Romans & histoires Lou Miller

Damn it. . c.m. louden

Liam gave me the best response ever. “You have my approval as long as you will take full responsibility for that she-wolf,” I turned toward my clothes, pulling out some outfits. “Thank you, Leo. What about you, Max?” Liam ask. “You fucking have my approval as long as Piper isn't my sister,” the bastard stated and I couldn't help but smile to myself. “Thank you so much, Dudes. I owe y…” Liam’s voice hung in the air when we heard the doorbell. We all paused for a short moment.

The interior of the Miller library was configured with dark wood shelving that rose twenty feet to a vaulted ceiling. A single digital fire terminal glowed in the hearth, casting flat shadows across the leather chairs and the large oak desk at the center of the room. ​Thomas Miller did not stand up when we entered. He sat behind his desk, his gold-headed cane resting against his knee. His face was older than Arthur Kendrick’s, but it carried the same cold, analytical expression of a man who managed a billion-dollar sports empire.

I was still wearing my black presentation blazer from the showcase, the hem of the fabric stiff with dried rainwater and faint streaks of gold alcohol pigment from my second model’s display. I walked down the quiet, carpeted corridor of the private wing, my footsteps completely silent. Miller was sitting in a low-backed vinyl chair outside Room 714, his ruggedized laptop resting on his knees, his face illuminated by the steady, green glow of an analytical spreadsheet. He didn't look like a man who had just participated in the dismantling of a multi-billion-dollar corporate extortion ring; he looked like a senior accountant working an early shift. As I approached, he closed the laptop with a

You can’t touch and kiss someone through a phone screen. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest as he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. Fuck, he’s hot. His dark brown hair was tousled, looking like he’d tried to tame it with his fingers, but he was sweaty, and it didn’t quite work. His broad shoulders and hairy chest are on full display, wearing only a pair of black basketball shorts. The shorts were hot and comical at the same time. They are comical because they are either Mikali or David’s. Therefore, they hang well past Logan’s knees, given his height difference from my guards.

I asked, making him chuckle. "Yeah. Mila and Lily are good friends. They met a few years back in junior high at an art gallery. They've been friends since then. So, when she became famous, the first thing she did was reach out to Lily and gift her a few dresses, " he says, widening my eyes. At this rate, I think my eyes are ready to pop out of their sockets. "Oh, my fucking goddess," "Baby, watch your mouth. Anthony is here," Hunter says, stopping me from cursing. I cover my mouth and look at Anthony, who is chuckling shyly.

They looked at us. Lorenzo stopped in front of the head of security—a man named Miller who had worked for him for ten years. Miller put his hand on his earpiece. He looked conflicted. "Mr. Moretti," Miller stammered. "We... we have orders. You are on the blacklist." Lorenzo looked at Miller. He didn't blink. "Miller," Lorenzo said softly. "Do you remember who paid for your daughter's braces?" Miller swallowed. "You did, sir."

He looked at Luna over the rim of his spectacles, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Miller," Luna sobbed, her carefully constructed pride finally disintegrating into a heap of raw, ugly desperation. "I have nothing. No one will look at my resume. Please... I just need enough to pay for a week at the motel. Anything." Miller looked at her with a toxic mixture of pity and revulsion. "I remember you, Luna. I remember the missing hundred dollars from the till that you swore you didn't touch. And I saw the news. You didn't just steal paper this time; you sold a human soul."

Millet shook her head, "I didn't mean it like that, I'm saying that he has had a soft spot for you from the first day, he never treated anyone as special as he did to you after Rose Miller." "Millet can I make one request?" "Of course miss." "That name is banned from this house." "Who?" Millet wondered with raised brow. "Rose Miller of course." "Oh I'm so sorry." Lulu smiled at her, "it's okay, I associate her with bad luck so I don't ever want to talk about her." Lulu went back into the house practically watching the wall clock go see the time rolling by. The cleaners mopped the floor and cooked lunch.

It was the same exact design as ours; he hadn't even bothered to change the script. Everyone in the room seemed captivated by him. My assistant, Dennis Hart, had come with me. He was furious. "Mr. Miller, how can you be so calm? He copied us!" I patted him on the shoulder to calm him down. "Don't worry. I'll handle this." Thunderous applause erupted in the hall, accompanied by the sound of cameras clicking away. Satisfied with the response, Leo asked, "Any questions?" Silence fell over the room again. Leo nodded smugly and was just about to continue when I called out, "I have an objection!"