Nadia Valentine Novels & Stories

I'm lifting my butt so I can get off from his lap but he pulled me down again "Where do you think you're going?" "Go back to the camp , it's 2 and we have to get up at 6 to make breakfast" "Oh come on.. If we go back to the camp now , we'll be our usual self which is I hope I can stop the time for awhile" I looked at him disbelief "That's for saying that I'm a good kisser" I said cocky "I won't ask for it if you're not a good kisser Valentine" "Why do you always call me by Valentine? Everyone is call me Val" I asked and he smiled. He caressed my cheek and slowly trail his hand to my neck.. shoulder and arm

“I’m sure that he will be able to talk some sense into his own son.” “That’s great,” I beam, happy that the conversation was over. At least, that was what I thought until we reach my room to find five police officers waiting with cuffs at the ready. “Are you Nadia Valentine?” One asks the minute we walk in. “I am,” I respond, going on defense. “May I ask what is going on here?” “You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Denali Ozera and the murder of Charlie Thompson,” he announces as his men move forward and grab me. “Please come quietly with us, maam.”

she said on a more serious note. I laughed. Between her and Livvy, you would think I was a hermit. "I have Nash and he is all the excitement I can handle right now." I told her. A longer silence. I knew Dianne didn't approve of my relationship with Nash. I couldn't imagine the lecture I would get if I ever let slip about the contract. She obviously decided today was not the day to dwell on negative thoughts and said warmly..."Your taste in men aside Valentina, I am so damn proud of you Valentina. You deserve this. The Universe is finally cutting you a break.”

His suit was crisp, his posture relaxed, and that familiar devilish smile curved across his lips the moment his eyes landed on me. He didn’t look surprised to see me. He looked satisfied. As if this was exactly what he had been waiting for. Before I could even process the sight of him, a woman stepped out from beside him, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She pointed at me without hesitation, her voice rising dramatically. “That’s her! Valentina stole my design! She hacked into my system and stole my work!” A few heads turned. Officers near the door glanced our way. Nate’s smile only deepened, enjoying the scene.

I waited outside, pacing around the hallway. Every few seconds, I looked at the door, I kept replaying everything in my head. When Don finally came out his eyes were red and his face looked older somehow. He just nodded at me and said, “Go. She’s still out. Talk to her even if she can’t hear you.” His voice was low and broken. I nodded and pushed the door open. The room was quiet except for the soft beeping of machines. Valentina looked so small on the white sheets. Her face was pale, her hair scattered across the pillow. Seeing her like that hurt more than I expected.

On Valentine's Day, I waited for my husband at the restaurant where he had made a reservation. My heart was full of love. I had just become pregnant with our baby. Suddenly, eight women barged into the restaurant. The one leading the charge was a woman dressed in a halter top, tight leather pants, and stilettos. The waiter approached them, “Hello, miss. Do you have a reservation? I’m afraid we are fully booked for the night.” The woman shoved the waiter away and hissed, “Move! I’m here to catch my boyfriend in the act!

What use could I possibly have to him? The woman stepped closer, her boots clicking against the floor. “Useful?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “She’s a Valisteen. She’s nothing but trouble, and you know it.” “That’s enough, Lydia,” Dylan said, his tone cold and final. Lydia froze, her expression hardening. She looked at me, her eyes blazing with something between hatred and jealousy. “Fine,” she spat. “But when this blows up in your face, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Valerie As I sat there in the upscale cafe, occupying a window seat with a view of the bustling street outside, I couldn't shake off the heavy weight of regret that hung over me like a dark cloud. This wasn't just any cafe; it was the kind where reservations were made months in advance, where the ambiance was refined, and where money spoke volumes. But none of that mattered to me in that moment. All I wanted was a chance to speak to Val, to make things right between us, or at least to let her know about Laura's condition.

“You can’t kill me. Not when I still have your name.” Then she turned to me. “And you, Clara Vale, should ask yourself what it costs to wear another woman’s identity.” Her words made my stomach drop. “What do you mean?” She tilted her head. “Did he tell you what happened to the last woman who pretended to be me?” Lucien’s hand tightened on his weapon. “Don’t.” Her smile widened. “She’s buried in Prague.” “Enough!” he barked. The tension snapped like a wire. Lucien moved fast—too fast. He grabbed her wrist before she could reach into her coat. I heard the metallic click of a gun hitting the floor.

"About what I did. About what you said. About how I never really saw you until today." Dorothy's breath catches, her artist's eyes tracking every nuance of his expression. She's studied him for years, the way his hair falls across his forehead when he's thinking, how his amber eyes darken when he's troubled, but never has she seen him look at her with such naked vulnerability. "You tore up my Valentine without even looking at it," she reminds him, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "Why should I believe you see me now?" Magnus reaches into his jacket and carefully withdraws the reconstructed Valentine. The paper roses she crafted so meticulously are held together with tape now