Gold Roger Hat Novels & Stories

10' and muscled to the hilt, his shoulders so wide he only just fit through a standard sized door way. Roger worked out a lot and aimed to look imposing and threatening, even when he was just standing around doing nothing. His bla k hair was a little on the long side but easily swept back with some hair gel, as it was now. All the she-wolves walking past him were smiling and batting their lashes at him. He knew he was considered devilishly handsome, with his straight nose, square jaw line and apparently kissable lips, not too thin, not too fat one-she wolf had told him and she'd spent most of her time kissing him, when they'd spent the night together. He also boasted unnaturally long black e

I gave him a hug to which he returned. “I understand. Please send Bart my regards… Be careful Karen.” Roger said warmly. “I never saw you here. It must have been a soldier who wanted to sell Zargan wares to the locals again.” He walked into one of the offices and shut the door behind him. Thank you Roger. I appreciate you so much!

‘Of course, you do. “Alpha, shall we postpone the meeting as you seem to be…” My eyes snapped to him. Opposite me sat a big sturdy man with dark brown skin and a bald head. The hair that should’ve been on his face was on his chin. He had tattoos in random places on his skin and one of his eyes was white. The second one was a reminder that Roger’s eyes used to be hickory brown. The singlet on him was clean but it wouldn’t be for long after what I’d send him to do today.

The Roger guy was just as Ryder remembered him to be from the will reading. A small town shark, dedicated to the rich men of the town calling the shots. Receding hairline, beady eyes framed by rim wire glasses and a gut big enough to hold swallowed preys, all decked in a thousand dollar suit, he knew the type. Just wasn't sure he was ready to deal just yet. "Daniel Rogers." "You're late." He said coldly, suddenly thinking of Paul and this weasel and getting angry. The only reason he still stood here, breathing the same air as him was because he didn't remember his face from all those cold, torturous nights he hated most.

I've seen death more than I can imagine. Dressed in my Smith Huggins diamond edition dark blue suit made of cashmere, silk, and wool, my Rolex, and a pair of black leather dress shoes, I took my gold red ruby diamond ring and placed it in my pinky. Not only that, but I look like a boss, and looking at the part is also important. “Rose, the guests have arrived.” My beta but in the human world, he’s known as my right-hand man ‘Kane’ called out to me.

I say as evenly as I can. An icy look of fear flashes on Roger's face, and I tilt my head to the side. I give him a blank, emotionless stare as I wait for him to break. "Okay, okay. His name is Hugh. He was a rogue, but he was allowed to join Riverstone. He is part of our group," Roger all but yells out. "And what group would that be," I ask before tilting my head to the other side. I slide the knife down his stomach, and his breath hitches.

"If you beg me, I'll keep you out of jail. Aretha! I'm waiting for you to open your mouth and beg me." Roger is an AL billionaire, the most powerful person here. No matter what Aretha's crime is, Roger can help her get out safely. AL is Roger's world. As long as he snaps his fingers, anything can be solved. Now Roger was sitting in a chair, smoking a cigarette and waiting. But contrary to Roger's thinking, Aretha did not beg. She glanced at Roger with cold eyes. Her red lips lifted slightly, revealing a provocative and seductive smile. She said.

Oh boy, where do I start with Roger "Moneybags" Johnson? I mean, his name might as well be "Numbers" because that's all he ever talks about. I swear, if I hear one more financial acronym or jargon, my head might explode. You know those Wall Street types you see in movies? The ones with slicked-back hair, expensive suits, and a constant look of superiority on their faces? That's Roger, except he's taken it up a notch with a pair of gold-rimmed glasses that look like they could pay my salary for a year.

And deep down, I prayed I hadn’t just shot myself in the leg. Minutes later, the guards returned. One carried a small chest, another held a bundle of cash and then some jewelry. Then I saw it. Abd without being told, I knew it had to be the heirloom. It was a silver locket with a diamond-encrusted pendant. Among the things found were Roger’s singlets and shoes. Everyone stared in disbelief.