Calling Kettle Black Novels & Stories

"Sir." "Take her to the East Suite. Lock the digital bypass. She’s a ward of the state now—my state," Killian poured a glass of scotch, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light. "If she tries to use a phone, I want to know. If she cries, let her." "Killian—" I started, stepping toward him. He turned, the glass halfway to his lips. "It’s 'Mr. Blackwood' when we’re in public, Elowen. And in private, well... we’ll settle on a name when you’ve earned the right to speak it."

All I just wanted was some peace. My head throbbed hard from all the crying, and as I strode through the house, I caught sight of Kelvin. “You up early. How do you feel?” He asked, dressed in a brown leather jacket, black singlet and black pants with a black belt with silver buckle. He had a sunshade on with light orange-like glasses. “I have a meeting with a company in thirty minutes.” He explained. I nodded, my throat clogged. “What would you love to eat so I can get Anna to make it?”

5:43 AM – Penthouse, Kitchen The kettle switched off, steam winding up in soft spirals. Elira picked up the mugs—hers with a chip near the handle, his inscribed delicately with initials from a previous retreat. Habit held the moment steady. Caelan came barefoot, kneading the back of his neck. "You got an early start." "We're behind on scans of the blueprint. I thought caffeine would make it less necessary to pretend we're not.

The silence on the executive floor was instantly shattered by a deep, thunderous baritone voice. "Hellena, come into my office. Now." Hellena flinched in her seat. She quickly ended the call with the dance studio before looking up at Kael, who was already standing tall in the doorway. He stared at her with a pair of sharp black eyes that gleamed dangerously, radiating an overwhelming aura of darkness. His jaw was rigidly clenched, as though he were restraining an outburst of anger that could erupt at any moment.