Novelas y relatos de Damon Salvatore Wife

Damien said, ignoring Enzo's scream. "What's going on here?" Damien turned around as he heard a female voice behind him. He thought she was one of the strippers judging from her heavy makeup and large fake breasts, but she looked much older than the other girls. She wore a top with spaghetti straps and a skirt that barely covered her butt. "Nothing you should be concerned about, sweetheart. Why don't you go back to work? This is between your boss and me," Damien said. "He is my husband! What did you do to him?" she gasped. She stormed toward Enzo and knelt down.

“Oh no, you don’t get to play silent right now. You don’t get to dominate and disappear when it’s convenient. You fucked me. On the floor. Against the wall. Folded me in half like a fucking paper doll. You told me to take it. And I did. I gave you everything. And now I’m standing here looking at this woman—this woman in pearls and silk and grace—and I’m asking myself what the fuck I am to you. Because I don’t wear pearls. I wear pigtails and lip gloss and call you Daddy while you fuck the sanity out of me.” My chest was heaving. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I tasted salt. “So tell me, Damon. Where is she? Where the fuck is your wife? Because this photo—this perfectly preserved, p

Except for Damon Roche, who stood in the far corner, a glass of what was likely very expensive liquor in hand, conversing with another man. It was unusual for him to be at The House these days and especially without his wife. Though he still oversaw the running and operation of The House, since his marriage he’d devoted most of his free time to his wife, Serena, and Derrick had mentioned that Damon and Serena now had a daughter. Damon glanced up as if sensing her scrutiny and nodded his head in acknowledgment of both her and Ken. Then he said something to the man beside him before excusing himself to cross the room to where Karla and Ken stood.

Damon goes through the details and nods slightly, he hands the iPad to his assistant. “Let’s go” he takes her by the hand and walks her inside. He was not only known in the entertainment industry but all over the country and abroad, everything was carried out swiftly and soon the couple walks out. Jane felt meeting Damon is the greatest luck she has encountered in her life for such a long time. She held her marriage certificate tight. She was no longer single, she was now a married woman with a fire of vengeance ready to burn down her ex to ashes.

I sat on my swivel chair while leaning my head, “Okay, what is it?” “I saw your wife.” My heart suddenly skipped a beat after I heard my wife’s name, so I asked. “How do you know her? and where did you see her?” “In Ibiza.” “Ibiza? How come she was in Ibiza…all along? Don’t tell that she has been kidnapped by a notorious vampire? Is that what you mean?” I stood up and waited for him to answer me. Damon said. “Yes, and I know who was the one who was behind all of these evil schemes. Salvatore Pete! First, he took my son away from me, and now….he’s with Catalina Sullivan. Your wife, your wife has been missing for three weeks….”

He asked. "Damon." I stand and moved closer to my husband. "This is Mr. Nick Wilde. My boss." There was an awkward silence between the three of us and I hope it's not doom's day today. Nick stands, "It's nice to finally meet you." He says while extending a hand. Damon accepts it. "Pleasure's mine. I'm Damon Patricks. Savannah's husband." "Yeah. Heard a lot of stuff about you Mr. Patricks." Nick says.

"Come on, Damon. Are you married to anyone else beside Bella." "That's not my wife. I already have a wife." "What wife? That same bitch who killed Richard Cross and ran away?" "Enough!" Damon roared, slamming his hand on the desk and looking at Moore for the first time since he stepped into the room. "Amber is my wife and you will treat her with respect." "Respect?" Moore sneered. "You should be ashamed of yourself. That woman murdered your father. You should be putting her ass behind bars, not calling her your wife."

Dante says giving no room for objection. Hissing, I nodded and entered the office, walking into Salvatore’s cold and void office. The only picture of his family is on his desk, and that is only his daughter smiling brightly as the sun in the picture, with his hands wrapped around her. Salvatore killed his wife because he caught her fucking his driver. Whatever happened to the poor guy, no one knows, but rumor has it that he is in a locker room somewhere in Leone’s mansion, being tortured till date.

I excused myself from the conversation with a word and began moving toward her. I was halfway across the room when a voice rang out behind her. Clear and loud enough to carry. “You must be Mrs. Salvatore.” A brief pause. “Luciano’s wife.” The words landed like something dropped into still water. The ripples spread immediately. The men I had just left paused their conversation. The young woman talking to Ella looked up. Heads turned to that vicinity. Ella turned. I turned. Damien Ross stood behind her, hand extended, wearing that smile.

Every month, for the last year, a payment of five thousand dollars had been made to a "S. Blackwood." S. Blackwood. Damon’s mother was named Sylvia. But Sylvia had died in a car accident five years ago. I’d seen the photos. I’d seen the grief in Damon’s eyes when he talked about her. My hands began to shake. I looked toward the stairs, toward the room where my husband was sleeping—the man I thought was my rock, the man who told me to "relax" while he was secretly funding a dead woman and buying a secret home in the city.