Gentleman's Library Novels & Stories

He handed the card back to me with a respectful nod. "My apologies, Miss Sera. I didn't recognize you." He stepped aside and opened the heavy wooden door. "Please, go right in. Let me know if you need any assistance." "Thank you." I walked past him into the library, my footsteps echoing in the vast space. The inside was even more impressive than the outside. Towering bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling, filled with leather-bound volumes and ancient scrolls. Dust motes floated in the beams of light that filtered through stained glass windows. The air smelled of old paper and history.

It was malicious but I didn't care I was on a mission to ruin their lives I might as well go with everything I got and it wasn't like I told a single lie everything was true and nothing compared to how vile and evil the bitch was. Immediately I pressed send there was a knock on my door startling me “Come in” I answered “Miss” the man that followed Leon around walked in giving me a little bow “Hi” I jumped “Does he want to see me?” I asked “Oh no. he doesn't, I mean I don't think so yet” he corrected himself “I came to tell you that the library is ready for you, it is the second door on your right after the wine room” he explained causing my shoulder to slump in disappointment

Already much more soothing than sad songs and the sound of explosions. Tall shelves lined the walls, crammed with books. Of course this man had a library that looked like it belonged in an interior magazine spread. A low chandelier hung in the middle of the room above a long solid wood table, a few chairs, one couch in the corner with a folded throw. I walked along the first shelf, letting my fingertips brush the spines. Gold lettering, embossed titles, lettering already faded. The first row was full of classics. Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Dumas. Of course Zane owned a collection of depressed men who liked to write about sin and consequences. Fitting.

Vincent knocked once, then opened them without waiting for a response. "Miss Marcellus, sir." The library was vast, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that stretched up to a second level accessible by rolling ladders. Leather-bound volumes filled every inch of space, their spines catching the light from crystal chandeliers. It was the kind of room that belonged to a man who collected knowledge the way others collected stamps. And there, seated behind a desk that looked like it had been carved from a single piece of dark wood, was Caspian Santoro.

She nodded and followed the messenger to Logan's mighty library with heavy ass doors. She'll ask for the story behind these doors, it's not like this was his safe room. The bank with so much money and valuables in it, do not have this heavy a door. She smirked at her own joke. The library glowed warmly under soft amber lights. Logan sat casually near the fireplace, a slice of pumpkin pie balanced in his hand, while Daniel leaned back in an armchair, clearly relaxed. “There she is,” Logan said when he saw her. “The genius behind this masterpiece.”

Lady Vivienne sat back in her chair and her smile didn't leave her face. The elders started to walk forward. Alphas at the back of the hall stood and made their way around the long table. The Master of the Royal Library was already conferring with one of his attendants about which of the snow pieces would best suit the eastern reading hall. One of the retired ministers had taken out a small leather book and was actually noting the paintings down in order of preference. The wives of the elders and the Lunas of the nearer packs had risen too, and they walked over towards Lady Vivienne in a small, soft cluster.

Giselle went straight to the library to cool off. The library was bathed in the amber glow of a single desk lamp, casting long, skeletal shadows across the rows of leather-bound books. Giselle sat at the massive desk, several thick folders splayed open before her. She didn't look up when the doors creaked open. She didn't need to. The scent of sandalwood and tobacco announced him before he even stepped into the light. "It’s late, Giselle," Richard said, his voice a low velvet rasp that seemed to pull at the air in the room.

The air smelled of old books and polished wood. The interior looked nothing like she had expected. No security monitors. No weapons. No luxury. Only shelves filled with journals. Maps. Photographs. Letters. The entire room resembled a historian's library. At the centre stood a single round table. Two chairs. One occupied. The man slowly closed the book he had been reading. His hair was completely silver. His posture remained straight despite his age. The lion headed walking cane rested against the table. He looked up. His eyes were calm.

“You’d know something about that.” I shut the cabinet a little harder than necessary. “We’re talking about service flow.” “We always are.” I looked at him. He looked back, calm. I dropped my eyes to the checklist. “Library?” “Second floor.” “You do have a library.” “You sound accusatory.” “Rich men with private libraries are either they actually read, or they just want women to think they read. Both are suspicious.” “I’ll try to look stupid in the next room.” “Don’t strain yourself. I know it doesn’t come naturally to you.”

They were, after all, close friends. "I would be happy if you do that. I mean I only live in this place with my brother, who, you already know about his condition and the maids, whom I can't share many things with. Having a friend over sounds good to me." After touring the place for one hour straight they rested on the lounge on the ground floor of the library. The beige seating with golden lining matched the room perfectly. The wooden vintage long coffee table was put i the middle and there were some flower arrangements in the middle. It made the room looked more alive. She had picked up a book title which interested her. It was a classic vintage book made in the late nineteenth century. It