Man Without Ties Novels & Stories

Saying this, Manik straightened up. He stood straight and took off the tie from his neck and threw it somewhere in Nandini’s room. His veins popped out through his muscular elbows. Nandini gulped looking at him. Before she lost her control, she turned her eyes. She knew this drunk Manik was extremely dangerous as well as unpredictable. She didn’t know this Manik. Then he settled in front of Nandini.

Reyona raised her eyebrows at him. “What am I doing in my home?” “You…you have lost the right to be here. Ain’t you shameless?” Thomas blurted out as a sheen of sweat showed on his powdered forehead. His fitting, stylish coat seemed too tight for him at that point as he reached for the tie at his neck and tried to loosen it. Only that his hand came away empty because he didn’t have any tie on after all. He had on an open-necked cream-coloured shirt under the coat.

Jessica has really been nice to me and she's made me feel so relaxed about the whole situation. I walk to the living room with Jessica behind me. "Thanks Jessica" "Jess" she corrects for the umpteenth time today. "Thanks Jess" "Let's go" Nathan orders. Nathan is wearing a button up shirt and dark denim pants. His hair is perfectly styled as usual and his well trimmed beard makes him even more handsome. His lips tug into a smirk "Are you done checking me out?" He tugs his hands in the pocket of his pants. My cheeks redden and I stare at the floor. "Isn't Jess coming?"

Drugѕ or nоt, the longstanding bоnd between us is dеереr thаn anyone wіll еvеr undеrѕtаnd. Jеѕѕuр is wearing an еxреnѕіvе ріn-ѕtrіре ѕuіt. Thе man is rерulѕіvе. Hе’ѕ асtіng as іf іt’ѕ nоthіng tо discover hіѕ niece working the ѕtrееtѕ. It’s ludicrous tо think hе’ѕ bееn party to thіѕ, but it’s undеnіаblе nоw.

Snowy-White loves children, just not white children. Destin Elliott is wearing a simple shirt and buttoned it up fully to support the elegant tie he's wearing. On top of the shirt he's wearing a sleek vest with 5 buttons, it has a fairly deep v-line, which causes the vest to line up perfectly with the jacket's v-line when it's button-up.

He looked charming in a nude pant coat, but his tie was missing. "Where is the tie?" I asked him. "I decided to match from tip to toe instead of just a tie" He merely shrugged his shoulder, pecking me as his hand snaked around my waist.

How could I look him in the eye? My father showed nothing. Not a hint that he was involved. And the man I know… he wouldn’t throw a peace party just to take out a few low-level guys. If he wanted blood, he would’ve gone straight for Dominic’s head. He didn’t say it out loud, but I knew he had nothing to do with this. But like a true Vitale, he wasn’t shaken. Not even though it happened on our turf. Sure It wasn’t the Blackwoods. They wouldn’t blow themselves up. And it wasn’t us… at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

sat. A man stood by the railing, overlooking the ballroom. He wasn't wearing a tuxedo like the other drones. He wore a simple, perfectly cut black suit with no tie. His hair was dark, his frame lean and powerful, and he stood with the stillness of a man who didn't need to raise his voice to be heard. "You're late, Ms. Everett," the man said. He didn't turn around, but his voice was like velvet over gravel—deep, smooth, and dangerously calm.

Who gets into a fistfight in a full suit and tie on a weekend? As he shrugged out of his shirt, my breath caught slightly. All those early morning gym sessions had definitely paid off. The man could have raked in a killing as an Armani model if the whole billionaire CEO thing ever fell through. It was a frankly magnificent display of lean muscle and clean lines. I also marvelled, anew, at the fact that this man, who always appeared so gentlemanly and city-sleek, could also throw a mean right hook. My thoughts flickered, unbidden, to Cary. Was he injured too? Sitting alone in that dark cabin?

Every day, he would tail me to work and follow me home after, using his baseball cap and face mask to blend into a crowd. Most of the time, he wore a blue shirt with jeans, so the only distinctive feature I could note was his hands. And they were a pair of beautiful hands—his skin was fair, chiseled to perfection, with even the veins on the back of his hand something exceedingly sexy. It would look good if those hands danced all over my body, right? As he lay on my bed and touched myself, was he dying to feel me and measure me against the length of his own fingers?