Brahms X Greta Novels & Stories

The two women in front of Mia moved restlessly. “Although he is very kind, but when he is angry Mr. Bradwood likes to tell guilty people to do things they don't like.” “For example?” Greta glanced left and right before leaning over to Mia. “For example, when I accidentally said something secret to Henrieta about Mr. Bradwood, he punished me for peeling two whole sacks of onions.” Mia looked at Greta who looked tormented remembering the terrible punishment, even Emily and Allana nodded with a sour face, remembering each other's punishment.

I barely whispered. He shakes his head. "You never have to apologize for admiring what is yours. In fact, I have been doing the same thing!" He chuckled as I blushed harder. "What is your name, sweet mate?" I tuck a strand of unruly curls behind my ear. "My name is Virginia, but my friends call me Rae." He smiled. "Rae...I love it. Could you please look at me?" I gulp but comply. "There you are! My name is Braxton, Alpha Braxton Gleason, it's a pleasure to finally and officially meet you!"

“Oh dear,” said Greta with a pleased expression. She looked at Mavis with an amused look on her face and said to her, “It seems like you have gotten your karma.” Mavis gritted her teeth as she looked at Greta. She couldn’t believe that this old hag was not only looking down at her but was also taunting her. Her eyes blazed with anger as she looked at Greta, if not for the fact that she couldn’t do anything, she would have killed this old hag without even batting an eye.

Greta's evil laugh After Greta passed one round, Angela began to move using a regan horse. The Angela movement was so trained that she could immediately master the Gross, which is a horse that is quite difficult to control other than by Regan himself. "He is really amazing. Even the gross did not rebel and instead looked comfortable being controlled by Angela, "exclaimed Dareen.

“When I heard that she was your daughter, I didn’t have any expectations.” My father rushed forward and bowed his head. “She is untouched. Young. Healthy. She can cook, clean, serve. She will not be trouble, and she is here to satisfy.” The man at the table tapped his ring against a glass of whiskey. “You owe the Volkov Bratva three million dollars, Ivan. Not a maid.” “I know,” my father said quickly. “But I need more time. Take her as a sign of good faith. A sign that you are going to get your payment.”

"I said I could get you out if you brought me Isabella. Instead, you left her in Dante's custody and came here empty-handed." "She's not empty-handed." Dante pushed open the door, and we stepped into the study. The room was frozen in time—dark wood panels, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a massive desk covered in dust sheets. Greta stood behind that desk, a leather satchel clutched against her chest. She was older than I'd imagined, her silver hair pulled into a severe bun, her eyes sharp and calculating. "Dante." She said his name like a curse. "I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out."

Without waiting for a response, I turned the handle and pushed the door open. As I stepped into the room, I was met with a sight that was utterly bewildering. There, in the middle of the room, were Greta and Stassie, engaged in a lively conversation, their laughter echoing in the room. It was a scene that was completely unexpected. Stassie was seated comfortably, a sketchbook balanced on her lap. Her hand moved with practiced ease as she sketched what appeared to be a bridal gown. Greta, known for her challenging demeanor, was watching her work with an expression of genuine interest. Stassie would occasionally pause, ask Greta for her opinion, and then continue with her sketching.

I will have a pork chops and another shot of whisky. I nodded while writing on my waitress note. I will have chicken with ginger said Robert taking the menu lists of the table and handling them back to me and a glass of water. "sure and sorry again." "I will let you off this time because you seem suitable"while relaxing on his chair. I raised an eyebrow rich people and their wierdness. The next our passed slowly,the bald head man and his colleagues were getting drunker and drunker each minute that passes,I wonder what Jaden will have to say about their

He looked around as if he was looking for something until his pupils stopped at the sight of one of Diana's cherished, a customized king by GRM's leading brand, ‘RafLuxe’ and a German car brand— [? Ordered from the German, sold with Sidney Goldman's signature in his father's absence to a ‘Donna Quigley Altamira’. The monster is one of a kind. The car Diana had snagged from GRM without apology for mind-blowing price with a codename known to none in the middle of 2017... The deal was finalised... “Who is exactly is this person?” Sidney had asked Maxwell his father's personal assistant. “Some woman with no face” Maxwell had purred to Sidney back at the night he signed the sale without thinking

Greta clicks her tongue out at me as she moves behind me, straightening out the train of the black cocktail dress. “I just don’t think black is my colour.” “You are the epitome of black…black hair, black eyes…” “Black soul?” I chuckle out playfully to Greta. “No…I think your soul could be the purest I have ever come across.” Her words aren’t said in jest, no laughter…no following chuckle. “Wow you almost sounded sincere.” I blast out, filling the awkward silence. “I hadn’t realised how perky your boobs were, you should stop hiding them away.” Her hands pull at mine, yanking them away from my chest to unveil my cleavage.