It's A 10 Silk Novels & Stories

I know the kind of price tags they use. “It’s… silk.” I hold up the first carefully folded layer of cloth inside the box. The fabric feels so unbelievably soft, pouring between my hands as I spread it out. “A silk scarf.” Hazel whistles low. “Damn. Dude is not fooling around! Was that it?” Good question. In true Pasha style, it’s not the only thing in the box. There are two buttery soft cashmere scarves, a handwoven fine linen scarf, and a heavy-but-warm raw silk scarf at the bottom.

Madame Vivienne stepped toward it, her hands still shaking as she presented the deep red fabric to me. “This, this is woven from raw northern silk,” Madame Vivienne said, her voice still trembling. “It is treated with silver thread lining. look at the cuts, Your Highness.” I walked up to the blood red dress, my eyes widening slightly as I took in the shape of the fabric. I reached out with my calloused hand. The exact moment my skin made contact with the cold, heavy silk, my inner wolf let out a low, purring vibration deep inside my ribs. The animal felt alive, awake, and hungry. I lifted the heavy edge of the fabric.

I looked like a blade that had just been sharpened. ​The Gift of the Midnight Silk ​When I finally climbed out of the water, Kaelen was waiting with a garment that looked like it had been woven from the night sky itself. It was "Midnight Silk"—a fabric made from the cocoons of the Shadow-Moths that lived in the Dead Boundary. ​It was black, but as the light hit it, it shimmered with ripples of violet and deep blue. It was cold to the touch, but as I slipped it over my head, it warmed instantly, molding to my curves like a second skin.

"Tell me you found a thread, Gunner." Gunner swallowed hard, refusing to meet my eyes. "The tech boys ran the embroidery thread from the pocket square. It’s custom-spun. Pure mulberry silk intertwined with actual silver filaments. There are only three tailors in the world who work with material that expensive and none of them will give up their client lists. They are protected by private security that makes our compound look like a joke." I slammed my fist into the wooden table. "Money talks, Gunner! Offer them ten million! Offer them fifty! Buy the entire fucking tailor shop!"

my grin widened, “Because you’re literally the only person who thinks that.” He stepped closer, towering over me in that tailored black suit that probably cost more than the store’s rent. My heart felt like it was glowing, “And our son deserves to know the truth.” Adriano plucked the onesie from my hands and turned it over like he was examining a forged signature, “This is polyester,” he muttered darkly, as if the word itself was an insult, “My son’s skin isn’t touching polyester. Ever. He’s getting silk, cashmere, and linen hand-stitched by underpaid Italians with good taste.”

It would be amazing that they win for their first time on the ice under the Dallas banner. My fluffy slippers are damn cozy and warm as I slip into them and grab my flannel, baby blue rope from the back of the door. Now the weather is much cooler and a lot cooler in the mornings, I have retired my fake silk Kimono for when the Spring arrives. I don’t do real silk, I know it feels great against the skin but the thought of all those poor creatures being boiled alive just to make silk, well, it sickens me to the core.

He claimed that if the West Coast treasury was funding this alliance, he demanded the right of final inspection. "Alright," Sierra says, her eyes narrowed as she circles me. She holds up a beaded gown of moon-spun silk that shushes against the floor with every movement—a masterpiece of structured elegance. "That one?" She nods toward the beaded silk, "Or this?" She gestures to the Caroline Herrera—a dangerously romantic piece that cinches my waist with a bone-tight bodice. The off-shoulder sleeves transition into a sea of flowing charmeuse, trailing behind me in a five-foot wake of shimmering fabric.

“Well? Are we doing this or are you going to cradle it like a baby you found on the steps?” “Opening,” I said, and undid the ribbon with care, not because the box deserved reverence but because she did. Inside, black silk waited, catching what little winter light the room offered and making it look intentional. Simple lines, thin straps, a bias cut that would move when she did, the fabric heavy enough to feel expensive and soft enough to make a woman forget she’s being looked at. She reached out and touched the edge with the tips of her fingers, like you lay a hand on a piano before you sit down to play. The silk slid against her skin in a whisper.

the clerk smiled I blushed, she must be just trying to be friendly to the customer. "Girl how about you try this one? It's the newest fabric. We've had dozens of similar orders from noble ladies" She gestured at the mannequin next to her I gaped for a moment "so beautiful" The dress is long. Open at the shoulders. Minimal decoration, only a few embroidery of black gemstones. Onyx. Very elegant and will give the impression of a mysterious lady for the wearer. The fabric is a lightweight material and has a natural sheen. I don't know what it's called. The color is purple. The darkest shade of purple. Almost black. So charming.

"We will take this one. I want five more of these trousers in different colors. Black, navy, charcoal, camel. I want heavy silk blouses. High collars. No sheer panels. No slits. Buy out the collection." "Of course, sir. We will have the rest delivered tomorrow morning." "Good. Leave us." I heard shuffling, the squeak of rolling racks, the click of the office door closing. We were alone. Silas didn't let go of my collar, his thumb still stroking the cashmere. The choker underneath. "You're out of your mind," I whispered. My voice shaking. "You're spending hundreds of thousands of dollars just to cover my knees." "I told you," he said. "I don't share."