Romans & histoires Henry Danger: The Trouble With Frittles

I said, acting like I was trying to pull the pie out. Don't rush, Rosie. We're almost there. I wonder what a gentleman like him would do in this situation. Maybe I knew already—of course I did… I've been watching him for years after all. He shifted a bit closer. I smirked in triumph, then pushed a lever behind the counter and— Voila. “Shit!” Henry screeched, hands fumbling to catch the objects that began falling from the top drawer… All this, in an attempt to save little Rosie from having a potential concussion.

Too much, too much. After a while, Monique felt that something was wrong. She froze and looked up at Henry. She happened to look into Henry, who was staring at her with a serious look in her black eyes. He looked calm, but in fact, he was full of danger. Monique felt a little nervous. "Did I say something wrong again?" "It shouldn't be!" "She didn't like the dishes I refilled?" Henry asked in a low, magnetic and pleasant voice. It was so good to hear the voice.

“It’s dangerous to allow such an unstable person to be around your nephew.” Henry remained silent for a moment, his gaze slowly shifting between Claire, Larissa, and me. Finally, he broke the silence with a casual response, his tone carrying an edge that made me hold my breath. “You’re right,” he said lazily, clicking his tongue as though daring me to react or retaliate. My face burned with frustration as I clenched my fists tightly, biting my bottom lip to hold back the words I wanted to say.

Dangerous. Patrons and staff of SubTerra used only one word to describe Jon Moretti; dangerous. He was one of many dangerous men who walked through the clandestine establishment, and yet Jon Moretti was the one they warned her about. Career criminals, thieves, arsonists, gang members, murderers… the club was a prestigious hub, built specifically to give these menacing people a place where, ironically, they could feel safe. A place they knew police officers wouldn’t be barging through the door to arrest them, thanks to a low-key business agreement between the owner, Frank Muscovado, and some crooked government officials with the power to sweep the booming business under the rug.

Someone dropped a bag of groceries. A man reached for his phone. Alexander stepped forward fast. “STOP! He’s not dangerous—!” Jay flinched, covering his face with shaking hands. “Don’t… don’t look at me…” Elias wrapped an arm around him, furious. “HEY! Don’t stare! He’s hurt!” But it was too late. Fear was contagious. A man shouted: “What the HELL is that?!” A teenager backed away. “Is he infected?! Call someone!” A woman grabbed her child protectively.

Like follow through on my promise and tell Damon everything. Henry wanted me desperate, but I was something far more dangerous now; I was cornered and furious.

"He wants me to destroy him. Destroy everything he has worked for. She reclined, her look impossible to interpret. “Did you say yes?” I had tears in my eyes. “I didn’t have a choice,” I sobbed. “He threatened to hurt Henry if I didn’t. I couldn’t let that happen.” Mrs. Fletcher stopped and glanced at me. She turned back and added, "We have to be careful with this. Jack is dangerous, but he is careless, too. We can work with that." "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice shaking.

But then I saw my younger brother, Caleb, pinned under a beam, not moving. It was the biggest tear I've ever experienced in my life. It was as if my heart was tightening to keep from shattering into a thousand pieces. One thing was certain, the Vitale had just declared war on us... ··•·•·•·· One hour earlier. Tonight, the Vitale family had rolled out everything: tables of fine food, flowing champagne, and a red carpet of sorts for us, their guests. Don Vitale sat at the head of the main hall in a large, ornate Louis XIV chair. My father sat across from him in one just like it. The two of them spoke in low, serious voices. You didn’t need to hear the words to feel their weight.

That only angered Ivan further but his father was not moved. The maids flooded the hall with food trolleys. They started placing the foods and fruits on the table. Soon enough, the room was filled with the clatter of utensils. Dimitri settled for oats and fruit. He was halfway into it when his tablet which he'd placed beside him dinged with a notification. His heart leaped in his chest but he quickly masked it. He took his tablet and silently excused himself from the dining hall. He went back into his room.

It is the kind of smile that belongs to a man who has just decided the game will be more dangerous if he sits close enough to touch the blade. By four o’clock, Julian Hart will be sitting across from him. By four o’clock, Adrian will remind him that beautifully written humiliation still has consequences.