Onyx Shirt 소설 & 이야기

Oneil also values the event the most. He looks at his reflection with one of the great armors he has. It is a dark blue velvet suit specially designed by Mansha Amyrgia Santifaller for him. The lapel of his suit is shark fin grey. Wearing clothes as this has always allowed Oneil to live in the hall of the respected and the esteemed.

Onyx and platinum, a subtle flex for those who knew how to read wealth properly. As I sat on the bench to put on my shoes—black leather oxfords with a beveled edge—I glanced into the long mirror to my side. The man staring back didn’t just look like money. He looked like control. Like danger dressed in civility. A predator in silk.

I slightly cringe at the fact the shirt I have on comes to mid shin . I take a deep breath trying to calm my racing heart and trembling hand . I then lift my hand and lightly knock , it only takes a moment before the door opens . Behind the door was the sexyest man I had ever seen . Orion was clearly just out the shower, his luxuris head of curls were still wet and half covering his left eye . He was even better without his clothes on , the body of a Greek god with golden skin and ripped muscles in all the right place and a light scattering of dark hair covering his chest with a fine line leading to the band of his boxers .

He brought out a black card and tossed it on the table. Scott Roger’s eyes blinked continuously on seeing the black card that was before him as he tried to get a grip of himself. "I can see that you only shuffle between four different shirts. The polka dot shirt that I hate, the black plain buttoned t-shirt, the green striped shirt, and the plain white t-shirt. That is my black card and the passcode to the card is 3446! Go to the boutique at LIOR house of luxury! Select fifty shirts, thirty pants, forty shoes, and other things that depict masculinity " Connor said while Scott nodded his head.

“The Council meeting is tonight, remember? You’ll need to look... authoritative.” Her gaze slid pointedly down at the porridge-stained shirt he wore, then she glanced over at Rio with disdain. What I wouldn't give to poke her eyes out. Alessandro stood slowly, adjusting his stained sleeves without urgency. “I remember.” “Good,” Onyx said. “We’ll leave an impression, I’m sure. Especially if everyone sees the two of us arrive together.” That smug undertone. It felt it like a pinch beneath the skin. Onyx tilted her head and finally looked at me again condescendingly.

Sharlynn looked so excited as she started to look through several women's clothing stores. She stopped when she saw a blouse with a large bow accenting the belly. It was sleeveless, white, and looked elegant. The blouse was displayed on a mannequin in a store. Richie approached Sharlynn and saw that she seemed interested. "Do you want the blouse?" Richie asked. Sharlynn turned her head, a sweet smile on her beautiful face. The beautiful woman nodded firmly. "But it's still too sexy. Look for a plain t-shirt or blouse with less transparent material," Richie snapped.

“Be the predator, not the prey.” I force a sharp exhale and get to work. This is a contract. This is business. I reach into the box and pull out the first piece. My eyes go wide. It’s a smoky-grey slip of a dress—so thin and short it barely qualifies as clothing. It’s the kind of thing an Omega would be forced to wear at a Syndicate auction. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I hiss, looking at the lethal cutouts along the ribs and the sheer lack of hemline. Then I look back into the box.

There he was—Ronan. He leaned casually against the front entrance, an embodiment of danger draped in sleek sophistication. Clad in his signature dark attire, he exuded an aura that was impossible to ignore. The fitted black shirt clung to his broad chest, outlining muscles honed to perfection, while tailored slacks accentuated the powerful lines of his frame. The jacket that hung effortlessly from his shoulders was more than just an article of clothing—it was a declaration of his authority, a shield that didn’t soften his menacing presence.

I let the air wash over me when an intense woodsy, spicy smell fills my nostrils. Knox. I look around to see where he might be, suddenly feeling more energized at the prospect to run into him again. I see him walking towards the packhouse from the garage. He’s wearing a pair of tapered black slacks with a black, silk dress shirt tucked in. A single silver chain glistens in the moonlight. I don’t miss the way the shirt hugs his muscles and his tattoos peek out from the collar. Oh man, he is sexy. I can feel my core tighten at the sight of him, my wolf wagging her tail.

A section was dedicated to cologne, bottles gleaming under soft lighting, their labels discreet yet undoubtedly expensive. I trailed my fingers over the nearest shelf, my touch skimming the smooth fabric of a midnight-blue silk shirt. Everything about this space was designed for power. Every item had a presence, a statement. I finally settled on a simple plain blue shirt and slipped it on, my fingers fumbling with the buttons. Axel stepped in before I could finish, his hands covering mine. He buttoned it for me.