Devin Booker House Novels & Stories

I feel you; I see you, Take a good view, And get lost through, But do not subdue, Because I got you. I give you one more chance, Password is a word on the street. Turn me over, And oh, you’ll get what you truly desire. The bartender watches me as he wipes the glasses, a curious look dances by his eyebrows as he registers the look on my face. I am left appalled. How does he know what I desire? And who the bloody hell is he? I look down at the card and wipe off the dust at the back. The name is not Dustin, but Devlin this time, and a new desire below the name.

My Emily, I'd kill anyone that lays a filthy hand on her. Devin was still standing at the corner of the barboy. He was on a black padded shell bomber jacket and fitted black jeans. He was quaffing and looking at him turned my tummy. His black hair was neatly cut and it fell on his sides. I kept moving without direction as Devin distracted me and made me swell with so much anger. I stood for a minute and sat at the barboy's stool ordering a glass of distilled whiskey. I was letting Devin get me overly irritated and it sucked.

The pounding at the villa's front door snapped me back to reality. I hauled my pregnant sister-in-law, Sophie Barnes, and my three-year-old nephew, Henry Quinn, into the hidden room of the study. "Gracie, what are you doing? We have plenty of bodyguards at home. There's no need to hide here," Sophie said. "Yeah, Aunt Gracie. Didn't Grandpa say we shouldn't let anyone know there's a hidden room unless it's absolutely necessary?" Henry reminded me.

I sat down on the couch and took out my phone, scrolling aimlessly through reels—anything to distract myself from the image of Lorenzo’s smile and the woman who once owned it. Eventually, I did manage to forget about it for a while, laughing softly at random videos on my feed. I didn’t even realize how much time had passed until I heard the sound of the door opening. “Ethan, make sure to fix my schedule and decline all appointments for the weekend,” Lorenzo’s deep voice filled the room. “Yes, sir. And also, the receptionist said Mrs. Devlin—” Ethan didn’t finish his sentence when he saw me sitting on the couch.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: THE REAL HER NICO ———— It is true that the devil enjoys moments like this. He waits until you are already standing at the edge, already staring down at hell, already thinking about making the wrong decision. Then he pushes. Wrong decisions like wanting to kiss your boss’s wife. Like breaking the contract that you’re so certain you’d never break. Like craving more tastes of the lips that were never meant to be yours. And right now, the devil is smiling.

The ledger burned in her mind long after she escaped the Château. Names. Numbers. Weapons routed through countries that didn’t exist on any modern map. A whisper of war dressed as business. What chilled her wasn’t the scale—it was the familiarity of one name near the bottom. A. Lennox. She hadn’t signed anything. Hadn’t agreed to any deal. But her name was there, under “facilitator,” dated weeks before she even knew who Viktor Novák was.

he tried. He was tying a towel.” I let him draw his own conclusion from that damning evidence. Devin shook his head, with a disgusted look on his face. “I guess he’s more like our father than I thought.” He muttered the words almost under his breath. I had more to confess to Devin, but I couldn’t let that comment just slip by. Devon and Devin’s father, Christian Booker, had always been a bit of a mystery to me. As the patriarch of their family, I found it odd that he had never bothered to speak directly to me, even when I was a guest at his estate. The twins’ mother, Bernice, had always been cordial, and their sister, Hailey, treated me like part of the family, but Mr. Booker didn’t even mak

he takes my hand and I follow him in. I remembered his house like the back of my palm. It had a wooden theme with wide floors and unnecessary numbers of chandeliers. His office was just as annoying as his face, with every corner of the room so was his portrait plastered on the wall, so self absorbed. I turn back slightly and see Justin following me silently and his eyes not even moving an inch from me, with every step I took I could feel his eyes burning into my back. “Sit please” he pulls out a chair for me and I sit, “whiskey?”

“Get Devin.” -

She said, back to her sweet self. "Hello, Dina." I said. "You are welcome in my brother's house, dear. Dev, he's in the study if you want to see him." She said as she turned to look behind her as a small boy came running towards us, flinging his arms around Devon as he buried his sweet face in his side. "Devon!" He shouted, his blonde curls shining in the afternoon sunlight, coming from behind us. Devon laughed as he picked up the little boy.