Khr Bianchi Novels & Stories

Katerina got up from the couch, shaking her head in both disgust and annoyance as she walked toward the bar. One of the girls walked toward our table, but both Ezra and Diego didn’t pay her a second glance. “They smell like aphrodisiac,” Ezra stated, and Diego shook his head. “Forcing their pleasure out of them. Something that my father has as a profession. It is a shame that he doesn’t see it as wrong and doesn’t have anyone to tell him off, don’t you think?” Diego said, standing up as he looked at the woman, Katerina. “What are you going to do?” I asked, and he looked back at Cosimo. “On my mark, we are going to leave…”

And then there’s the one that makes me pause. Massimo stands beside a man in a wheelchair, his hand resting lightly on the man’s shoulder. The man’s eyes are soft, his smile gentle in a way that doesn’t match the steel I associate with Massimo. Enrique Bianchi. I know that name. Everyone in our circles does. Enrique Bianchi is the opposite of Massimo, or of Lorenzo, for that matter. A sweetheart, a quiet man who funds orphanages and negotiates truces where others start wars. The kind of man who remembers your name, even if you’re nobody.

" I smiled at her, and Alessandro pulled out my chair for me to sit down; I took a quick glance at Alessandro's father, and he gave me a subtle wink. Shit! I ignored his wink. Alessandro sat down in the seat next to me placing his hand on top of mine for reassurance. "Cassandra, this is my mother, Bianca," He spoke, and she leaned her hand out for mine across the table. "Nice to meet you, dear," She spoke in her Italian accent. She was a beautiful woman, I don't get why her husband constantly cheated on her. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your fiancee, my son?" Alessandro's father spoke up, taking a sip of the whiskey he had in his glass.

Big pass! No matter how harmonious they had tried to act at that moment, any person would be able to easily detect the amount of tension in the room. The woman beside Mr. Bianchi chuckled and spoke up. “Dear, why don’t you have something, the activities are about to begin and you’d need a full stomach to enjoy it.” Finally pulling her gaze away from Eleanor, Alexandra faced the woman and questioned. “Who are you again?” “This is my wife. Melina Bianchi.” Mr. Bianchi took the effort to introduce the woman.

As if ignorant of the reaction his words had caused, he repeated again, “I am Alessandro Bianchi—not Dragos.” The elder in charge exchanged a puzzled glance with Elder Ysara, who gave a curt nod. Clearing his throat, he swiftly switched his words, “Our own prince, Alessandro Bianchi,” pronouncing Bianchi awkwardly. Despite the elder trying to show that he wasn't bothered, it still showed clearly. He cleared his throat, moving on, “and his mate, Ioana… Blackmoon, now to be called…” He gave a pause, breathing in, “Bianchi.” His smile strained.

“Yes. She’s…she’s very dangerous. She works for some sort of mafia family. Beenchi? Or Blanchi?” “Bianchi,” Enzo said. Sasha’s eyes grew wide. “Do you know of them?” “I do,” Enzo said. “Most people in Italy are familiar with the Bianchi family. They’re very powerful.” “Oh,” Sasha said. Just then, the maids came in with a platter of sandwiches and tea. They set it down and then left. “Go on,” Enzo said. “Help yourself.” He motioned at the platter. “No thank you,” Sasha replied.

he said flatly, lifting a glass of whiskey to his mouth. Ice clinked as his fingers shifted. I couldn’t help noticing the small, bleeding cuts across his knuckles... and remembering what that man’s face looked like afterward. Goddess, Lorenzo was a sexy brute. “That’s me… Victoria Bian… Greco” I answered, standing there like I was in an interview. “About last night…” “The first time, you didn’t think the Greco family was worthy. You were too ‘precious,’” he cut in coldly, one dark brow lifting.

His eyebrows raised in question, “I'm Ashanti. Ashanti Dunbar, and you? “ His eyes watched my hands longer than I felt comfortable with, I was about to withdraw them when he covered them with his hands. His hands are big, my hand fits perfectly into his like it was made for this. I mentally scold myself for thinking such. Before I could wander further into my thoughts, his deep baritone voice came. “Roman. Roman Domino "

She asked him instead. “I’ll find my fellow mermen here.” “Suit yourself.” She said. “Just take care of Yntreia. I’ll see you later.” She followed Margarette as they went through the thick crowd. She saw a lavishly dressed Kapre smoking his famously favored tobacco. There were also heavily armored Dwarves, having a contest in arm wrestling. She caught glimpse of some winged women called Harpies, circling above ground. They kept on going until they reached the Virsathen’s tree trunk.

I watched Rhyker standing behind the counter and flipped the scrambled eggs with his pan, he was shirtless and wore a white apron with black joggers. He had one particular tattoo on the back of his neck, it's a drawing of a crown, the crown of Rosla. He whistled while making scrambled eggs. "Are you awake Hemilia? I'm sorry I wasn't in our bed, I wanted to make breakfast for you." He said not looking at me, I gawked at his strong and broad back that is able to give comforting hugs from him. "What's the special occasion?" I chuckled and walked toward him, he turned around and smiled.