Honey Don't Novels & Stories

The difference was something about the quality of the reflection from the sea, the way the light carried a different weight when it had traveled across water of a specific color. He got up. He dressed. He went downstairs. Don was in the hotel's small breakfast room with a cup of coffee and a plate of bread and honey that he was not eating. The bread had been cut but not touched. The honey was in a small ceramic pot that Ernest had noticed on previous mornings—a particular shade of terracotta that matched the roofs of the Ano Poli houses, the specific color of things made from the local clay. Don was looking at the honey pot with the quality of someone who was seeing it but not registering it

"You stay here, where it's safe. Your mother will be in the best private hospital. For as long as she needs." The wave of helplessness drowned me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. The word came out anyway. "Thank you." "Sweetheart, don't thank me." He tapped my nose and pulled out his phone. "Sonny's got the planners lined up. Here's the concept they sent over, take a look." "You should eat light for a few days. You want to fit in the dress." "And the honeymoon, Europe or Asia? Whatever you want..." Angelo wouldn't shut up. Planning, planning, planning.

“And I’m sure they’ll happily use a rusty spoon to drag your insides outside. Sounds good to you?” “Uh,” Spider stalled. “No. Not really. But –” “No ‘buts’, “ Honey said, all sweetness and light long gone, and Spider knew that she wasn’t even slightly adverse to taking him down with a well-placed drop-kick. “Sit your skinny ass down over there, cutie-pie. Now.”

‎ ‎“You got predators off my back. Got my son into school. Even gave my mother a place to stay. I owe you more than I can ever repay.” ‎ ‎Kyle looked away toward the crowded bar floor. ‎ ‎“You don’t owe me anything.” ‎ ‎Honey smiled faintly. “That’s where you’re wrong.” ‎ ‎For a second, neither spoke. ‎ ‎Then Honey leaned slightly closer, voice dropping teasingly again. ‎ ‎“So…” she murmured. “You want me to help you forget whoever broke your heart?” ‎ ‎Kyle barked out a short laugh,"Hell no, you know I don't see you like that.”

Sierra’s fingers brushed over the worn wooden door of Finnegan’s, heart hammering so fast it felt as though it might burst. The faint scent of coffee, whiskey, and something smoky wrapped around her like a warning. Music thrummed softly from a corner speaker, a low pulse that seemed almost synchronized with her heartbeat.

People change—especially when their hearts get crushed. "If you apologize to Sofia and admit you were wrong, the wedding goes on as planned." He said it slowly, like he knew he was pushing it. I froze, then smiled sweetly. "Alright. I'll apologize. I won't upset either of you again." Adriano nodded, satisfied—but something flickered behind his eyes. He could tell something was off. He just didn't know what. Right then, one of his capos—Paolo—pushed in. "Don, your madre's here."

Hearing the praise for Kaia, Chris couldn't help but beam, a satisfied smirk curling at the corners of his lips. Kaia then began singing a sweet love song. I had to admit, her voice was enchanting. Standing next to me, Chris watched her with a look of admiration and infatuation. Meanwhile, Kaia's gaze never wavered from Chris, filled with longing. When the song ended, she didn't step off the stage. Instead, she continued, "The song is dedicated to the one I love most." At that moment, the large screen behind her flickered to life. The screen began showing a rolling display of photos—proof of the love Kaia and Chris once shared. There were sweet couple photos, handwritten love letters, and ca

he began, but his words were silenced by Anastasia's sudden advance. Already flushed with the warmth of the alcohol, Anastasia leaned in, her lips finding Harry's in a passionate kiss. The scent of her favourite red wine lingered on her breath, a testament to her evening's indulgence. Harry was taken aback, the unexpected kiss catching him off guard. He could taste the sweetness of the wine on her lips, a tantalizing blend of desire and intoxication. "No, you're drunk," he murmured, but his protest was drowned out by Anastasia's insistent plea.

Honey begged, lightly nudging at Kobe, a rather obvious gesture. And, as if on cue, Kobe echoed Honey’s plea. “You seem like a good singer, let us hear it… Please…” Jada wanted to refuse as hard as she could or just walk out of the room. But the song’s title was already flashing brightly on the screen. Honey was also forcing her mic to her. She hesitantly took it, and as soon as she did, she got cold feet. Still, she breathed deeply and started singing. “Go byotch!” Ada cheered when the pitch went higher.

The red didn't disappear from Honey's vision even as Don returned with her refilled glass. "You asked for something; I simply made sure to get it done more times than you could've done alone. You wanted to know more about him, no?" Don moved the glass out of her reach before she could take it and down the amber liquid in one go. "Anger doesn't suit you, lovely. Isn't there something you want to say for the extra I went through for you?" Go fuck yourself were the words that hung on the edge of Honey's lips, but she bit them back.