Donovan Black Novels & Stories

I said. Donovan began to laugh loudly, “You can't imprison me!! I'm Donovan, like it or not I'm still the alpha's advisor.” “Previous advisor! And don't forget you had to blackmail your way there.” I slammed my fist on the table as I yelled, my fury reaching a tipping point.

he deadpanned. Donovan and our father always seemed to be at odds with one another, but at the end of the day, we all still cared about the old man, no matter how rough it got. Donavan grinned, his drunken charm evident even in the most serious of situations. Crystal blue eyes were the gifts of the Sullivan gene. But unlike me, Donovan's hair was Auburn in colour, just like our mother's while mine was black as night. “Good to know. We still need him around to keep you in line.” he turned to me.

Keid stood and walked after him. “I am still speaking to you!” She snapped and followed him. “I am not ready to get married, woman!” Donovan turned to her suddenly. Harsh breath left his nostrils and mouth, he frowned deeply as he looked at her. Mrs. Keid flinched when he turned to her and yelled, she knew he was a package filled with anger but it had never gotten to this point. Donovan turned to one of the wardrobes which was filled with clothes, he slid his hand through the well-folded clothes and picked out a black shirt.

Donovan’s anger is cold and steady; his hunt for the traitor is not a burst of fury but a calculated tightening of the noose. I lean against a cold stone pillar, hidden in the shadows, and my mind drifts to Damien. His decline into chaos is a stark contrast to Donovan’s cold control. Damien has become unpredictable—a storm of rage and sorrow. I remember a time when his eyes shone with purpose. Now they are dull and haunted, as if each drink steals a little more of him. I recall a recent night when I heard the crash of shattered glass in his private chambers. I crept near the door, heart pounding, and heard his voice—harsh, slurred, lashing out at someone who dared come too close. I had to hi

"This face… It's exactly the same as mine when I was young," Mrs. Blake said. Mr. Blake and Mrs. Blake hurried over, trying to help me up from where I was being held down. Julia rushed over and quickly spoke up. "Mrs. Blake, please don't fall for her act. She's an expert at pretending to be pitiful. "This shameless woman is Mr. Donovan's ex-wife. She cheated on him with a driver during their marriage and got pregnant. She even blackmailed Mr. Donovan into paying an outrageous divorce settlement. She has no shame at all!"

This is the only way Don Black would give an appointment to see you because, as we speak, he's on his way overseas. My anger boiled as I realized we had been tricked. We could walk away now and no one would be hurt but I didn’t think Gio would want that. "You could trick him again. How can you be sure Don Black would show his face next time?" I asked him. Santiago smiled at me. "Don't forget that Don Dawson never booked an appointment. This is an invasion of privacy, but Don Black is kind enough to make an exception because he needs something from Don Dawson too." Things were getting out of hand and I felt like a traitor for not having told Gio about the depth of my involvement but I feared

ordered Peter. Thaddeus raised his hands in surrender, but the scowl on his face promised retribution. My eyes jerked to the largest guy in black, the one who had ripped out the woman's throat. He was one of my personal nightmares come to life. Donavitch. Terror froze me to the spot as I remembered how powerless I'd been against him, how he had sucked the blood from my neck in sickening gulps, paralyzing me.

He was almost about to savour the tranquil water when the door of the room was opened disturbing what must had been a serene morning. Donovani Adios carefully looked back, and said. "Sí?" His voice was strong and steady despite his age. "Who are you-" his voice fell silent as two men, dressed in all black, wearing all black masks stepped forward. I could saw him blanch, his mouth opening and closing in wordless shock. His free hand gripped convulsively at his sides but missed the rail of the walker, and I hold my breath as he stumbled. To my relief, he managed to catch himself on the edge of the counter. As frail as Dante's father was, the fall would had easily killed him.

He looked terrible. Unshaven. Bloodshot eyes. Wrinkled suit. The once‑powerful Don now looked like a homeless man. “Valentina,” he said. His voice was barely there. I glanced up. Then back at my papers. “Please sit, Don De Luca,” Vincent said, gesturing to the chair across from me. Alessandro didn’t sit. He walked straight to me. “Valentina. I need to talk to you. Alone.” “There’s nothing to talk about. Please sit. Let’s begin.”

Kimberly finishes, startling me with her sudden reanimation. Davon turns to her, leaving me to stare at his back. His broad shoulders look tense, telling me that my words had some affect. I wonder if I’ve hurt him? The thought is like barb wire around my heart, trapping me in regret even as reason tells me I should have none. I’m not wrong and he needs to know that, whether it hurts him or not. “It can’t be remedied,” he tells her, stepping closer to the angry young woman, “Now, it’s time for my payment.”