Chevalier Michel Novels & Stories

Professional, artist-grade paints. "Wow," Ethan breathed. "Real paints!" "Only the best for the artist," Michel said. He stood up. He looked at Aurora. His eyes were warm. Loving. "I missed you, Ariane," he said softly. "I missed you too," she said. And she meant it. He was her family. Her Parisian family. "So," Michel said, looking around the party. "Where is he? The 'Dragon'?" "He's..." Aurora started. "I'm right here."

"Oh? Are you that scared to let Anton find out that we've slept together?" Chelsey shot him a glance. "I'm not scared. I just feel embarrassed." Michel laughed coldly once again. "Don't go all lovesick just because he shows you concern. Do you know what his nickname is, Chelsey? "He's known as the Lady Killer. Do you really think he's that pure?" Chelsey shot him a disdainful look. "What's the point in slandering others?" Michel gritted his teeth as he watched her leave. A sparkle appeared in his eyes before he headed toward the director's office, which was located a short distance away.

Caelyn was trying to resort to his fake tears when his call of death stopped him. Damiel looks pissed off. Uh oh. This is bad. “Caelyn, upstairs now. Michail get packed to switch cover and fuck you.” Michail nodded while sitting with his hands clasped together between his thighs and his head bent to face them while Caelyn looked like he was searching for an escape route. What does Damiel mean by switching cover? Is Michail another hiding lord? Do any families of this line get to be trusted as right-hand men? Heriel’s grin was wide on his face and I wanted to use a knife to carve it out, frame it and return it to him as a gift.

She had a purpose far greater than her fear. “What do you want?” Chateau asked, her voice cold and restrained. “Allow me to introduce myself first,” he said with exaggerated flair. “Lady Chateau, I am Frederic Chevalier. I am the father of Jacques Chevalier, the grandfather of Ellijah Sawyer Chevalier, and—” he paused, relishing her reaction, “the uncle of Leonard Hugues.” Chateau froze, her breath hitching as his words sank in. Tears welled up in her eyes, fueled by a tempest of emotions. Of course, she knew what Frederic wanted. It was glaringly obvious.

Luca, on the other hand, followed me behind my back. Charlotte seemed to have a rather surprised reaction. “Greetings, Charlotte and… her mother, Ophelia Maine,” I said, slightly bowing towards them. Ophelia was mesmerized to see my appearance. “My, what a fine lad you are. May I inquire what business you have towards us?” She asked, observing me from left to right. I chuckled at her remarks and looked at the blushing Charlotte beside her. It seems like the princess didn’t expect that I’ll be showing my presence to her mom. “Pardon me for interrupting your talk. My name’s Damien Yves Etienne—” “Oh my! I heard of you, and your accomplishments!”

The General brought his eyes up to meet the Gentleman, his eyes growing wide with surprise. “Your Majesty. This is my son Michael. He finished his training a few months ago and became a royal Guard. What did you find Michel?” The General said as the Michael stood before us. With a winded breath, he held out the parchment. I took it from his shaky hands, thanking him in the process before unfolding it. In the most horrendous writing, I think I have ever seen, I read it over.

His raging anger cannot be contained anymore. "This is getting boring. Why can't we just kill him?" Sebastian remembered their most respected Chevalier. Hermes Chevalier wasn't even given a chance to bargain for his own life. The old Chevalier died just for a petty reason still unknown to them, somehow. Yet, the sniper in front of them could prolong his damned life by fucking stalling them from the truth.

Only one person dared to barge in unannounced without waiting for a reply from me. Sergei, my closest person barged in with a grim expression. “We’ve got word from Chevalier, he’s been having secret meetings.” The muscles in my jaw tensed. It wasn’t often that someone had the audacity to meddle in my affairs. The French mafia were resilient and headstrong on keeping their power in distributing ammunitions and they’ve become a pain in the ass. Adrian Chevalier is the godfather of the French mafia, he’s been at the top since he took over at the age of thirty and now at the old age of eighty three, the bastard won’t retire.

"Have we met before?" "Yes. A long time ago, but you were too young to remember. Do you think you have seen me somewhere?" he asked with a smile. This man was what most people would call "Matured wine." He was a handsome old man with his white pepper hair. I nodded, and he chuckled. "I'll show you where you have seen me." He walked ahead of me, and curiosity got the better of me. I followed him to a table that had a wide mirror above it.

I swear if they didn't kill him, I would eventually. "We don't kill women unless they're a witness." Pavlo murmured in his thick accent and my eyes widened. Am I a witness? Micah scoffed from besides me. Yurik seemed to be younger than the two but I could tell that he was in charge. How did they expect me to help Micah get out of his debt? Who was this brother he spoke of and was he really as heartless as they made him out to be? Of course he was, it's the fucking mafia.