Davos Blackwood Novels & Stories

Inside, the air was thick with the musk of sex, expensive sandalwood cologne, and the faint metallic tang of betrayal. Damien Blackwood — the man who had built an empire on ice-cold ruthlessness and whispered threats — stood at the window, shirt unbuttoned, silver threading his black hair like cracks in marble. At forty-five, he was still devastating: broad shoulders carved from years of disciplined power, sharp jaw shadowed with stubble, and those bourbon-dark eyes that could strip a soul bare or command a boardroom into silence. He was no cartoon villain. He was worse — a man who had lost his wife young, raised Sophia alone, and buried every soft feeling under layers of control… until Ava

Luxurious, yet dignified in its silence. Neither of them could hide their curiosity—how had Old Master Rosetti even managed to establish contact with the Blackwood family? Mr. Steve Blackwood leaned on a cane. His hair was as white as freshly fallen snow. One glance told you he was already very advanced in age. His fingers slowly ran over the pendant. A single, calm look from him was enough to make the air around them grow heavy—his presence was overwhelming. “Mortensen?” he asked quietly. “Yes,” Ria replied respectfully. “I’m the daughter of the Mortensen family from Avenlith.”

Director Kim was showing his white detention while he spoke. “He is Nathaniel Blackwood, the richest, most feared, cold-hearted, and highly sought after bachelor in Diavolo. Oh, he is also coming out for the governorship position.” I looked at Director Kim who was listening to me with his full attention. “The one any girl in Diavolo will spread her leg for without him asking,” I continued. “The one any girl will say yes to as soon as he pops the question.” “That's what I want to hear…” “That girl is not me, Director Kim,” I exclaimed not sparing a second for him to finish.

She could not continue to do this to Jimmy. Mr. Blackwood is seated in his office, he had just gotten off a call from Botswana, informing him that Darky was still causing problems for the new GM, he was angry and thinking of a way to deal with the matter without starting a life-long rivalry with Darky’s uncle who he was in good terms with. He was still thinking about that when the door was pushed open and Annabel walked in. “Anna… good that you are here, I was just about to send for you.” he said with a nonchalant face, his voice cold to hide his anger.

She knew she had to be well-prepared to impress the clients. The lead client, Mr. Davidson, a stern-looking man with a stack of files in front of him, began the questioning. "Mrs. Blackwood, thank you for joining us today. We're interested in collaborating with your husband's company. Can you tell us about Nathaniel's company's recent projects and successes?"

I find a table in the very back corner, tucked behind a big stone pillar. It’s perfect. It’s dark. It’s invisible. I sit down and open my book—a worn copy of Theoretical Astrophysics. I hide the cover behind a paper bag. If people knew the creepy janitor was reading about black holes, they’d only find a new way to mock me. I take a bite of my apple, my eyes scanning the room. Across the hall, the Knights' table is a scream of noise and gold. They sit in the middle, lit up by the tall gothic windows. Alan Voss is at the head of the table, looking like a king carved out of ice and ink.

the woman scoffed. They reached the woods where a man was sitting on a big rock. He had tan skin, muscular body and black eyes, his hair tied up in a man bun. "Oh, look forest. The adopted son of Maddox Dasher is here," Pedro said in a mocking tone as his finger pointed at Conrard. "Maddox Dasher is here, too..." there came a stern voice of Maddox himself. His face sterner than ever. He was angry. "Oh, my, my. Look at you...the aloha of the Czar pack...the King of the Vegas!" Pedro raised his hands to the sky.

Controls has never been his strong suit. "My name is Mr. R.J Dawson. But you will address me as Mr. Dawson or Professor Dawson. Nothing more and nothing less" his voice was cold and straight to the point. It cut through the air like an arrow piercing everyone’s ear with his dark bass stuffed voice. Mr. Dawson had on a black well tailored suit with a white crisp shirt and a black tie. He looked like he walked off the set of a GQ photoshoot. He had dark hair that was a tussled mess atop his head and sultry mocha brown eyes that usually left those of the female species very very speechless.

David ordered and Blake nodded and walked out with his men. "David wipe that worry on your face because Maya is very good at reading people especially you. " Oscar said and David nodded and they both moved downstairs and joined the party as nothing happened. To be continued

Inside Damon Blackwood carried the weight of an unheard storm. Tall, broad-shouldered, and shockingly composed, he was the kind of man whose presence quieted rooms. Precision cut jet-black hair framed a face made from harsh angles, cheekbones carved like stone, lips set in an incomprehensible line. But his eyes caused the air to stop in her throat. ice-blue, cutting, cold, devoid of warmth. Neither spoke for a little instant. Then he started the quiet breaking. Let's not pretend this implies something. She cut the words over her.