Donovan Lamb Novels & Stories

The room grew cold, and all the medical staff seemed to look at one another, their faces full of hesitant and yet pitying expressions. Reaching for the bottle of Russo-Baltique Vodka, Senator Landon smiled at Dean's confused expression as he looked from Deacon to him and then back to Deacon, saying firmly, “So your so-called boss that wanted to talk with me is Landon Donovan, and that's why you cornered me and drag me here?!” “Chill,” Landon snapped, glaring at Dean through the corner of his eye. Sighing, Dean let his shoulders sag a bit and crossed his arms on his chest, muttering under his breath, “What do you want from me, Donovan?”

Lucy conceded, her expression serious. She'd been a bit angry about the fact that he wanted me to interview him but she got over that…..I think. "Who exactly is he?" I questioned, sipping on some juice. Lucy gave me an incredulous look as she continued," Your simplicity never really fails to surprise you know." I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue. "Caspian Donovan is the CEO of Donovan enterprises, the most desired bachelor in North America." Lucy said, her eyes dreamy.

At the age of twenty-seven, Dawn Daniels had everything anyone wanted — women, money and power. His father was an infamous mafia don, and it was no surprise that he would inherit the family business after his father died from a heart attack. There was no other family apart from the old don who refused to remarry after Dawn’s mother passed away from childbirth. However, the young don always saw his subordinates as his family. In particular, his father’s advisor had always been a big brother Dawn never had. Ricardo was the last person Dawn expected to betray him. Yet, reality was constantly disappointing him.

"Investigate Donovan Tang. Everything. And be careful—don't let his people catch you." Donovan was the crown jewel of the Tang family, a man whose lineage and power were unmatched in the city. Though he was a soldier by trade, his rebellious nature was legendary; he was a man who had walked away from a guaranteed path to the top of the military to forge his own way in the shadows. To those who truly knew him, he was every bit as terrifying as the "Demon CEO" himself. Yvonne Blue watched Chloe leave, a flicker of feigned sadness crossing her delicate face. She leaned toward Xavier, her voice like silk. "It seems Liam Jr. is incredibly fond of Chloe."

“He’s ten.” There was a knock at the door just before Donovan walked in. “Sorry. I’ll come back.” “Don’t worry.” Celt told his brother. “We’re just commiserating how stupid men are.” “Oh, damn, we dumb." Donovan said walking in and closing the door behind him. He smiled as he walked over to the desk. “Shit, you’re the Devil. I just binged some of your fights. Whoever the idiot is, beat the hell out of him.”

“Because that’s the only kind worth playing. I didn’t come here to play easy, and I sure as fucking hell will not allow him, or anyone, to try and fucking scarce me from my goal.” And in the silence that followed, I could almost see it, the look on Liam’s face when he realized his perfect world was cracking. This time, it wouldn’t be through rogues or whispers. This time, it would be with his own kind, his precious businessmen. And I was going to enjoy every second of it.

I screamed, my voice hoarse from screaming into a gloved hand. Donovan didn’t answer. He stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his nose and knuckles onto the concrete. His eyes were wild, unfocused, like he wasn’t seeing me. Like he was seeing red. One of his men stepped forward, hand reaching for him. “Sir, we should get you—” “Get away from me,” Donovan snarled, and the man stopped dead. He looked at me then. Really looked. His face changed. Just slightly. The rage didn’t leave, but something else cut through it. Guilt. Fear. Something that looked a lot like regret.

"How are you feeling?" He's nothing like Damon, and that terrifies me. Donovan steps fully into the room and the morning light from the window catches him properly. I can see him now. Really see him. Tall. Easily six-three. Broad shoulders that fill the doorway but he moves carefully. Deliberately. Like he's aware of his size and trying not to overwhelm the space. Dark hair. Black maybe. Or very dark brown. Cut short but not military. Just practical. His jaw is strong. Sharp lines. Stubble that says he hasn't shaved in a day or two.

Donovan finished for him, “Ain't that the truth. I’m telling you, after that viral video of the fight with your cousin and all the drama that went down, everyone wants to see this mystery chick that the two best players at Westbrook are fighting over." My blood went cold just from hearing him say that, comparing me to that slick bastard. "Since when has Noah been getting called that?" "Since he helped us win against the Sharks," Donovan said matter-of-factly. "You know we couldn't have done it without him, dude. I hate to admit it but the guy is a fucking beast on the field." "You know I would've done it if it weren't for my fucked-up leg," I bit out, huffing with frustration.

A Donovan did not fold under pressure. A Donovan struck back, tenfold. He turned to Damien, his voice low but vibrating with venom. “Get her.”