Dr John Dorian Novels & Stories

I didn't understand what the kids meant when they'd told me about him, but as I stared at his icy blue eyes, it suddenly made sense. They were icy blue chips that radiated an aura of power I'd never seen before. Black ink swirled around his body and I could tell thanks to the black hue peeking out from the collar of his shirt and the sleeves of his suit jacket. A lip ring grazed the corner of his lips and I wondered just how it would feel to run my tongue against it. He was the human reincarnation of a Greek God, and despite looking so mean, I found myself being drawn to him.

“Um…what, sorry? Oh, where I’m from? Downtown by the courts. What’s your name?” “Dorian,” was all he said. There was a brief pause in my expression before reality crashed down heavily on me. How could I have missed it? That unrivaled air of authority, the god-like aura, the wickedly sexy looks. Only one family in North Creekville had perfect command over things like this; the Grimaldis. Not just any Grimaldi, Dorian Grimaldi. The same Dorian Grimaldi who owned Creekville’s biggest club, Ace. The same Dorian Grimaldi who was the only heir to the Grimaldi empire. The very same Dorian Grimaldi who was notoriously known for his reputation as the most unattainable man in the city. Yes, that same

Soren shook his head,“I was younger when he disappeared, my father stopped talking about him after that.” I turned back toward the window. For years, I had believed my father's disappearance had left me with the only unanswered questions, now I was beginning to understand that Soren had grown up surrounded by them too and either of us had chosen this. But somehow, we were standing in the same place. My phone vibrated, Marcus calling. I answered.“Hello, what did you find?” His voice came through immediately.“Something useful.” Soren's eyes shifted toward me. I put the call on speaker, Marcus continued. “I searched the old personnel records using Dorian's name, he was not just an associate, th

Natalie Jett's first love needs a mobile blood bank. But she's going to drain all the blood from my comatose younger brother due to me not arriving in time. I drop to my knees and beg her desperately. "Micah is already showing signs of waking up. The doctor said he'll die if you keep taking his blood. Take mine instead and leave my brother alone! Please!" But Natalie remains unmoved. She looks coldly at me as I kneel before her on the ground. "This is your punishment for being late. It's only some blood. What's the big deal? "Andy is severely anemic. He's the one who could actually die. Is your brother's life really more important than Andy's?" Ignoring my pleas, she orders her priva

"It wasn't a performance, Dorian." "Oh, I’m sure it felt real to you, Elias," Dorian said, standing up and tossing his napkin onto the table. He looked at Roderick, a cruel glint in his eyes. "But I know exactly who your 'boyfriend' is. You see, I did my own background check when your father hired him." Roderick felt a cold sinkhole open in his stomach.

His voice sounded rough, like the topic scraped something raw inside him. But still Brandon didn’t give up. "Yeah… I know. But I just want to know, you know… for more research. You can trust us on this one, Dorian." Dorian held their gaze. His face looked thoughtful, almost torn, and for a second it seemed like he wanted to speak, but then he shook his head slowly. "Sorry. But I can't. That’s a secret I plan to take to my grave," he said, then scraped his chair back, preparing to stand, but before he could—

"From age seven until the day I killed my father and moved out. No one's been inside since except housekeeping. Not Marco. Not any woman. No one." "Dante……" "I need you to see this." He pushed open the door. "I need you to understand what you're really signing up for if we—if this becomes more than a contract." The room was frozen in time. Dark blue walls covered with posters of soccer players and vintage cars. A twin bed with a navy comforter, precisely made. Bookshelves lined with classics and textbooks, organized with obsessive precision. A desk with notebooks stacked in perfect alignment.

“Why do I always end up missing the best parts of the night?” Killian shot his friend a knowing look. “Well, knowing you, you’re usually wrapped up in some woman.” Dorian merely shrugged, unfazed by his friend's remark. “You’re not wrong. And speaking of ‘some’ woman,” he started. “Where might I find Dr. Angelos?” Killian’s entire body went stiff. He narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Why?” Rolling his eyes, Dorian swung his legs off the corner of the desk and stood up. “Because, my dear friend, I was entirely serious when I told Elena that I wished to speak more to her about her research,” he said.

POV: Dorian "My name is Dorian," he said, and his voice came out steady, which was the single greatest performance of his life. She looked at him with those dark eyes that had been reading him since a corridor on the fourteenth floor and found nothing. No recognition, no soul pull, no reaching quality. Just a woman looking at a man she had never seen before trying to understand why her legs had stopped working and why his arm around her felt like something her body recognized before her mind had any opinion on the matter.

Brown kept his distance but brought his phone forward. “Mr. Jenson is calling again,” Brown said. Dorian gave a low growl in frustration before answering the call. Maybe she had gone home. What could she possibly accuse him of? He had done nothing. “Mr. Jenson,” he started, faking a sleepy voice. “Is everything okay?” he asked, drawing out his words. “Dorian, is Lyra with you?” Mr. Jenson asked, and Dorian inhaled. “No, sir. I left her hours ago,” Dorian started.