Gentleman Novels & Stories

Wren, confused, touched her own cheek and realised some part of her fallen false lashes had stuck to her undereye. She plucked the strand off her face, looking away like nothing happened. Soon, a man walked in, and it wasn’t Hector. He was tall, probably in his early forties, with sharp, good-looking features. He wore a beautifully tailored navy suit without a tie. “My sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting,” he said in a cultured baritone as he walked around the desk to shake their hands. “Unavoidable delays.” He acted like a gentleman, but there was a watchfulness behind his pleasant smile that made him seem like he wasn't really.

I can feel my chance of getting chosen by an honorable, and prestigious male slipping through my fingers. I draw in a shaky breath just as someone gives my shoulder a light tap. I turn around fully intending to see Fiadh, but the man standing behind me makes all my thoughts about failure disappear. The breath I was taking leaves my lungs and my cheeks begin to heat up. "Good evening. I am Lieutenant Modok from Gaimo. Would you honor me with a dance," he asks smoothly and I nod while slipping my hand around his extended arm.

While Gerard’s good look was dark - with black hair, black eyes, and slightly tanned skin, this man was the opposite. He had fair skin, light blonde hair reaching his nape, and eyes as blue as the sky. His tall, slender, and toned body was wrapped in a beige-tailored three-piece suit while Gerard wore his signature black. They both had strong facial features, but somehow this man gave off a more feminine vibe. And a soft smile had never disappeared from his face. Gerard stood up as the man walked elegantly toward him. He held out his hand for a handshake, “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Huxley.” His voice was deep and magnetic, making even William’s heart, as a man, tremble slightly

Hunter responded. After taking a swig from his glass, the man asked, “So why are you turning down such beautiful ladies?” “In case you're gay, I'm straight.” Hunter raised his hands at the man. “Don't come at me with no gay stuff.” The man threw his head back and roared with laughter. He looked like he was in his mid-forties. He didn't look feminine at all, quite the opposite. He looked like a macho man. With his low-cut hair, and cleanly cut moustache that met his bearded chin. He was wearing a white t-shirt that hugged his biceps and a gold watch around his right wrist. Hunter noticed a silver ring on his ring finger.

“Is this gentleman the eldest young master of the Goldmanns? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Zenovia, Zenovia Livingston.” She reached out her hand to greet him. Waylon put down his knife and fork and reached out. However, what he went for was the handkerchief on the table. He picked it up to wipe his hand and did not seem to plan to shake hands with Zenovia. Zenovia’s hand hung awkwardly in midair, and she retracted it unnaturally with a slightly stiff expression. “That’s very rude for you to treat a lady like this, Mr. Goldmann.”

I pick up my phone and pull up the email again. Three profiles. Three men. Three masks. The Gentleman. A half-mask, oni style. Elegant. Sharp. His photo shows a man with a jawline carved from patience, salt just beginning to thread through dark hair at his temples. A suit tailored like second skin. He looks like control. He smells like rules you want to break. His list: bondage, anal play, slow torture of the best kind. He likes precision over chaos. “I enjoy unwrapping a woman like a gift. Slowly. Thoroughly. I want to hear you thank me for every second of restraint.”

"You'd better do it right now." Something moved through his expression, a flash of something that was not anger, or not only anger, but that was more complicated than anger and considerably more personal. "You know what?" He released a breath that was not quite steady. "I will find that son of a bitch and teach him not to play with other people's valuables." "Well," I said, and let just enough amusement into my voice to be genuinely infuriating, "he was quite the gentleman." I let the word "gentleman" sit there and do its work.

He asked, lifting a brow. "Is that a stupid question?" He chuckled softly, " I don't know" he admitted "I couldn't tell if you were being sarcastic or not" a small grin played on his lips. " A lot of women take gestures like that as an insult. Some kind of pity party. I hope you know that isn't what I was opposing." " I know." I smiled " you're quite the gentleman and I can't say i don't like it." His brows went further up, and with a step closer to me he spoke, "gentleman?"

“Why do I miss you so much? I’ve been dreaming about you the whole week!” “Have you. You never mentioned it.” “I wouldn’t wanna feed that dreadful ego of yours.” “Oh, well, is it your pride talking about my ego?” “Hey, dude, chill down. I need you to be gentle now.” “Gimme a sec. Siri, what does gentle mean?” Jim paused, smiling. “Sorry, looks like that word isn’t included in my dictionary.” “That’s bullshit. You can be the sweetest guy on earth.” “Say it in public and I’ll sue you for slander.”

“My deepest apologies, Mr. and Mrs. Lambert. It’s my fault all this happened. I shouldn’t have had a conflict with this gentleman.” “A gentleman?” My mom quirked an eyebrow and turned to William. “You?” She snorted with laughter and scoffed. “This man is the furthest thing from a ‘gentleman’ you can get.” “Mrs. Lambert, please listen to my explanation, I—” William said.