Emily Compagno Book Novels & Stories

He approached me before handing the file to me. Clearing my throat, I took it from him, my sharp brown eyes skimming through the content. “Carl was born in two thousand and four. I believe you and Emily divorced in two thousand and three, Sir Logan.” He said, and I nodded, confirming his finding. “Emily left for France two thousand and six when Carl was two. She spent three years in France, where she collaborated with Esmeralda in jewel designs. After her return from Paris, she took over the Imperial company as the CEO. During her reign as the CEO, she continued her relationship with Collin..”

There it was. My heart thudded hard against my ribs as I sat up slowly, Sophia still tucked against me, my mind racing faster than it ever had during a board meeting. Emily. Had she said something? Had she encouraged this? The thought unsettled me immediately, even though I hated myself for thinking it. I kissed Sophia’s forehead and pulled back enough to look at her face. “Why do you say that, amore mio?” She shrugged. “Emily reads me stories. She smells nice. She does not yell. And she listens.”

To prove they were always one step ahead. Outside, dawn slowly began pushing against the darkness. The first hints of sunlight filtered through the windows as voices started appearing throughout the pack house. The day was beginning. Unfortunately, so was whatever came next. A knock sounded against the doorway. Emily stepped inside carrying several old books pressed against her chest. "You need to see this." Lucas and I immediately stood. Emily crossed the room and carefully placed the books onto the table. "I spent the rest of the night searching through the archives." She opened the first volume.

BENEATH THE FACADE Behind the façade of wealth and power, a web of secrets awaits.. Chapter 98 Emily’s, POV I don’t know which broke first — my heart or the ground beneath my feet. I stood there, frozen, my fingers trembling around the edges of the kitchen counter as Nyla’s words poured over me like acid, stripping away every layer of trust, every ounce of breath left in me.

She had no idea that this woman standing before her had anything to do with the young inmate, that she was, in fact, the very crux of the situation. However, she recognized her. She had seen her face on the back of several paperbacks, even the one that she owned. A book called Wolves at the Door, which she had picked up on impulse and quite enjoyed. Diamond had a way with words, and though her stories were strange, they never lost the coherency of narrative that kept you attached to her characters. “You're a lot stronger than the others,” Emily smirked. Her wicked smile was nothing like the cute one she displayed in her author photo. “Everyone else just collapsed when I pushed on them.”

Candles glowed, though no one had lit them. Emilia stepped inside, the whispers now humming like a heartbeat. She crossed the room to the vanity. Her hand brushed over a silver brush, a comb, a dried bouquet of black roses. Her mother had always been a creature of elegance and ice. And yet... There. Behind the mirror, she felt it. A pulse. She pressed her fingers against the glass. It shifted. With a soft click, a hidden compartment opened behind the mirror. A single book lay inside—bound in dark leather, its pages thick and brittle with age.

Emilia Peyton After the dreadful meeting, Emilia had immediately booked the next flight back to Canada. She wasn’t going to stay there a second longer, not after what just happened. Since she left Geneva late in the evening, she had arrived in Canada at 3am. There was no way she was going to be at work tomorrow, she wasn’t supposed to be anyways. She was supposed to spend the night in Geneva and maybe come back the next day, so she wasn’t going to make it to the company either ways.

She selected a book from the shelves, a botanical discussion of plants native to Kent, and settled herself on the couch near him. After a quarter of an hour she looked up to find Godric glaring down at a ledger before him, his teeth gritted in a silent snarl. Emily set her book down and got up from the couch, coming behind Godric and studying what had upset him. It was a messy book of accounts, very ill-kept and confusing. But Emily's keen eye located instantly where the numbers were incorrectly calculated. She put a hand on his left shoulder, her fingers curled into his shirt. "Oh dear. May I help?"

“I’m serious. I just wanted to hear about you.” Emily sighed but didn’t push. Instead, she refilled her glass and leaned back. “Alright, but just so you know, I’m very nosy. So don’t think you’ll escape forever.” I smiled, grateful for her presence. As the night went on, we talked about everything except my problems. I learned that Emily had once considered moving to France but chickened out. That she hated horror movies but loved crime documentaries. That she secretly wrote erotica under a fake name and had an insane number of readers.

Emelia did not understand why the woman spoke so casually about a man as cold as Fredrick Camfrey like he was some toddler on best behavior. To her, the man was not only the coldest but the meanest. He was full of himself and she could never see him in the same light as the nana before her. Emelia did not want to break the pitiful woman's heart, hence she settled for the option of keeping her thoughts to herself. One year was all she had to put up with before the clock hit and she would once again be single and free as a bird. “Yeah…I do like reading,” Emelia replies reluctantly. She walks over reaching out for the books and unexpectedly, every book on the shelf was not only from her favorit