return. Back home." "That I can accept..." I began, then trailed off. Beau was bent at the waist, picking up one of the romances she was

He flipped over the front of the book to see the title. It was Dostoyevsky’s The Idiot. “Well, that’s fitting,” B laughed and closed the book. He fell deeper into the recesses of the chair. He brought the glasses up to his face and thought, If this is what an estate man does, then let me be an estate man for just a couple of minutes while the whiskey does its work. B let Dostoyevksy’s words run through his mind like a new mantra — it’s life that matters… the process of discovering… the everlasting and perpetual process… — and slid the glasses onto his face.

8 I stare at my laptop and I'm almost half way through finishing my article. For some reason, my mind couldn't stop thinking about that curly man named Benedict Styles and how mesmerizing and striking he is. He has this huge impact on an individual just by being himself and that's crazy. Even the thoughts of him still send shivers down my spine.

He was lost in his thoughts, still staring at Alice. "Is something wrong, sir?" Alice asked, looking at him. "No, it's nothing." "Well, then I'm leaving, I'm going to organize everything." Alice got up from her seat, walked to the door and closed it. Alice sat at her desk, put her notebook on it and leaned her head on the desk. "Why can't I keep looking at him when he sees me? He has a beautiful look, those eyes hypnotize, I don't want to look stupid in front of him."

Taking in the disarray of my home, he couldn't help but ask, "Bro, were you trying to turn the place upside down?" "Lawrence… all six million in my accounts is gone…" "What? Are you kidding?" As I slowly calmed down, I explained to Lawrence what happened the previous night—the purchase of the health supplements, my passionate evening with a celebrity-level beauty, and how Nancy had given me an aromatherapy massage that put me to sleep. Lawrence's eyes widened after he heard my story. He exclaimed, "Winston, you might have fallen for a health supplement scam!" "A scam?"

We arrive to a very pretty coffee shop named Beehive, with an even bigger bookstore next to it. "Wait! This is Dean's bookstore," I gasp when my two functioning brain cells finally connect. Madison nods and takes a seat at one of the little tables outside, "Wait, wait, let me take a look." I walk to the bookstore and look in wonder, it's even bigger and fancier than he described. I don't walk into the bookstore, I just look from the outside like a creep. I can see big posters of a Tundra Magazine, one of them is a huge poster of my mom looking like a goodess, with her blonde hair blowing and her white gown looking like it was painted onto her body.

At the same time, I told her I would definitely be a long-term client. On the surface, Janet looked like a carefree, wealthy, beautiful socialite. No one would guess how she was really making her money. She was completely lost in that illusion. That day, she sent me a picture of a limited-edition designer bag. [This one requires a purchase history of 200,000 just to qualify, and there are only a few in the whole country. I managed to get one.] Then, she added, not even trying to hide the mockery. [Sure, your family has money. However, all you can do is carry those basic, overdone bags. And let's be honest, no guy would ever want you anyway. Kind of pathetic, don't you think?]

He took a slow breath and let it out. "She was good," he said. "I mean actually good. Not the performance of it but she was." He paused. "I met her when I was twenty-five and she worked in a bookstore on the west side. It was a small place and she reorganized the whole crime fiction section so that all the mob books were spine out." He stopped and almost smiled. "Said she was tired of glorifying men who hurt people." Bella laughed softly. "I like her already."

Ivy tugged at my sleeve and fretted, "Have you lost your mind? Are you seriously going to let them get away with this?" I smiled because I finally understood why Sophie had always known what I was thinking before I did. She hadn't used a hidden camera or any kind of AI algorithm. She definitely couldn't read minds either.