Romans & histoires Eliott Demaury

I spun on my heels to get a look at the source of the voice "You were thinking out loud." "I spent over a thousand hours on that painting." The voice continued "E.A.D?" The words left my lips as I stared at the letters at the bottom of the painting "It's an acronym for Eugene Ari Darian." "Greek?" I scoffed, genuinely amused "A greek god actually," he corrected, arrogance clear in his tone with his head held up high "You are arrogant, you know that right?" I asked, not the least bit impressed "Okay, I'm sorry if I've been rude." His attempt at an apology was weak-hearted, he didn't mean it and I could sense it

My eyes widened, and I nodded vigorously in response. Mariano Wolfe Lionelli Montefiore Rivera was an infuriating man.

Then, satisfied: "That's a long name." "It is," Damien agreed. "Mine's short. Eli." He demonstrated, spreading his hands as though showing the brevity of it. "See? Short." "Short is good." "Very good." Eli picked a blade of grass and examined it with complete attention. "Can you do a cartwheel?" Damien blinked. "I—probably not a good one." "I can do a cartwheel." He demonstrated this claim immediately, standing and executing a cartwheel that was, technically, more of a sideways collapse with ambition, landing with complete satisfaction. "See?"

The car pulled to a smooth stop in front of the Grand Élan Mall—its sleek glass exterior reflecting the buzz of Valemont’s elite, who streamed in and out like it was their private playground. Elara stepped out first, her denim shorts brushing mid-thigh, her top hugging her figure modestly. The nude sandals with the tiny pearls clicked lightly on the polished floor. She looked casual but expensive, the kind of look that said she could afford to not care. Behind her, Damien emerged, jaw clenched, his mood sour.

His detective eyes scanned me up and down. "I'm Damian, a friend to your mum," I said with a smile. "I knew you had a boyfriend mum, that was why you came late to pick me up from school today," the young man said directing his attention to his mother. I watched as Erica turned all red from feeling embarrassed in front of her son which made me chuckle a bit. I stayed by the door watching her put him to bed. my head was starting to hurt with the streams of thoughts going through it. Is what I'm thinking even possible? I found myself wondering.

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Owen's pov It was obvious from the look on the alpha's face that he didn't want us near the mysterious woman that had me and my brothers weak in the knees and that pissed me off because his mate was sitting on her knees right next to him. I was confused as to why he was acting as if he and she was an item, my wolf growled at the thought of his mate with another man. Axel turned to her and asked her, her name, in which she only replied it was not important right now and there were bigger things to concentrate on. Raising my left eyebrow I looked her over from head to toe, she had blood covering her but it didn't look like it was her blood, a small smear of blood was on her cheek and I was afr

I rubbed my hands together looked at her straight in the eye, and noticed how puffy they were, maybe there was trouble in paradise after all. “I have some bad news for you this morning.” I began. She stopped what she was doing and looked at me. “What is it?” She asked. “Damien called in sick this morning.” “Oh? That is so terrible, what's wrong with him?” she seemed genuine enough. “Not sure yet. But I told him to go see a doctor and spend some time recuperating at home.” The lies were easier than I had thought. “I hope he gets better. So who's going to go with me to school, I have an early lecture this morning.” her brows creased in confusion.

She didn't look down at the mark. She didn't have to. The arithmetic was already done. "We have a church to book by noon, Elias. Don't look so miserable. It's exactly what your father paid for." The transition from the dry, suffocating air of the athletic club to the interior of Elias’s private flat on East Eighteenth Street was frantic, silent, and driven by a desperate, survivalist adrenaline. Damien was already waiting inside the unlisted apartment, his large frame blocking the light from the narrow kitchen window, his dark cashmere sweater discarded over the back of the single iron stool.

I stood there puzzled, unable to help but wonder what that was all about! The elevator doors slid open, revealing the bustling marketing department. Rami, ever the gentleman, held the door for me as I stepped out, a wave of unfamiliar scents and voices washing over me. "This is Dema," he announced to a group of people gathered around a table, his voice warm and confident. "She'll be joining the team as our new marketing assistant. I'd like you all to make her feel welcome."