Goldfinger Novels & Stories

He poured the contents onto the polished wood. It wasn't gold, and it wasn't a warning note. It was a single, heavy silver coin etched with the emblem of a coiled viper clutching a human skull—the mark of the Veracruz Cartel, the global syndicate that Dominic had been running from when he returned to Blackwood.

Like a pack of fucking hyenas. Pathetic. They are so weak, even a dying goat could have defeated them in a duel. My accountant will wire twice the amount I promised. I never go back on my word. But in seventy-two hours, there will be nothing left of Gavril. “Leave Gavril for me,” I order. “And the footage from the club. Did you get it?” “Yes, sir.” “The blonde?” “We have her, boss.” “Good. Make her sing. I want everyone involved in this.”

the host announces. Alaric leans closer to me and whispers, “Anything you want, tell me. I will buy it.” “You don’t have to. I have my own money. Plus, it’s on behalf of my pack. Except you want to get me something personal.” “Personal it is.” “Two million taels of gold,” a voice says from behind. It’s Isolde. She’s staking her gold already. “Three million,” I counter, raising my card. “Five million,” another person bargains.

"A few days ago… I had a dream. In it… In it, it showed me that Grandma and I poisoned you. You died. I even cursed you, saying that you were some feminazi who deserved it." His body began to tremble uncontrollably. "That wasn't a dream." I met his gaze calmly. "You did that in your past life." Ryder's eyes widened with incredulity. He sat there, frozen and stupefied by the revelation. The color drained from his face in an instant, leaving behind nothing but a deathly pallor. Despair, regret, pain—every emotion collided across his features before he hunched over in silence. He slipped from his chair and dropped to his knees with a dull thud. Across the table, he bowed his head heavily toward

"Okay, now let us hit the exact center spot." "The center—oh!" The big capo shoots a huge white cloud of sweet cream right onto Goldie's back opening. "Very good," Jack Horner says, and he pushes his warm tongue right against the small puckered hole, moving it around in a big circle. "Oh, Daddy," Goldie Lockhart moans loud. He loves how bad this mafia business feels tonight. Having the big capo's tongue right on his back opening is something the young elite academy protégé never expected to happen.

“It’s because her marriage is just fine, really. And because she has one hell of a back-up plan and crash cushion, one that keeps her safe, and I’m willing to lay every penny that I have that she has full access to some sizable offshore accounts.” “Mmm-hmmmm.” Griff sighed. “Go on.” "Maybe she can’t touch ‘em now, because of the heat and because she isn’t allowed to leave the country, but the feds told me and so I know for a fact that she sold quite a bit of her family jewelry, and so she has a nice chunk of change that she’s living on. She can wait a while to hit the payload. I figure that she’s thinking that, yeah, things are shit right now, but she sees that pot of gold waiting at the end

He said that and sent me a transfer of $1.88 on his phone. The note with the transfer contained two words: "Gold Digger." I had been with him for seven whole years and had not spent a dime of his money. I even gave him gifts on holidays and anniversaries. He took them like he was entitled to them, but he never got me anything in return. He would mockingly ask if I thought it was a man's duty to buy gifts for his girlfriend.

Club Gold. The name alone feels like a taunt, a reminder of the gilded cage I find myself in. The gold glitters, the champagne flows, and the beautiful people dance to a thumping beat. But behind the façade of luxury, I can sense the darkness, the secrets, the unspoken threats. Keith dropped me off hours ago, his face etched with a tension he couldn’t quite conceal. He mumbled something about needing to handle business and promised to make it up to me later. But I could see the guilt in his eyes, the flicker of something he wasn’t willing to share. He hasn’t called or texted since. Evelyn has been my constant companion, a shadow guiding me through the labyrinthine corridors of Club Gold.

Under a man who looked directly at me as though I were some poison wrapped up in pearls, I found myself still wrapped well in silk I’d never truly own. With sleeves rolled up and jaw clenched, Damian stood on the other side of the room. A particular storm brewed within Damian's eyes. “You think I don’t see through you?” His voice was sharp, practiced cruelty. “Marrying me was just your ticket. Admit it. You got what you wanted: my name and my money. Isn’t that what gold diggers dream of?” The word seared through me. For a moment, I almost believed him. Hadn’t I signed my name on that contract, bartered my freedom for funds? What else was it but a transaction?

Just as I was about to turn into the road, the wolves blocked my exit. Before I knew it, the pack warriors had reached where I stood. I was surrounded. “Shane Lockwell,” the warrior I assumed to be their leader spoke, stepping down from his horse. “You have concealed yourself well, living as a miserable omega, when you are capable of such evil acts of sorcery." Breathing hard, I raised my hands like I was about to conjure up a spell. “Don’t come any closer, or you will find out what I am truly capable of.” I threatened, hoping to scare them off.