Nine Perfect Strangers Book Review Novels & Stories

I knew he was asking silly questions to understand my mood He studied me for a second longer than felt comfortable. Then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” Back to his phone. I looked back at the book. One breath. Two. Three. A woman in London. I thought about every moment I had filed carefully away like something precious. The kitchen floor. The garden. The balcony. All those quiet spaces where I had let myself believe I was being seen, really seen, for the first time in years. And the whole time. The whole time there had been a woman in London.

At the DeLuca Family banquet announcing its new advisor, Matteo said he was going to end nine years of secrecy and finally acknowledge our relationship in public. I stood in the back row of the banquet hall, so nervous I'd crumpled my prepared speech into a ball. Over nine years, I'd cleaned up the port books for him three times, negotiated two cross-border shipping routes, and taken a bullet for him. Everyone knew the DeLuca Family had a female advisor who never showed her face, but no one knew I was that woman. I thought that after tonight, I would finally stop being his shadow. Until the screen at the front of the banquet hall lit up. There was no photo of us. Instead, there was only a si

Jane's pulse thundered in her ears as she stared at the cock bobbing before her, thick veins pulsing along its impossible length easily twelve inches, black as midnight, the head a flared plum swelling wider than her wrist. It belonged to Darius, the towering stranger she'd matched with on that anonymous app, his dark skin gleaming under the motel room's cheap lamp, muscles rippling as he stroked it lazily. *Holy fuck, that's the biggest, longest monster I've ever seen,* she thought, mouth watering despite the knot of intimidation twisting her gut. Her pussy clenched emptily, already soaked through her panties from the buildup, the teasing photos, the sexts promising to wreck her. Worth ever

He wanted to see me one last time. I was on a plane the next day. I was calmer now than when I had left. When the plane landed, the skyline of the family's city appeared outside the window. The same buildings. The same streets. Everything looked the same as three years ago. But I was no longer the same person. I told no one I was coming. I went straight to the hospital where Professor Luciano was staying. His room was on the top floor. When I walked in, he was propped up in bed with an old newspaper in his hands. He smiled when he saw me.

"Then we’ll use the shadow to draw something else, Sara. A Banker who knows how to count can be the one who makes sure the grain lasts the winter. You don't need a suit to know how to share." The Stranger’s Entry The man on the stone stopped writing. He lifted the book, letting the morning wind catch the page to dry the fresh charcoal. He didn't have a title, and he didn't have a desk. He was simply the one who had agreed to hold the book while the rest of us learned how to speak. "The first entry is finished," he said, offering the leather-bound volume to me. I took the book, its cover rough and smelling of natural tannin. Xander leaned in over my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck a

I frantically searched my pockets, but the phone I had been holding onto must've flown somewhere when Joshua had grabbed me. Soon, the rash spread all over my body. My face had swollen up from the reaction, and I could barely see through my eyes. Not to mention, breathing became difficult too. If I couldn't escape, I would die in the storage room. As I searched for something to break the lock, I finally spotted my phone that had been tossed to the corner. Overjoyed, I picked it up with trembling hands. However, neither my parents, my brother, nor Joel answered my calls.

The man hung his head low, his fingers buried deep in his hair, carefully considering where I might have gone. As his eyes wandered, they suddenly fell upon the trash can nearby. Those pink fragments looked so familiar that the moment he saw them, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He slowly crouched down, not caring that the cream stains would dirty his sleeves. He picked up the pieces from the trash can bit by bit. Then, he carefully assembled them back together. There were exactly 99 reconciliation vouchers. He remembered five years ago, when he had looked at those vouchers and sincerely promised me, "Cecilia, don't worry. I'll never give you a reason to use them."

"This isn't that simple, is it? The father commits the crime, and it's pushed onto the son. The waters in wealthy families run deep." The crowd buzzed with gossip, their faces full of shock as their assumptions shattered. The female secretary's gaze darted nervously. Cynthia bit her lip, unwilling to accept what she was seeing. "How did you find out about this…?" I let out a cold laugh and looked at her. "You thought that by erasing all traces, I wouldn't be able to uncover the truth?" From the very beginning—when that secretary joined the company and made repeated, deliberate attempts to get close to me—I had already grown suspicious.

She didn't understand and instinctively drew back. Dad's face was pale and worn, with veins standing out on his forehead. His body stayed rigid, trapped between holding Mom back and keeping himself upright. The shouting, crying, beeping monitors, and the nurses' hurried voices created a deafening clamor. Somehow, I felt a strange stillness as a tiny voice in my heart whispered, "So that's how it is," before fading slowly. Suddenly, I felt confused. How had it all turned out like this? According to the script I had thought I knew, Anna would recover, Mom would get what she wanted, and Dad wouldn't have to be torn in two. The three of them should have lived happily together.

“I don’t know what you do. My point is that I don’t know you. For someone in my position, going to Paris with a man I hardly know will be a terrible mistake.” Tinashe smiled. “Are you seriously saying no?” “I didn’t expect you to really buy the tickets. I have been scammed by men before. One left me stranded at OR Tambo. I am sorry. You can still get a refund from the airlines. I am sorry.” “What would male you say, yes?” “Right now, nothing. I was stupid last night. I am the one who advocates for the public to be smart with strangers. I have to practice what I preach.”