Finding Frankie Art Novels & Stories

“We haven’t met for so many years. This is for you.” Startled at his sudden gift, Charmine eventually accepted it. “Thank you, Frank. I’ll keep it safe.” She would bring this to an exhibition for more people to see his work! Frank smiled. “You’re too polite.” Charmine smiled as she kept the painting. She walked over to help him prepare the ink. Frank dipped his brush in the ink and wrote on the sacredly white paper: [I love because I don’t know how to not love.] Charmine looked at this sentence and frowned.

That was definitely not the distraction I needed. He gave a small smile before letting himself in and taking the seat in front of me. “Did you have a fun night?” I narrowed my eyes. “Do you enjoy having a big mouth?” His eyes slightly widened as confusion filled his face. “You told Gerald about the drinks we were getting and about Damian, who happens to be nothing more than a friend and a business partner,” I said through gritted teeth. Frankie shifted where he sat. “He wanted to talk to you, and when he couldn't reach you, he asked me if I knew where you were. I couldn't lie.” He held my gaze, searching for something. “Or was I supposed to lie?”

he asked. I shrugged, swiping the crumbs from the table onto my empty plate. “Yeah. Mostly graffiti art. Just in my spare time, ya know.” “That’s awesome. Can I see some?” I bite my lower lip, wondering why this kid seemed so different from his brother. Reluctantly, I walked toward my room and dug around for my ancient sketchbook, running my finger over my initials at the bottom. Frankie sat on the edge of his seat when I handed it to him. His mouth dropped opened as he turned page after page of brightly colored graffiti. I’d never shown anyone this, not even my parents, and here I was showing my enemies' little brother.

“This doesn’t seem like the most sanitary place for medical triage, Frank.” “It’ll be all right,” Frankie says, seated in a chair in his boxer briefs so that his wound is at my eye-level. A little distance away from us Christian and Nico work to secure Bonetti’s four men to chairs, handcuffing them and duct taping various body parts down so they can’t move at all.

She relaxed into my arms, resting her head against my chest. “You two look so comfy. Would you like me to get you something to eat?” Adam asked. I smiled at him and turned to Lizzy to ask her what she wanted, but as I did so I noticed something in my peripheral vision. Frankie had walked into the canteen and he was staring in our direction. One of his friends was trying to pull him away but he was so angry that he just kept staring at Lizzy and me. “Some Omegas are such whores, they will screw anyone for a chance at a better position in the pack,” He growled.

I look up, expecting to see Giovanni looking apologetic but it’s not him; instead, it’s Frankie. He’s taller than Giovanni but with the same build. His skin is slightly tanned, with the same dark hair slicked back and piercing Vittori blue eyes as his brother. The only difference is Frankie is tattooed right up to his neck and the tips of his fingers. He sees me sitting there and winces when he notices the uneaten food. “Gio didn’t let you know he wouldn’t be home?” he asks, and I nod. “Ouch. Mind if I eat this?”

Oliver's voice twisted, and his laugh sent a shiver down Frankie's spine as she was forced to hear and watch all that was happening only a few feet from where she curled within herself, trembling. After Oliver was done, he left with a pep in his step and a smile on his face. He was elated with himself and needed to go out to collect more trophies for his collection. If he couldn’t be with Frankie, then he would wait. While he waited, he would hunt. This was all their fault. He wouldn’t have to do this if they would let him close to her. She was the only thing that calmed him. Frankie was found hours later, rocking back and forth in the furthest corner. Her eyes were blank, locked onto the ha

“You expect her to eat off the ground too now?” Frankie's smile fades, and he straightens, looking Leo directly in the eyes like he is no longer a threat because of his injury. “If the printsessa is hungry, she can eat like the filthy dog that she is.” He marches away across the room, reaches the door, and picks something up from the ground.

Frankie looked at the desk. “The notes you sent with the pieces,” she said. “They got longer.” “I know,” Demi said. “I kept them,” Frankie said. Demi lifted her head to look at her. “All of them?” she said. “All of them,” Frankie said. Demi looked at the desk. “I wrote more than I needed to,” she said. “About the pieces. About the people they’d belonged to.” “I know,” Frankie said. “I read them.” “More than once?” Demi said.

When Mollie sent me the photo, I stared at it for a while. I remembered how moved I had been when I saw a grand public confession on Glufford's pedestrian street. "Frankie, look! Someone's confessing his love. That lady is so lucky!" Back then, Frankie had been busy replying to Evie's messages. He just rolled his eyes at me and said I was childish. Later, when the lady rejected the guy, I actually felt disappointed for him. I opened the photo Mollie sent. Frankie looked just like that guy from before. He was carrying two giant boards on his back, both covered in messages.