Pantalone X Dottore Novels & Stories

Rielle Romano~ Rielle woke up the next day and got dressed for work, Putting on a green pant trousers and black jacket, She tied her hair into a ponytail and walked out of the house, Her phone started to ring again and she picked it, placing it against her ear "Dante!” She says and waited till she heard his voice "Come tonight, I’ll be waiting for you!" He says and hung up the call, Rielle sighed and got into her car, The drive-starts to drive towards the Company

All done so as not to disturb patients from other rooms. “Hmm, what are you doing here?” doctor Dolores asked sarcastically. She pretends to look at the files of his patients. This black-haired woman didn’t care about Nicko’s presence, rather pretended not to care. But this woman’s appearance didn’t say so. Doctor Dolores wasn’t wearing her doctor’s suit. She wore a short sleeveless dress and was made of thin, almost transparent material. Doctor Dolores had purposely dressed like this and teased Nicko again. Nicko, who saw just smiled sarcastically, thinking about his victory over Doctor Dolores.

"You can come now." Shortly after, the door opened and a buff man got in. Alessandro then told the doctor to take off his coat, his batch and stethoscope and hand it over to him. The poor old man who was scared to the core did as told. Alessandro then took off his huge black coat and replaced it with the doctors coat, putting on a fake badge and hanging the stethoscope over his neck. Man did he look yummy! Sexy young Italian doctor. He turned to the doctor. "How do I look?"

He asked both of them, but his eyes were on Mayeli. He was wearing a black LV T-shirt and black pants, with white Nike sneakers, and a cold chain. He had a few tattoos scattered on the visible part of his arms, and his straight, dark-brown hair was left in a rough mess. He had a killer, bad-boy aura, plus he was smoking hot. “We brought our car”, Diora said a little bit rudely, slightly placing herself in front of Mayeli, as though she was trying to protect her from the bartender. What had suddenly come over Diora?

It definitely flipped something carnal on inside me. He was wearing a black dress jacket and a light blue button down shirt with black dress pants. Yummy … with a spoon. “Jules there are literally no pics of you on the site. I insist that the world see how sex kitten you look, my masterpiece,” Taylor said, dropping under the counter lift and moving out into the lobby. There were easily thirty customers standing around, waiting to order, waiting on orders. Everyone turned to watch our little spectacle. “I like to think I helped,” Dante said, flashing his perfect smile.

—D I shook my head, a mix of frustration and reluctant gratitude washing over me. "Does he always move this fast in business too?" Marcus's lips twitched in what might have been a suppressed smile. "Mr. Moretti believes in seizing opportunities when they present themselves." After he left, I examined the clothes Dante had sent. They were high quality and surprisingly good taste—simple, elegant pieces in my size that could be mixed and matched for a professional wardrobe. Nothing flashy or revealing, nothing that suggested he saw me as anything other than a business associate.

He wore a three-piece suit under his white coat, the kind of formality that screamed private practice for the very wealthy. The kind of doctor who made house calls to monsters. "Dottore Marchetti. " Silvio's voice had transformed completely. Gone was the sobbing, emotional wreck from minutes ago. Now he was all business, controlled and precise. "Thank you for coming on such short notice." "Of course, Silvio. You said it was urgent." The doctor's eyes found me, bound to the chair, face still covered in drying paint. If he found the scene unusual, his expression didn't betray it. "This is the young lady?"

“These people are way too into Ninja Turtles, bro.” Before the Alabama brothers could embarrass Valerian any more, the door swung open, revealing the slickest-looking guy I’d ever laid eyes on—bright, almost platinum blond hair swept back, small round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His face looked like some Renaissance artist had chiseled it from marble. He wore a tailored blazer over a dark gray turtleneck, slim slacks, and bright white high-top sneakers. I did a double-take when I spotted the Prada logo on the side of the shoes. Everything about him screamed money and total self-assurance. Who the hell was this guy? The man—Donatello, obviously—smiled. “Valerian. My friend.” He

I don't know what yet, but something is definitely wrong. The moment I close my door, I cross straight to the box again. I examine the coat more carefully and snap another photo, this time capturing the whole coat, then carefully check for any other identifying marks. No brand label visible on the outside, but when I check the inner collar, I find it. Bellatore. Milano. My fingers tremble slightly as I type the name into G****e. The results load, and my eyes widen. Bellatore is a high-end Italian brand that specializes in custom loungewear and robes. I click through to their website, and the prices confirm it. We're talking thousands of dollars for a personalized robe or coat.

The corner jabbed into my arm. "No. They’re not. Now put those on." She commanded, and I didn’t bother complaining as I opened the boxes and looked at the black patent heels. I slipped them on, hoping I didn’t have to wear them all through the day. They weren’t comfortable at all. "Dolores I have the latest!" A slim man exclaimed upon entering, from his soft pink pants and his silk shirt to his perfect boots, I knew this man was a lover of fashion. "What do you mean, Alistair?" Dolores asked sharply.