Mister Black Book Novels & Stories

Untouchable. Perfect. “Mr. and Mrs. Voss,” I repeat as Damien pulls my chair out for me. I sit. “You move fast.” He smiles like it amuses him. Like it pleases him. “We were already a done deal, mine. I just had to wait for you to catch up.” Annoyingly, he’s not wrong. The Black Ledger is exactly what I imagined—right down to the name. Dark, polished, and dripping with quiet arrogance. Everything here whispers money and power, the kind that makes people walk taller simply because they’re allowed through the doors.

Mr. Samuel Blackwood sat back in his dark leather chair. The poor light from the desk lamp cast sharp shadows across his face. His fingers drummed around the edge of the thick file labeled Anderson while his eyes were hard and calculating. He swirled the glass of brandy in his other hand, eyes narrowing while weighing his next move.

Chapter Three Hundred And Thirty Mr Black had been glaring at Liam, ignoring Paul's words. His narrowed eyes glinted with murderous rage and his chest heaved slightly up and down. "Hey, you heard what I said?" Paul asked once more, waving his hand in front of Mr Black's face, "Come on man, this doesn't have to end like this. Just name your price." Mr Black finally dragged his eyes away from Liam and fixed them on Paul. With a tilt of his head to the left, he said, "Come on into my office then." His cold gaze rested on Liam once more, "Without this fool."

“Tell Mr. Black I just need more time—” “You’re out of time,” the man interrupted sharply. “Mr. Black demanded I bring either the money or something equivalent.” My blood turned cold at the name Mr. Black. Of course, I knew that name. Everyone knew that name. Damien Black, The Mafia King. Stories of his cruelty and power were whispered across the city like ghost tales. “H-How much does he owe?” I stammered. It shouldn't be so much that I can't pay, I thought.

I ask. "Is that a threat? May I remind you you're being recorded," she says and points to the small black box on the table. "It was not a threat, just an observation," I say and Frankie sighs. "So Vincent, I know who the Italian men are, and George, but who is Damian Black to you?" She asks curiously. I look to Frankie who shakes his head. "No comment," I say as firmly as I can without trying to kill her for talking about my boyfriend.

The Unspeakable casted again the detector. "The black book. The rest is clear." He pointed at a worn leather bound black thin book. The first Unspeakable, who was wearing the blue leather gloves, cautiously picked the thin black book. "'T. M. Riddle'. It seems to be a diary of sorts." She cautiously drops the black diary in the middle of the room, on top of a quickly conjured desk. The other Unspeakable then starts to cast diagnose spells at it. Erik cocks his head to the side and says.

“Why do you have access?” He didn’t answer right away. Just walked in, footsteps echoing. “Because I do,” he said quietly, “Let’s just leave it at that.” Damon stopped at a central table. A thick black leather-bound book rested there. “This,” he said, “is the Black Ledger.” I stepped closer. “What’s in? I’d like to,” I asked. He opened it instead. I barely heard Damon’s voice anymore. My eyes scanned the page, devouring words that felt like they were burning themselves into me.

“Do you want me to call a professional locksmith, sir?” “Yes, will he come at this odd hour?” Frank shrugged and took out his phone to call the guy. After six rings, he accepted the call and agreed to come over. There was no other option than to wait for him. Stephen made coffee for them while Mr. Black searched in the filing cabinets nearby. Cromwell was the one who made the financial statements every year, so he should have a hard copy somewhere. Mr. Black used a pin to open a locked cabinet and smiled at his success.

With that, she walked towards the door, opened it, went out and shut the door softly. As her footsteps grew faint, I scooped the creamy dessert and shoved the damn spoon into my mouth with a plan formulating in my head. Watch out, mate. I, Keller Madsen, will chase your gorgeous ass no matter what it takes. Prepare to be swooned.

I didn't need to look up to know he saw me. But I did anyway. Chance Black stood at the front of the room, dressed in black again. Shirt buttoned all the way up this time. Sleeves long. No tattoos in sight. He looked neat. Sharp. Cold. His hair was down. Longer than I remembered. Dark waves that brushed just past his jaw, messy but intentional. His jaw was tight. His lips didn't move unless he needed them to. He looked too good. Too young. Too fucking hot to be standing up there like he wasn't a walking distraction.