Lorraine And Marco Novel Novels & Stories

As I was arranging decorations for the Christmas exhibition, Sarah ran over, looking pale. "Boss, bad news," she said. "Marco Corvini landed in L.A. yesterday." The crystal ornament in my hand almost slipped. "What?" "He and his pregnant wife are checked into the Beverly Hills Hotel," Sarah went on. "Word is, the Corvini family is in deep trouble back in Chicago." My heart started to pound. Marco was in L.A. With Isabella. "What kind of trouble?" I asked. Sarah pulled up a news feed on her tablet.

This time, Mariko was wearing a pair of big-round earrings which made her become hot. Marcus frowned when she saw who was with her. ‘Why is she with the Triad of Aces? Did she know them?’ He wondered. But his thoughts vanished when Lucas called his name. ‘Maybe I can talk to her later. I think she went here to have fun with them. I should not ruin her mood.’ He thought before he finally decide to sit beside John and Christian. *** Fifteen minutes, before Marcus and John came back to their table… At the other table, Mariko and Orianna had just arrived. Mariko, being alert at all times, looked around to see if there will be trouble coming. When she made sure that the place was safe, she sat ne

If Marco had faked his persona the entire time he was with me, what was he like in front of Camilla? The door was slightly ajar, and Marco’s voice drifted through the crack. "Did he treat you well?” "He’s... alright. He never comes home, but I suppose that’s a good thing. Means he won’t find out about us and Violetta.” "You know, Marco," Camilla’s voice continued, "he even asked me to give him a child. Can you believe that?” "Don’t talk like that, Camilla," Marco’s voice sounded strained. Camilla was married, and Marco—what was he doing? Playing the role of the third wheel in someone else’s marriage, while making her the third wheel in ours?

Marco’s expressions shifted from anger to pity as she spoke, the emotions battling across his face. “Babe, the reason I pretended—even though it felt like dying every time I saw you kissing Sandra—was because I wanted to know who was controlling her. I know someone’s just using her because Sandra would do anything to take revenge on me and steal you away. That person is trying to use her to finally take control of Aerie. They failed with Madam Mia, so now they’re using Sandra. Please, help me keep pretending for now. We can endure this, Babe, for our children. I don’t want them dragged into this. I was already terrified when Allaric lost a finger. We have to end this war with Aerie. As long

I pleaded again but to no surprise my plea was ignored. The room was beginning to spin, my head becoming light. “He has your eyes Maria, the same eyes of Lorenzo and Diego” he smiled at the thought, his eyes distant like he was looking at a memory before his eyes. He cleared his throat snapping himself back to reality. “Lucien Garcia” he approached Marcus with his hand held out in front of him in a greeting motion. “I know who you are” Marcus clenched his jaw, and I could only imagine he was feeling a world of anger and confusion right now.

Laughter drifted softly through the partially opened lounge doors nearby. Lora’s laughter. It wasn’t a polite amusement and it was different from the restrained version she usually gave people inside the mansion. The laughter was warm enough that it caught my attention instantly. Something inside me tightened before I could explain why. I moved closer without thinking. Dr. Mark sat across from her near the lounge windows holding a paper coffee cup loosely in one hand while Lora leaned back against the couch smiling despite herself. “You insult people very professionally,” Mark was saying calmly. Lora laughed again. “That wasn’t an insult.”

"That Lorenzo's clan arranged it. That the report said what it said because certain people were motivated to make it say that." "We don't know that." "No," she agreed pleasantly. "We don't but Marco doesn't know that we don't know it. What Marco knows is that his wife is dead and that grief is a room with no windows, and when someone opens a door in that room and hands you a name — something to aim four years of it at — you take the door." She picked up a fresh cloth. "He took it."

into the wooden beam inside, underlining it with a single, firm word: Always. “From today on, Elena, this treehouse is our secret base. My heart will be exactly like this place—forever open only to you.” “Really? Then you have to promise there will never be anyone else.” “I promise.” Suddenly, a hand gripped my shoulder from behind. I turned my head. Marco was looking down at me, his eyes carrying that familiar warmth. For a split second, I felt a wave of disorientation. "Why did you just walk off by yourself? We agreed to go to Paris next week. You've lost quite a bit of weight recently; your measurements will definitely need to be retaken."

As the priest began the ceremony, his voice echoed through the church, "Do you, Alessandro, take Rosalia to be your wife...?" Alex responded quickly, his voice firm, "Yes." The priest turned to me, his eyes expectant, "Do you, Rosalia Giovanni, take Alexandro Fabian to be your husband...?" I hesitated, but my mind kept on racing with thoughts of escape, of freedom. But as I was about to respond, a burst of gunfire stopped the sacred atmosphere, sending shockwaves through the crowds. The priest's eyes widened in horror as he stumbled backward, his hands trembling. All the guests stood frozen, their faces pale and terrified, as they stared at Don Marco and his men.