Pedro Pascal X Reader Novels & Stories

She called. "Yeah? What did you say?" "Didn't you hear me? I asked how your meeting went with Reuben?" "Oh, that, it went better than I expected, since the old man ain't making any final decisions yet and there is only one major rival and that's Pascal," "Wow! Do you mean Pascal Joh?" She hasn't seen him around and didn't expect him here, the guy was a major rival of Lucas even though they deal in different sectors but like Lucas, he also likes buying properties.

A tender and deep voice called out emotionally, making Stefano halt in his steps for a moment before he swayed his head, pushing whatever he shared with the Don into condemnation as he followed after his younger brother. Pascal stood there, alone to suffer from the aftermath of the chaos that just occurred. One of his men walked up to him and he gave a cold and unruffled command. “Get me everything on that young man and have your boss report to my office”. ** They stood, deep frowns on their faces as the Pablo angrily yanked the papers his private detective held out and held it in front of the other Hayes’s face. And tearing his cold lips acridly, “Here, you can see for yourself if you think

Katie Clyde blushed and leaned in to kiss his cheek before hurrying out of the room. Pascal entered his room with a sweet smile on his face. He strode over to his bed and lay down, closing his eyes. As he did, the beads around his neck began to glow with soft light, the curtains around the room started to flutter, and the trees outside his window swayed wildly in the wind. As he lay there, Pascal's mind wandered back thousands of years to a time when he was known as Emperor Georgi. He recalled the day when he had visited a small village, and the villagers had come out to greet him.

His grey eyes looked at me with a mixture of teasing and judgment, that all-too-familiar lopsided smile already perched on his face. I clucked, trying to reach back for my pen, but he just lifted it higher. "Give it back, Pascha." "Wait." He tilted his head, looking at the scribbled page I'd made. "What is this?" I tried to pull out my book, but again, he was faster. "Nothing." Pascha raised one eyebrow, then read aloud. "'Three ways to kill a Romanov without leaving a trace.'" He paused for a moment, then looked at me with an amused expression. "You're planning something I should know about?"

There is no world where I let Alpha Reynaldo touch me. "Has the healer seen you yet?" he asks. I shake my head. "Nobody tells me anything." Pascual pulls out a chair and sits across from me. He does not look like a brother. He looks like a judge. I set my glass down because the water will not go down anyway. I can see it in his eyes. He is not here to be a hero. He is not here to save his little sister. He is here because he has an investment to protect, and that investment is his own rank.

The artist was absolutely familiar with the demon, the similarity, with small differences, is for certain. - Oh no! Everything is very bad! Badly! Badly! Badly! With a noisy exhalation, Pascal dropped himself into a chair. Wrinkling her nose, the fortuneteller looked up, waiting for an explanation. The familiar pulled the book, fixed his eyes on the picture, said doomedly: “The witch’s heart trembled…

Pascal said, his words heavy with malice as he spoke, "Pascal you animal, you'll know no peace," Don Pablo yelled, his voice heavy with anger as he glared at Pascal.

Alessio hesitated. Cassian shouted, “Don’t touch it!” But it was too late. The parchment opened by itself. Across its center… Only one sentence had been written. In Vittorio De Luca’s unmistakable handwriting. “If you are reading this, then everything Cassian told you… was only half the truth.” The cathedral fell into stunned silence. Alessio slowly lifted his eyes toward the Ferryman. Cassian didn’t deny it. He simply closed his eyes. A single tear rolled down his weathered face.

“Christiana. I read about your launches, your partnership with Alejandro…, your designs. Impressive. Very impressive. I didn’t know you had built something so… global.” Pride flickered across her face, quickly masked by suspicion. “Why are you looking into me, Pascal?” He grinned, leaning back. “Because I like to know who I’m dealing with. And because…” he paused dramatically, his gaze sliding to me before returning to her, “… want to help.” I stiffened. “Help?”

“Why?” There was a long minute of silence before he replied. “I never intended to harm you. Joining with Helen was the only way I could get to you without being taken by those men who are constantly by your side. I would have called, but was afraid of the phone being in the wrong hands,” he explained, still losing the ropes. “Why do you want to contact me?” “To tell you the actual story. I needed someone to know that Pascal isn't the devil he's being painted as. He was a saint who got turned into something else. Remember this, Summer. Monsters are made not born.”