Novelas y relatos de Courtney Blackson

The one who knows exactly what I sound like when I come. Jennifer beams, completely oblivious. “Elena Martinez, this is Damien Blackwood, our CEO.” His jaw locks so tight I’m surprised I don’t hear teeth crack. And every careful, responsible brick I’ve built my life out of? Just crumbled into dust.

Celeste walked in. She was shorter than Nerissa had expected. Petite, compact, with dark hair cut sharply at her shoulder. Her clothes were impeccable, a black blazer, tailored trousers, simple jewelry. Her face was sharp, her eyes watchful. She carried a leather portfolio under one arm and a tablet in the other. She stopped when she saw them. Her gaze moved from Vance to Nerissa. Then back to Vance. "Mr. Blackwood." Her voice was low, measured. "I am Celeste Ashworth. Thank you for meeting with me."

The mahogany bench of the High Court felt like a fortress. Justice Silas Blackwood leaned back, his black robes pooling around him like a shadow. He watched Elena Rossi pace the length of the courtroom. She wore a charcoal suit that hugged her curves, her dark hair pulled into a tight, professional bun that looked like it was fighting a losing battle against a few stray, rebellious curls. "The evidence is circumstantial, Your Honor. My client cannot be held accountable for a crime based on a hunch and a grainy CCTV feed."

"Put on that dress! We don't have all day, girl. The cows aren't going to milk themselves, and we need pluck eggs before the men come home to eat their lunch," I look up and freeze when I notice a stranger folding clothes inside the cabin. It's the same woman from yesterday, Courtney. She is wearing rags again but appears to have taken a shower. Her brown hair is no longer dirty but hanging neatly in a bun. She is way taller than me, with sunkissed skin that makes me extremely self-conscious about my own vampiric looks—while I look like a goth princess with paling skin that always burns in the sun, Courtney looks like a real pretty woman. I already wish I had her curves.

He is the guy that causes traffic, accident, and fighting among the people of city T ( that is girls will be fighting to spend one night with him and guys will be jealous of him because their girlfriends praise him and some of their girlfriends even broke up with them because of him He is no other than KENZO KAREEM BLACK the CEO of "BLAQ COMPANY" and also one of the youngest CEO of city T and the leader of the underground group called "The BLACK SHADOWS" and the first and only son of Mr. Albert Black and Mrs. Roselin Black and he is currently 25th year old and he has a younger sister called Zita Black who will be turning 22nd on the 26th of May. He didn't reply to their greetings and walked

A smirk crawled unto his features as he stretched out a hand for me and I just stared in awe, his words sinking in. Damon Blackwood, as in Black Empire Blackwood. The self made billionaire, that's impossi- I quickly slid my hand into his, realising I had left him hanging. Bad first impression Jasmine! You idiot!! I mentally scolded myself, I needed this job. Don't fuck it up! Don't fuck it up! I played those words in my head like a song on repeat. 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 Her skin felt like velvet against mine. I had to resist the urge to take her hands to my lips to kiss them and appreciate her effortless beauty.

Chapter 9 Caitlyn was standing beside her gate when Martin arrived in his car. She was wearing a black leather skirt that stopped way above her knees, a small white top that clung to her body, a black leather jacket, and a white shoe to match. Martin swallowed nothing as he stared at her. He was mesmerized by her beautiful face and body. He cleared his throat nervously, winded down, and poked his head out a little. "Get in!" He ordered her. She smiled and quickly rushed to enter the car.

I've been good, and I must say life is good. Delcan POV As I looked at Chantelle, I noticed that she seemed distant, as if her mind was elsewhere. I knew that she had been through a lot, and I wanted to help her in any way I could. "Chantelle, I know that you've been through a lot, and I'm here for you," I said. "You can tell me anything, and I'll listen." Chantelle looked at me, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know where to start," she said. I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Start at the beginning," I said. "And take your time. I'm not going anywhere." Chantelle took a deep breath and began to speak, her voice shaking at first, but gradually growing stronger. She told me

She had barely regained her composure from the elevator ambush when the door to Aiden’s office swung open with the force and confidence of someone who believed the world itself paused for her entrance. The figure standing there was none other than twenty-four-year-old Courtney Yates, the second daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Powell Yates. An exceptional young lady on paper, she possessed three degrees in business management, and her parents were long-time friends and business partners of Aiden’s family. She carried herself like royalty, chin raised, gaze sharpened, every movement calculated to command attention.