Books A Million Mt Juliet Novels & Stories

Slightly. The ride to the airport was quiet. She fell asleep halfway through, her head tilted toward the window. I should’ve told her to wake up. Instead, I turned the AC down and let her rest. --- We arrived in Chicago just past 9PM. The hotel I’d booked was one of our mid-range partnerships. Discreet, modern, with suites for executives who hated excess but loved privacy. “Only one suite?” she asked, staring at the gold keycard in my hand.

"Mr. Bloom is waiting for you outside. Please follow us." Juliet took a deep, shuddering breath, her fingers clutching her original drafting sheets and her purple flamingo pen against the chest of her fifty-thousand-dollar midnight-emerald gown. "Lead the way." The private VIP corridor behind the convention center was quiet, dimly lit, and blissfully free of reporters. The cool night air hit Juliet’s flushed skin the moment Mark pushed open the heavy steel emergency doors, sending a delicious shiver down her spine.

I tried to explain, looking helpless, “Mam, I can’t even remember anything about that night. Something was wrong with my health. But, don’t judge me for that-” Juliet stood up from her chair annoyedly, she ordered one of her companions, “Call, Mr Hogg and inform him about this lady.” Then, taking a few steps towards me, she threatened, glaring at me, “Are you leaving or should I call the guards?” I looked back into her eyes as I answered sharply, “I need this job. Allow me to meet with Mr Hogg.” Juliet retorted in cold sarcasm, “Do you think that any low life like you can meet him? He is a millionaire. Why will he meet with a beggar like you?”

Juliette sat curled beneath the pale yellow throw on her bed, her fingers trembling around the spine of the journal she had unearthed earlier that day; hidden inside one of the boxes from the boutique Damon had helped her set up. The boutique had stirred something in her. A rush of emotions she couldn’t explain. The smell of fabric, the soft jingle of a bell on the door, the way her hands moved instinctively over the display tables… it had all felt hauntingly familiar.

“Why not?” “I just… I need one last shot.” I shook my head, but I still fetched my checkbook ripping out a page, I handed it to him. “That’s another five million, Caleb. Don’t let me down. If you screw this up, you can count me out.” My tone held a level of finality as I looked him in the eye.

I wondered how she could act so convincingly. Just moments ago, she had rushed back from another man's side. Now, she was playing the part of my devoted fiancee. "I needed money because… I wanted to prepare a wedding gift for you," I said. Juliet's eyes lit up immediately. "Really? I'll look forward to your surprise, honey." I hoped she would like it when the time came. In the following days, Juliet didn't come home. Luke's messages to me, however, never stopped. In a Maybach that had been chosen as our wedding car, the leather seat was stained with large, damp patches. A video showed the area beneath the seat was littered with torn condom wrappers.

Julia's POV I had no idea I would see Mia today. And it's funny because I've always admired her. I'd open her magazine and look at her latest shoot, each outfit she wore, each photo she took—everything was perfect. But now she's in front of me, her heels clicking loudly, her eyes turned to me, giving me a disdainful look, as her life moved from my body to my hand, which was tied to the bed. "Lucian!"

Was she really that friendly, or was it a game plan of some sort. "Juliette." "Oh cool! Like Romeo and Juliet?" "Nope." "Aww, well that's my favorite story, what's yours?" "Don't really have one." "No, girl how can you not have one." Juliette rolled her eyes, giving up on the conversation, and being moderately nice. Choosing a favorite book or story was like choosing your favourite child, and Juliette wasn't into making any rash decisions. Juliette was content listening to Jazz babble, while she concealed herself under a curtain of her blonde hair.

Zara Milli Lane didn’t believe in peace. Not really. Not when it came wearing a suit and offering her champagne. Not when it spoke with velvet promises and burned like wildfire in her chest. Not when it stood in the form of Alec Maddox. The storm outside mirrored the war inside her. Heavy raindrops thudded against the windows of her penthouse, casting shadows on the marble floor. The documents they’d seized from Juliette were now secured, copied, and backed up in four locations. Alec had been meticulous.

My spine started to lean back because if she was too young for this, I needed to end it now but then she kept talking, and her words froze me in place. Juliette picked up her drink and stared into it like it held the goddamn secrets of the universe. “I always wondered what it would be like… being with two guys. One of those filthy little fantasies you don’t ever say out loud. I don’t do this. I don’t even hook up, like, ever.” “Who has the time or energy for that kind of shit? But I am a writer with little to no inspiration and my best friend suggested the club. God, you two are seriously sexy if you’re not murderers.”