Dorian Gray Henry Wotton Novels & Stories

When did he start having a boss? I smiled on cue, slipping my hand to his chest, smoothing a wrinkle in his shirt. “I’m gonna miss you.” Henry’s spoon clattered onto his plate, making Monica and Vivian jump. Lydia sighed, rubbing her temple. “Fucking sick,” he muttered. Damian’s head turned like a predator locking on prey. His gaze zeroed in on Henry’s flushed face. “Look at you,” Damian said with a slow grin. “Red’s a good color on you. Makes you look almost alive.”

Henry didn’t move at all. Adrian watched me for a long moment, something in his expression dimming, like he had already calculated the outcome and didn’t like it. “Then we don’t have a marriage,” he said finally, his voice lower now. “And Dorian wins.” I already knew what that meant. I had seen the way Dorian moved, the offers he didn’t bother to hide, the patience behind them. He wasn’t the kind of man who accepted refusal. He turned it into leverage.

It turned out he couldn't let go of that little wicked woman! "Mr. Windsor, I'm worried about Adrian, I want to go check on him," Hailey said to Henry. Henry waved his hand, allowing her to go. He didn't have time to deal with her right now. Edwin, as an onlooker, observed the scene, and a subtle smile appeared at the corner of his lips. Night fell, silent and still. The surroundings were desolate, with only the sound of their own breathing and footsteps.

Before I could respond, Henry's voice came from behind and he wrapped his arms around my waist possessively and responded, “Monica Scott, my wife. What can we do for you, Malton Grey?” Henry raised his eyebrow in questioning and Malton Grey smirked, looking from Henry's eyes to mind. “Wow, she is your wife? I meant no disrespect, Mr Scott. I'm just used to going for whatever pleases me but I can back off now.” He raised his hand up in surrender and I heaved a sigh, like I said earlier I didn't want any attention on me.

How could Dorian not be angry? Drunham City was a small place and nobody met the real Spencer, anyway. Even if Dorian was an impersonator, he would not be worried about people exposing him. That was why Dorian already had an idea at that moment—as long as he insisted that the man at the cottage was an impersonator and drove him out of the city, he would have no competition anymore in the future. Dorian glanced at Wasyl as he said that, telling him what was on his mind. Wasyl immediately understood.

he heard Theresa whisper in a strained tone and glanced up. Turning, Zack and Cassy saw Henry at the same time. He stood several yards away in the narrow corridor that ran between the five-storied buildings, and the expression on his face was not a pleasant one. Lord Sexon and Lord Shallowford were behind him, and a man Cassy did not recognize. "Oops!" Cassy said with a nervous giggle and wondered distractedly why she didn't flee. "It's my husband." The devil, surely, was beyond furious!

“Oh, how can I forget? He killed my wife.” “And you tried killing me for years.” Mum’s eyes seemed to harden. “My apologies, Lady Maurie but unforgiveness has always been my one flaw. But today is a new day, isn’t it?” He grinned and gestured to the lady standing quietly beside him. “Lenora, meet Grimaldi’s only heir, Alpha Dorian Grimaldi.”

I replied to him calmly while he laughed darkly, taking out a piece of paper from his pant's pocket. "This says you pay me the last day of every month Violet, not a day or two days after. Do you think I'm playing with you here?" he asked me, still fuming. Henry was a short man, maybe two inches taller than I was, with light brown skin and very soulless eyes. He was quite an unattractive man. He had even made sexual advances to me when I just moved in here with my mother, of which I had declined then.

Lennon knew it wasn't but he wouldn't dare admit it. Lennon didn't know when they started talking about Dorian Gray but he appreciated the change of topics. “—and then this kid in the front row goes, ‘Dorian’s just misunderstood, he’s an artist,’ like bro, he literally murders people for fun,” Archer was saying, voice carrying way too far for a library. A couple of heads turned from nearby tables. Lennon tried to focus on his notes. The page in front of him had morphed into doodles and swirling lines that Lennon swore looked suspiciously like the tattoo he'd glimpsed on Damien's forearm. He scratched them out quickly.