Front Man Novels & Stories

Luca. I broke into sobs, burying my head into Luca’s chest. Familiar. Less dangerous. Almost fatherly. He wrapped his arms around me lightly. “Shh, Donna, it’s all fine.” He whispered. Mariano stood in front of me in a protective stance. The man from earlier stuttered something in Italian. Mariano punched him, square in the eye. The man flew, landing against the other wall. He punched him, over and over, till he was bleeding profusely. My blood curdled at the sight, but I couldn’t look away.

I'm a little confused by my own question, which the castle owner should be asking. “Are you the owner of this castle? How come I never saw your whereabouts? Why are all those curtains hanging wide all over the castle? Why is this castle so dark? Why is the room temperature here so humid?” I kept asking him without stopping, I saw him take the book out of his hands and look at me with a very cold gaze, his dark eyelids, the cold line of his face, his thick and firm eyebrows, his pointed nose, red lips and very pale skin. and his hair that slightly covered his handsome face made my heart beat really fast. The handsome man walked up to me, he covered my mouth with his cold finger when it touche

The sky was a flat, dull grey, like a screen that had been turned off but was still glowing with static. "Kaima?" I spun around. Standing in the middle of a street made of torn-up book pages was a man. He looked like Rowan, but his face was half-finished. One of his eyes was a beautiful, hazel spark of life. The other was just a rough pencil sketch—an empty circle with a dot in the middle. "Rowan?" I whispered, my heart breaking at the sight of him. "I'm not your Rowan," the man said. His voice sounded like it was being played on a broken record player. "I’m **Draft Four**. I was the version of him that was 'Too Angry.' They deleted me in the first week of production."

I growled, my voice dropping into a primal, animalistic register that made the concrete walls seem to vibrate. The last man standing—a mid-level Moretti capo named Tommy "The Tongue" Marcone—was pinned to the brick wall by his throat. I had one hand clamped around his windpipe, lifting his entire two-hundred-pound frame six inches off the floor. His face was a mottled, suffocating purple, his fingers frantically clawing at my wrist, but my grip was an iron vice.

Alonzo for a few years since he was in his late forties—at least it looked that way. “I don’t want your money. Why don’t you to do your job and take me to your boss?” He grumbled under his breath and opened the door for me. As soon as I was inside, he slammed the door shut. I jumped and clutched my heart due to fear. The man was too aggressive. The drive was silent but the tension was thicker than butter. He stopped in front of the venue where an old chubby man with graying hair and a perfect suit stood. He kept looking at his watch, annoyed until he us.

Brian is staring him down, not letting the man intimidate him. "How about you take off those stupid sunglasses and let me see you better?" he importunes him. ... "Can you talk? Huh? Can you say at least something? Don't just stand there like a fucking idiot!" he spat. ... How unresponsive the man is, made Brian go on an angry rant.

And show him my glass. "I'm Lucas by the way." he pulls and holds his hand out for a shake. "I'm Courtney," I reply and place my hand in his. He was a really handsome man. He was tall and when I say tall, very tall. He had brown eyes, which were quite intimidating. His hair was styled with some gel. He had a sharp jawline and nose. He had quite a few rings on his fingers. He didn't seem like a normal man. He seemed to be rich. He was wearing a grey suit and from what I know, that was from Dolce & Gabbana. What was he doing here?

The curtains would be pulled back, and I would realize that I wasn’t even in our apartment as I thought I was. “The name is Marco Giordano,” the man said, offering me his hand which I refused to take. He regarded me coldly, like I’d just insulted him in some way by not shaking his hand. But he shrugged it off, leaning back into his seat and smiling to himself. The other men were smirking wickedly as they stared at me, and something about the way they looked caused me to wrap my arms even tighter around my dad. I needed to protect him from them somehow. Though I didn’t know how I was going to do that.

"It seems to me that you've not had many experiences. I can tell from the look on your face." Rademos offered the speaker a long blank stare. He didn't feel scared, and neither did he show any form of it either in his stance or on his face. If there was a yardstick with which the man measured his teleportation travel log, it wasn't by fear. The man standing in front of him looked terrifying enough, but for some reason, Rademos felt quite at ease with him. The man wore an armless jacket, and scary patterned scales on his arms were visible. His hair was pure white, and there was a mesmerizing quality about his eyes. He was fit and built like the character from an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie or

CHAPTER SEVEN The Bold declaration. “I'm Jeffrey Andrey the first and only son of Mr. Andrey and today I stand here to make the following bold declarations to the entire world and I believe my right as a human and as an eligible citizen of this great nation will be respected. I'm very happy because I know that I'm the first ever to make such a declaration plicly although not the first to leave as a gay.” Jeffrey said as he adjusted himself and adjusted his microphone as he was about to make a public declaration that will forever change his life, shape his reputation and announce him to the world.