Man Without Ties Novels & Stories

It was nice and deep. I looked up, pushing a stray lock of hair out of my face. Standing by the door was a man who looked like he had walked off the set of a high fashion shoot and got lost in the wrong part of town. His suit was dark and cut so perfectly it made everyone else in the room look like they were wearing rags. He wasn't wearing a tie, his collar was open, and his dark hair was slightly a mess. He must have spent the last hour running his fingers through it in frustration.

I could go out and have some fun at a club, but why would I want to bring a man back to my apartment? I wasn't going to do that, even with how appealing he looked. Although there was a lot on him to look at, I could hardly meet his eyes. Particularly, my gaze kept drifting to the spot where his suit's missing tie ought to have been. Instead, he wasn't wearing one, and the top two buttons were undone, showing his toned chest, throat, and a sliver of collarbone.

"Sienna, you have two choices. Either leave Eiderton right now or never leave the city ever again." Sienna stared at him in disbelief. She couldn't believe this—Zachary used to hang on to her every word. He had promised to grant her every wish she had. "I won't leave you, Zach," she said, stubbornly believing that she would be able to convince Zachary to be with her. Zachary looked at her coldly. "You will never see me again." He walked out of the police station and lit a cigarette numbly. He had promised me to stop smoking when we got married.

But Henry, the man behind the facade, was tired, hurt, and visibly at war with himself. His tie was loose, hanging around his neck. A few buttons of his shirt had been undone, revealing part of his chest covered by a thin layer of sweat. His hair, always perfectly in place, was slightly tousled, as if he had run his hands through it multiple times, frustrated. Still, there was something extremely attractive about that disarray. He was beautiful. Commanding. A mix of strength and vulnerability that disarmed me effortlessly.

It's because we have already eaten most of the ones we like the most, and Manuel doesn't seem to be very interested in it either. He took off the suit jacket, which was completely out of place in this setting, and hung it on a wooden chair. He also removed his tie and unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt, casually rolling up the delicate cuffs to his wrists, revealing a strong and powerful forearm. His fingers were slender, with distinct joints, and each neatly trimmed nail was full and healthy. With tableware in his hand, it seemed like they had elevated several levels. Taking off that straight suit, he looked more like those male models on magazine covers, with a hint of wildness, and witho

His assets were gone, and he was buried in debt. As for Susan, the gentle facade had long since vanished. What remained was a woman on the verge of hysteria. "They fight almost every day. Susan yells at Harold for being useless, and the two of them are constantly at each other's throats. The neighbors upstairs and downstairs have filed multiple complaints." My expression remained unchanged. I couldn't help but wonder if Harold's downfall was, at least in part, a form of silent revenge against Susan. Honestly, even if he left with nothing, he should have been able to make a comeback given his skills.

human. He was leaning back in his chair, one hand wrapped around a crystal tumbler, the other running through his hair in a gesture I'd never seen him make. His tie was nowhere to be seen, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a triangle of skin that seemed shockingly intimate in the context of this sterile office environment. For a moment, I just watched.

It was the kind of voice that didn't need to be loud because the room adjusted to it automatically. I turned. A man was standing just inside the edge of our conversation. He was tall, dark suit, no tie, which somehow looked more expensive than everyone else's black tie. He had a drink in his hand that he hadn't touched. He was looking at Greg with the mild, politely bored expression of someone watching a child do something embarrassing. I had never seen him before in my life. Greg blinked. "I'm sorry—"

Her body reacted with a reflex carved by fear. Seeing her go limp, the man muttered a curse and began dragging her away. Just the thought of going back to the psychiatric hospital made tears slide down from the corners of her eyes. Her gaze was blank like a corpse. “That is enough. What kind of circus do you think this is, making a scene in front of Fender’s Corporation?” The cold voice sliced through the chaos. Jason’s icy stare landed on the stunned man. Then he pulled out a card and flicked it toward him effortlessly.