Patricia Westerford Novels & Stories

she said proudly. "Hey! I was about to tell her" he said angrily but she gave him a mischievous smile, "Hi Jim Hi Flora my name is Patricia as I have saw your secret so I am going to share mine with you I am werewolf" she said smiling, "Really? We never saw one in our life mom told us you exist but we never saw her" said Flora.

Nathan turned to me, “Patricia went to high school with us.” “Oh, that explains it,” I smiled. Patricia turned to me. “You must be the infamous Amelie who stole the playboy's heart,” she said, smiling. “I guess so,” I laughed. Patricia reached out and hugged me. “I’m sorry, I’m a hugger,” Patricia stated. “Me too!” I exclaimed. Patricia turned to Nathan, “This one is a keeper, Nathan. Don’t fuck it up!” Nathan chuckled. “Let’s get caking,” Patricia announced. She started opening up all the boxes. “We have five tiers to pick.”

“A reporter from Vanguard has been working with Dean the whole time. Way before Mrs Weston got arrested.” I looked up from the tablet. “What?” “Bradley Peterson,” Reed said, handing me his tablet. “Veteran reporter at Vanguard Media and one of their most recognizable faces. He's been with the company for nearly a decade.” I raised a brow. “And?” “The problem is, this isn't the first time the reporter crossed the line. He publicly harassed Mrs. Weston when she was brought to the precinct.” I gasped. “Are you kidding me right now?” He scrolled through and played the recording.

“I don’t think we’ve met properly.” “I don’t think we have,” I said. “Patricia Vance.” She extended a hand with several rings on it. “I knew Victoria, of course. Lovely girl. Always knew exactly what she wanted.” Her eyes did a slow sweep of me, the dress, my hair. “I’ll admit, you weren’t quite who any of us expected to see standing here tonight.” “Funny,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting it either.” “Oh, I’m sure.” Patricia’s smile didn’t move from its place. “And how are you finding it all? Stepping into someone else’s wedding gown, someone else’s fiancé, someone else’s entire life. It must be like wearing a coat that almost fits.”

I could tell she was a bitch just by her cold stare. She would be in her late fifties or early sixties now. I gave the picture to Nick and started reading what was written on the paper. “Is there anything useful?” Nick asked me after a few minutes. “She is a werewolf,” I mumbled. I continued to read and frowned. By the information Sebastian managed to collect, Patricia was a real bitch. She supported Victor blindly and she gave him some good ideas about eradicating the human race. She was an extremist, there was no doubt about that.

Nathaniel said softly, as if reading her mind. “Do they?” Victoria asked. “Some do.” He took her hand. “Let’s find out.” Patricia was waiting on the front porch, dressed in a simple navy sheath that was elegant without being ostentatious. Her hair, once perpetually lacquered into a helmet of blonde perfection, was softer now—streaked with gray and pulled back in a loose chignon. She looked older. She looked tired. She also looked, Victoria realized with a start, genuinely nervous.

She called fearfully, and looked at chairman Hewitt, waiting for him to say something. Chairman Hewitt stared at Patricia for a few seconds, and waved his hand at Esther. “You can go.” He ordered. “Okay, sir.” Esther said. She bent her neck and walked out. “Good day, chairman Hewitt.” Patricia greeted, filling her lips with a cute smile. Chairman Hewitt wanted to reply with the same energy as Patricia, so he forced a smile onto his face, but it didn’t come out good. “Good day, Matthew Patricia. The president of Ivy organization.”

"Yes sir! At your service!" Glancing at the door, Morris whispered "I believe it is time to pay Patricia a visit" ~~~~~*~~~~~ Patricia flipped through the pages of the 'Women's Style Magazine', skimming through the pages in satisfaction. "Wow, this is so lovely, I should get this for Rachel to wear to our next event" she muttered to herself.

The way I've always been. KILLIAN I couldn't believe I was doing this. Jesus Christ this felt wrong in so many ways. When I stepped into the women's clothing section, Patricia, the woman I'd earlier spoken with on the phone approached me in her oversized sweater and pleated skirt. She was presumably in her late thirties with brown eyes framed by big round glasses. "It's so nice to finally meet you Mr. Fobster." She gleamed, pulling my hand into a shake and letting it linger in mine for longer than was expressly necessary to complete a courtesy.

“You’d better back off. Your perfume is making me dizzy.” The woman snorted in exasperation while the others chuckled. The other woman began to approach Dante. She brought him a glass of Scottish whiskey and smiled sweetly. “Mr. Vittorio, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard your name, but I’ve never had the chance to make your acquaintance. How about this glass of whiskey and a few touches you might like?” The woman named Patricia held out her glass while biting her lips seductively. Her chest was deliberately puffed out to make her breasts look bigger and more tantalizing. She was known as a high-class prostitute in the region’s casino and gambling district.