Novel & Cerita Claimed Book

He always says seeing me is his good luck charm. "I see you got a new car." I say to the man as we continue on our journey. They've seemingly upgraded from a smaller Land Rover to a much bigger and darker one. Ezra is getting more and more famous every day and I guess they wanted something a little more private and intimidating. "Yea. He's always wanted this one." He says. I pick up the flowers that are placed next to my seat with a box of chocolates and a teddy bear. I take out the note that reads,

Jenna asked in concern. That provoked Richard into shouting even louder, "Ms. Close, do you think Hank is a good man? He's only getting close to you for an ulterior motive! That fire was just a show put on by him and your competitor so that he could win your trust! "I have the evidence! You'll know once you see it!" Richard kept shouting as he explained, doing his best to prove he was telling the truth. Jenna gestured to one of the bodyguards, who soon found a letter.

Small frame dark wood and a painting of freesias done with the careful loving detail of someone who knew exactly what they were painting, and exactly why they were painting it. I spent a long time walking the shelves. Italian poetry, English novels, philosophy, architecture and a whole section of local history so detailed it must have taken years to collect. Some of the books were so old the spines had softened and the newer ones sat beside them without any particular order, like a room full of books gathered purely by someone who loved them rather than someone trying to organize them. The older ones had handwriting inside the covers. A woman's handwriting in dark ink that was looping and pe

I gathered the broken jar and its spilled dust, and tossed it into the refuse pit. The crunch of glass was loud. Silas’s golden eyes narrowed. A flicker of something—irritation, or perhaps the ghost of loss—crossed that perfect, cruel face. I smiled, showing teeth that didn’t reach my eyes. “You’re right, Alpha. Worthless things, dirtied and broken, should be thrown away.” Including my stupid, ill-fated heart. I looked away from his suddenly darkened expression and pulled the Withdrawal Declaration from my oil-skin pack. “Alpha, this is my formal—”

She felt certain she had seen the handsome stranger before, perhaps in a society magazine or at some high-end event, but the memory remained just out of reach. ​Then, the true distraction arrived. The door to her small office swung open. Margo Osborne, her work friend, strutted in, her eyes positively brimming with the smug joy of a person holding forbidden knowledge. ​"Have you heard?" Margo asked, clearly thrilled to be the bearer of trending news that was, ironically, being ruthlessly shushed by the top bosses. The story was so sensitive it had already become a corporate crime for anyone in their organization to publish the details, which only made Margo's scoop more precious.

There was an entire seating area there, along with a bookshelf filled with books alongside it. Mouth hanging open, I stepped further into the room and inspected the bathroom. I let out a gasp when I spotted the huge clawfoot tub and marble everything. But it was the wardrobe that really stopped me in my tracks. It was a walk-in closet filled to the brim with racks upon racks of clothing—gowns, intricately embroidered sets that looked like something out of a fairytale, even an entire section dedicated to silk pajamas. It was everything a girl could ever need, much more than I had ever had.

Then I make for the back door. The door has three locks and a metal bar I’ll never budge. But I’ve memorized one single weakness: the latch was replaced last month and sits loose at the top. If I can get the bolt, I can pop it. The bolt squeaks under my fingers. I hold perfect still for a breath. The world is hush and possibility.

I pulled another one out and was about how to buy your time, authored by Dan Martell. Again and again, nothing I found was useful. I nearly gave up when my eyes fell on a bigger book. It was actually one of the biggest books there. It had a yellow cover and I pulled it out, and glanced at it, my eyes glinting at the title, ‘Werewolf And Its Powers’. Flipping through it, the first pages had no significance so I kept on turning pages, hoping to dig out what I wanted. And eventually I paused, stopping to read what it was written.

Rafael Moretti ~•~ I saw the headline at 8:09 a.m. I hadn’t even showered yet. I was still in my pajamas, holding a half cup of coffee as I scrolled through my phone. The coffee burned my throat when I swallowed too fast. I clicked the article. They’d dug up every blurry picture and video they could find of her and Nikolai, twisted the timeline, and slapped together theories that made Serena sound like a cheap opportunist. They implied that she traded one billionaire for the other.