Booktok Stephen Sanchez 소설 & 이야기

His finger pulled me by the chin to meet his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” I stared into his forest greens, calming instantly as they traced over my features. His lips turned into a smile as he shook his head, as if he could read what I was thinking. “I’m not going anywhere.” His fingers stroked my cheek and I relished in the calmness it brought to me. Placing my head back on his chest, I felt Giovanni shift beneath me before holding out his book. He pulled the pages open and began reading ‘Dante’s Inferno’.

“You're banned from ever coming back here?” Mr Sanchez informed Kathy, his tone cold and with a hint of finality in it. And it was surprising for him to speak to Kathy like that. Knowing about Kathy's background Mr Sanchez always showed her the most respect because he wasn't stupid enough to upset her, but this time for some reason he was speaking to her coldly? He even told her that she was banned from the boutique!

“And we do it without tipping anyone off. We don't want anyone running before we blow the lid off this thing.” “And how do we do that without digging deep into the books?” “We don’t,” he replied. “That will not be helpful.” “It’s not supposed to be,” he said. I stared at him. “Explain.” Zander leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “We don’t go after the transactions,” he said. “We go after the behavior.” “What behavior?” “The kind that creates patterns like this,” he answered. “So you're trying to say that we keep watch.”

For a while, he just stared at me but then shook his head anyway saka mas lalo pang nilakihan ang hakbang nito as he headed to the business section, causing me to half run and half walk just to keep up with him. Goddammit! "Ms. Javier?" "W-What?" I answered with heavy breaths dahil sa kahahabol rito. "Take this." Then he suddenly throw a book that weighs like a bag of rocks to me na taranta ko namang sinalo. "What's this?" Naguguluhang tanong ko rito when he suddenly gave me that gray book. 'Ways to kill competitors' Agad na umarko ang kilay ko when I read those words boldly printed on its cover.

Dr Sanchez drove us to our house before the media embossed us with questions. Later that day... I sat in the living room with the tv playing, a mug of hot coffee in my hand and my laptop open on my lap. To keep me awake for the night I had decided to busy myself by writing a few chapters for my current ongoing book. “Take this dear” Dr Sanchez said, holding out a mug of hot coffee for me to take.

My name: Anastasia Sanchez. “Oh no!” I grunt. I stare at the screen in disbelief, my mind tottering with questions and fears. Still with trembling fingers, I click its title, my heart pounding ever louder in my chest as I face my fears. As the book’s information loads, my eyes widen in shock, my breath is halted at my throat. There, in bold letters, is the announcement that’s beyond dreading—BONDED II WILL BE WRITTEN BY ANASTASIA (ALONZO) SANCHEZ, A GRADUATING STUDENT FROM ADAMSON UNIVERSITY AS PER AUTHOR AGNESS’ PERMISSION, along with a blurb that makes me wanna pass out.

HIM. My stepfather has a son with a renowned Italian model, his previous wife. Artemis Marcello Fernandez. The last time I saw him was five years ago. He was a twenty four year old then. Infamous for his hot and short temper, playboy, a passionate biker, mannerless, shameless, breathtakingly and devilishly tall and handsome, thanks to his Italian model of a mother's DNA. He came to San Francisco two years ago when he was informed about his father's death. After attending the funeral, he left without setting a foot in the house.

Author’s pov Sanchez dragged Steven along the packhouse’s long halls, his grasp unbreakable. Steven fought, his fingers tearing at Sanchez’s hand, but he couldn’t do it. “Let go of me!” Steven hissed, panic rising in his voice. But Sanchez didn’t release him. His face was stone-cold and his eyes were burning with an anger Steven had never seen before. The packhouse doors swung open as Sanchez threw Steven out, causing Steven to roll out onto the dirt.

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Comecei a frequentar a biblioteca municipal, onde lia sobre espiritismo, feitiçaria e contato entre almas vivas e não vivas, enfim, tudo o que pudesse ajudar a salvar Sander. Ficava tão absorta na leitura que nem me apercebia que despertara a atenção de alguém. Era um homem, sentava-se ao fundo da biblioteca, fingindo ler o jornal. Vestia uma capa castanha, apesar do imenso calor que fazia nesses dias. Era robusto, usava uma barba que lhe enchia quase toda a cara e trazia sempre um chapéu de cor cinza.