Novelas y relatos de Donovan

“Come on, they were not many years!” Sonia looked at Donnovan's face and said, with intense curiosity. “I don't think so! You had a life with her." Donnovan vigorously squeezed Rebecca's hand, and then said, "Don't test me, I Donnovan Osara will only love one woman in this world. No one else, okay?" "Oh, I don't quite believe that. Who’s that woman?" Rebecca smiled as her fingers circled around the table. "I don't like women who have been touched." Donnovan continued remembering his ex-wife had a son with... God's knows who the father was.

Donovan's pride, wounded by their defiance, refused to accept a reality where his power and influence were diminished. As he settled into his bedroom, Donovan's thoughts drifted back to Anna White, the rankless mate of his son, Dante. Memories of the past flooded his mind, images of the torment he had inflicted upon her. He recalled the countless hours spent devising ways to hurt her, to break her spirit. There was no room for guilt within Donovan's heart, only a steadfast belief that his actions were justified.

While I kept tabs on my sperm donor I didn’t care to have any other interest in his other family members other than Oliver. “Now, I did say the family is invited David, and whether you like it or not, Narissa is a part of this family even if she is or isn’t your first born, she is Sophia's sister and Sophia is our son's mate. So can we please just sit through a meal, and if you want to kill each other after fine, but I want one meal together before that.” the Luna moved from her seat, walking towards Sophia and I. “You both are welcome here tonight, come sit and let's eat.” She leads us towards the table, shooting David daggers in warning him to try and throw another tantrum.

Donovan growled lowly as he walked into the office through the back door which was also known as the Vip entrance. After waiting in the VIP preparatory room for some minutes, he was invited out by the host. “I have here with me, Donovan Rolland. One of the most brilliant young men who rose to riches by working hard and smart. He has been ranked as one of the youngest and richest men in the world by Forbes. He is also the pride of America all over the world.” The host announced with a bright smile on her face.

“So what do you hope to gain from being here with us?” “I feel like there’s a disconnect between my mind and body right now. I don’t know if you can tell but I work out a lot,” Iris definitely could tell by his incredibly prominent muscles under his shirt. “And I had a pretty bad knee injury ten years ago playing football and it’s been acting up again.” Donovan was telling the truth. Once upon a time he had been on the track to an NFL career, but a bad injury in college took that away. He didn’t have much of a fall back which was probably why he now did odd jobs and was paid to sleep with beautiful women.

She yanked her boot off the rest of the way and set it aside with the first. Donovan didn't look happy with her. But then again, he'd always been the intense, serious sort. Back in the Set, she'd liked to call him and Alexei the Brooding Brothers, since they seemed to enjoy trying to out-gloom each other. But there'd always been a fierceness to Donovan that Alexei lacked, a hungry sort of energy that was missing from their big Russian teammate. And there was a softness to Donovan, too, a quiet appreciation for beauty and wonder. He never let his male teammates see it, but Sloane had witnessed it f

He shot me a look before turning to me and raking his hands all over his hair. “What are you talking about? I went to New York because my territories were attacked. Why won’t you trust me? If you want a shot at a real marriage you’re going to learn to trust me.” “How can I trust a mafia don? All you people think about is money and sex and power. Plus, you haven’t proven to me that you can be trusted.” He sighed in frustration and looked away. Cars drove past us as we remained on the side of the road in silence, the silence in the air carrying thick tension.

If he can reconcile his past with a more compassionate perspective, it might lead to a shift in the dynamics here. I hold on to this new piece of information, hoping it might serve as leverage or at least give me a better understanding of how to navigate my situation. The knowledge that Donovan’s actions are fueled by deep-seated pain and prejudice complicates the situation, but it also presents a potential avenue for empathy and negotiation. For now, I remain vigilant, waiting for the opportunity to use this understanding to my advantage. •••

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.”

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, slurr