Penthouse Novels & Stories

Three months. I could do anything for three months. Even this. “Fine,” I said. “Send me the address.” Adrian Vale’s penthouse sat thirty stories above the city, gleaming glass and steel like something cut from ice and arrogance. The kind of place where people lived alone on purpose, just to remind the world how untouchable they were. The private elevator hummed up, slow and silent. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror-polished walls: dark suit, darker scowl, jaw already locked like I was walking into a war zone instead of a job.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 The St. Regis penthouse was no longer a sanctuary; it was a war room.

Then she placed her trembling fingers in his. The moment their skin touched, her breath caught. Heat sparked through her veins, dangerous and unwanted. He closed his hand firmly around hers, leading her inside as though she were already his possession. And maybe she was. The Penthouse The elevator doors slid open to reveal Ethan’s penthouse — a space so vast and opulent it didn’t feel real. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the New York skyline, glittering like a sea of stars. Marble floors gleamed, modern art hung on the walls, and a grand piano stood in the corner as if waiting for some tragic symphony to be played.

We stopped in front of it. 60 stories. All windows. The kind of building that had its own ZIP code. A doorman opened my door before my hand reached it. “Mr. Sterling,” he said. His eyes dropped to Lila, to the carrier, to me. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t stare. “Good evening.” “Penthouse,” Kael said. The elevator was glass. I froze. “Ms. Mbeki?”

Ronan stayed mostly still, but his arm stayed heavy across the back of the seat behind me, a constant reminder of his presence. No one spoke much. They didn’t need to. The air was thick with what had just happened in that office and what was still to come. When we arrived, the penthouse took my breath away. It was on the top two floors of a private building with views of the entire city. Dark marble, black leather, glass, and steel. Everything was expensive and masculine. There were no soft colors anywhere. It felt like walking into the den of three predators who had finally caught their prey.

She loved stargazing, so we knew she would love that feature. We were both glad that she truly liked this place because we worked hard on making it special. Dent informed us that our quarters had been upgraded since the three of us were together. We had not anticipated having the entire penthouse apartment of what Camden classified as a First-Tier Complex. It meant that this complex was a ritzy first-class one. Camden told him that it was great and asked what the rent was for the penthouse. I had not even thought about paying rent. However, Dent told him that it was not his concern, and we would figure out why when he talked to

By three o'clock, Sloane was on her third walk-through in Manhattan, and her frustration was boiling over. The first property was a sprawling, eight-million-dollar penthouse on West Houston Street. It had floor-to-ceiling glass, private elevator access, and sweeping views of the downtown skyline. But as Sloane walked through the master bedroom, she caught herself staring at the main doorway, calculating how easily someone could compromise the terrace doors. The glass isn't reinforced, she noted bitterly. The concierge desk is a joke.

Gale supported me and we continued towards it, he punched in a pass code and the door opened after so we walked right in. The place was so big and beautiful, it had a luxurious view of the whole city at the balcony, a big kitchen to fit a small restaurant. Four bedrooms and three bathrooms, two living rooms. One on the first floor and other up stairs and then a dining and two balcony views. I turned to Gale cause I was so sure of one thing, he hadn't raised enough money to purchase this penthouse. It was too big and so beautiful and comfortable. Gale seemed to notice my look and sighed in a bit of am very much innocent "I didn't buy this place "

the property manager had said with the deference reserved for old money and older influence, "we'd be honored to have you as a resident. Your family's reputation precedes you." The irony wasn't lost on me. The same family name that had imprisoned me was now the key to my liberation. The penthouse was a monument to minimalist luxury—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city's glittering sprawl, furniture selected for aesthetic precision rather than comfort, and enough empty space to make the loneliness feel intentional rather than accidental. I stood at those windows on my first night, watching the city pulse with life below, and understood something fundam

But I knew why I was here and it was expected for third year students to show their so called and and muscles when home alone and doing workouts. So, I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. "Can I come in?" Cold. Detached. I didn’t have time to pretend like I wasn’t pissed. Nate arched a brow, stepping aside. "By all means." I walked past him, eyes barely flickering toward Ryder, who was watching me closely, unreadable. The second I stepped inside— I took it all in. The penthouse was insane. It wasn’t just luxury—it was the kind of place you saw in magazines. Designed to intimidate.