Morgan Stark Suit Novels & Stories

when the heavy doors of the church were abruptly flung open. The blinding sunlight silhouetted a staggering figure. It was Morgan. He had lost a tremendous amount of weight. The suit that once fit him perfectly now hung loosely on his frame. His hair was disheveled, dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and his bloodshot eyes were fixed squarely on me. The venue staff and security guards hired by my family panicked and chased after him. "Milana!" he called out hoarsely before charging in. A commotion broke out among the guests. Dad's expression hardened, whereas Mom immediately sprang to her feet.

At lightning speed, he closed the passenger door and spent several minutes without getting in the car, completely out of Charlie's sight, however much she turned in every direction the window allowed her to see, trying to find her. it. Finally, when she was ready to leave and ask if he needed any help with this problem, Morgan burst into the car, his face completely flushed and the suit jacket he was wearing tied around his waist, completely obscuring his forehead. of your pants. And Charlie wanted to tear it apart until the fabric was nothing but lint.

Stone stood. “let’s welcome, my son,” his voice came loudly, overshadowing every sound that was made while his face beamed with pride and joy. The very moment that was said, loud clapping followed and the most anticipated moment came forth. Everyone wanted to see this son that Mr. Deane Stone had and they waited for him with a lot of anticipation in their hearts. All eyes turned to the top of the stairs, and the moment a gentle man walked out, they held their breath. A silhouette came to view almost immediately. Beautiful black shoes made from one of the very top brands outstretched itself, accompanied by black pair of pants, with long elegant legs stepped out into view. His hands remained i

Periodic sexual assault suits magically erased with daddy’s money. I watch as he leans over the bar, a smug, practiced smile on his face. She blinks, clearly surprised, but then she smiles politely and responds to him. An immediate, sharp jolt of something dark and utterly uncharacteristic flares behind my ribs. It is the just annoyance. It’s a cold, possessive friction that makes my blood run hot. She doesn’t belong in a conversation with a parasite like Sterling. Hell, she doesn’t belong in this room of sharks.

Not when it came to the Famiglia. Power-hungry creatures surrounded him, people who would take him out if he didn’t play his cards well. They were waiting for weakness, waiting for a mistake. He couldn’t become a pawn in the game. He was the game. He didn’t move as the phone buzzed again. Whoever was behind those notifications would pay for interfering at a time like this. “You can go—” The phone buzzed again. This time, his teeth clenched. His fists tightened and released. New York must be on fire. Eliana must have escaped.

I was honestly exhausted, and I blamed my father for it, only if he had been happy and accepted my mate things would have been so much better, at least then I wouldn't have to deceive him like this. I walked out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist and walked out of the bathroom, I blow dried my hair before pulling out the suit mom brought for me. It was a beautiful suit, it had navy blue dress pants and a blazer with a light pink shirt and blue tie. I quickly wore the clothes, I struggled a bit with the tie, I wish my mate would have been here with me, she would have helped with my tie and I would have used the opportunity to keep her as close to me as possible. I was pulled ou

Five minutes later, a petite blonde haired woman ushered him into the doctor's office. "Morgan Drake I presume? Thank you for coming. Please have a seat." Morgan sat down in a comfy single sofa. He glanced around the tastefully decorated room and finally settled his gaze on the doctor that sat across him. In spite of his age Doctor Seymour Moriarty had a full head of grey hair and a moustache that almost rivalled his head of hair in terms of volume and colour intensity. He wore a tawny brown two-piece suit, a white shirt, black-tie and black brogue shoes that were well polished.

He hoped like hell none of them would remember that they’d never seen him kiss Alyssa like that. Mr. Suit listened, then nodded his thanks. Disappointment shadowed his face. The guy in the jeans and sweater had disappeared. “I think we’re good to go,” he murmured to Morgan. “Let’s get out of here.” Again, he took her hand. He led her right out the front door. The crowd on the street swallowed them up quickly, and Jack smiled. Once the danger had passed, once he knew they hadn’t been followed, he could concentrate on Morgan—and every delicious way he could think of to make her surrender.

Morgan’s all smiley face was gone when he was looking at the kids getting scolded. “Why? Do you not want a mother like her anymore?” Edmund noticed the change in his expression and asked sarcastically which made Mogan feel irritated, “Dude! What the heck is with her? The suit I am wearing is a custom made from the Paris fashion gala and the only piece in the world, and how easily she tagged it as garbage.” Edmund could not help but chuckle when he heard him complain just after getting what he ‘wanted’, “Come on, you were the one who wished it for.”

I stood outside his door, twisting my hands together and wondering what the heck was even the duty of an assistant. “Morgana,” his voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance up at him, and my breath trap in my chest. Fuck me he looks good. He’s dressed in a charcoal suit that’s perfectly tailored to his form, showing off his broad shoulders and tapering waist. He looks intimidating, dark eyes scanning me from top to bottom, taking in my outfit of a simple shirt, red pencil skirt, and black tights. Is he satisfied? I’d left two bottons open on purpose.