Gto Romane & Geschichten

Тургенев, Рудин. КНИ́ГА, -и, ж. 1. Произведение печати (в старину — также рукопись) в виде сброшюрованных, переплетенных вместе листов с каким-л. текстом. Книга большого формата. Толстая книга. Раскрыть книгу. □ [Аночке] предложили посмотреть книгу с картинками. Федин, Первые радости. || Сочинение, произведение более или менее значительного объема, напечатанное отдельным изданием или предназначенное для него. Интересная книга. Написать книгу. □ Наталья должна была каждое утро читать исторические книги, путеш ествия и другие назидательные сочинения. Тургенев, Рудин.

“How foolish I was to believe that asshole? How…” His sobs intensified as he realized his mother had been gone for five years. His tears stopped when he remembered the car that hit her. Despite the speed, he recognized the vehicle—it was Gio’s McLaren Senna. “Gio... That’s Gio’s McLaren Senna… I know all his cars… Did he kill my mom?” Gabriel questioned, shocked. Lorenzo quickly opened his laptop and typed in the information. “His car is a McLaren Senna, right? What’s the plate number?”

I didn't want to chance losing them as I didn't have a second set. I passed the dungeon on the way to my actual garage, which houses two cars. One was a 1967 Shelby GT350, fully restored, of course. The second was the current model, the Shelby Mustang Super Snake GT500. It's a V-8 that can do zero to sixty in three and half seconds. Its top speed is two hundred miles an hour. Both were white with black accents and pristine, just the way I liked my things.

I'm being led off. Oh, what does this means, what will it turn up to? Where am I going? These thoughts overwhelm me, as I'm a very anxious girl. My heart beats to the peak as I walk blindly forwards, then I feel the cool sea breeze. I'm now outside. "Yay!" They exclaim, pulling my blindfold off. "What?" I scream out, jumping high up and hanging on Adrian's neck. A few meters away is a white G-wagon, the most expensive G-wagon I've seen on the internet, the Mercedes-Benz G-Class G AMG 63 6×6.9.

I matter-in-factly said. “Do not compare me to her but thank you for saying that,” Max growled his complaint and compliment. “See! Now is there any way to talk to your Alpha?” I said, tapping his nose. Max was just about to open his mouth to say something snarky no doubt, however, something fell on my shoulders that caused me to stop. Whatever it was left a grease stain on my fury jacket. I noticed something on the ground and bent down to investigate, but was interrupted when I felt liquid on the back of my neck.

I whirl around and smirk. I open the door and start the beast up. I rev it a few times as the throaty engine rumbles as I drive out of the garage and down the driveway. The roar of the engine vibrates through me as I open the Bugatti Voiture Noire up and just drive. I need to get away and just let this fucking shitty day burn away.

I blinked and looked again, this time more intently. “Increase the volume, Delia.” A flicker of nerves and surprise stirred in me. “…as Mr. Sayge Harold Williams, the billionaire CEO of Grymtel Wheels and Tech, takes the world by another surprise with his latest invention: a 2025 GWT-25 that runs solely on gas, with incredible speed and a reinforced frame designed to protect its occupants. Billionaire…” “He owns GWT?” I muttered, stunned.

Dante, Nico, and I stood on the pier, watching cranes lift each one, sleek, bulletproof monsters disguised as luxury. Dante’s hand rested possessively on my lower back, his fingers tracing lazy circles through my silk blouse. “These are gonna bleed the buyers dry,” Nico said, grinning as the last car, a matte-black Mercedes G63 AMG, touched down. “Voronin outdid himself. Every spec’s top-tier, armored glass that stops .50 cal, self-sealing tires, the works.” Dante nodded, his eyes on the lineup. “Get them to the showroom, caro. No scratches.”

Dominic turned then, a smirk playing on his lips. He stepped toward me, dripping water onto the marble tiles, and reached into the pocket of his linen trousers. He pulled out a heavy fob with a prancing horse embossed in silver. "Well then, You won't be thinking about entitled relatives after this" he whispered, pressing the keys into my palm. His hand was warm, grounding me. "There’s a 812 GTS waiting in the courtyard. It’s yours. A gift for the woman who knows how to deal with headaches."