Private Desmond Doss Novels & Stories

“You look perfect like this. My perfect mess.” I pulled back with a wet gasp, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “You’re—horrible.” He smirked. “And you’re trembling.” “Shut up,” I hissed, and took him back into my mouth before I could second-guess myself. This time, his breath broke. “Dio onnipotente.” (Almighty God.)

_Dominic “What is it, spill it out,” I said impatiently. “Boss, we have company,” Vini said and we both got up from our respective chairs. The man I was with started to walk towards the back window and looked out. “I never got your name,” I said as soon as he turned and looked around. “Nikolai, but you can call me Nic,” he said, looking between me and Vini. Nikolai. He was Russian, but even as I searched in the hazy compartments of my brain, there was no Nikolai.

Children or not, they were lethal when let loose. She had heard of Desmond Sr. more times than she can account for. He was a neurosurgeon and his wife an experimental psychologist. Both started as healers in their pack before going to earn their degrees. Her father liked him, Silas not so much. Maybe he was a good person, making the best out of nothing. Because if someone was equally hated and loved, they had to be doing something right. Except, all his righteous work meant nothing since they birthed an abomination like Walter Desmond, or before making his name an infamous slogan, Desmond Jr. The book further read:

“You’re seriously—?” Ross didn’t even look at her again, he pointed his hands towards the door. Mr. Desmond stood, buttoning his jacket with a knowing smile. “She tried to pass off that work as hers. I could smell something was off. That girl’s a fraud. How did you endure all these years with her?” Ross nodded. “I’m sorry for the confusion. The person responsible isn’t available yet, but—” “No need,” Mr. Desmond cut in with a grin. “Whoever wrote those mails and sent those designs—she’s a genius. We’re in. Fully. I could tell Vanessa wasn't the sender. I have something for you after this project is finalized.”

“I just got here, and you’re already lecturing me.” “I’m not lecturing,” she replied lightly, though the sarcasm returned. “Just offering… suggestions.” I rolled my eyes, ready to dismiss her, but CJ spoke again—this time, her tone shifting. “By the way,” she said, almost casually, “I heard something interesting. The Cosmo Company collapsed. Maine invested in it recently, didn’t she?” I froze. Everything inside me seemed to halt. Cosmo Company, which belongs to Brianna, Bryle's older sister. The connection hit me all at once.

She asked. "Who's Desmond?" I asked back. "Seriously, you don't remember Desmond?" She sounded amused. "Am I supposed to remember him?" I asked, confused. "Yeah, you are. You guys played a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got the last cup of coffee one time. You called yourself my coffee saviour that day." She explained. "Oh." I muttered as I recalled who Desmond was. He was one of the older detectives at the station, but he worked with the Drugs and Substance Control Division (DSCD).

“The biggest music record label CEO, popularly known as CEO Dante, is currently under investigation by the board of directors for fraud and embezzlement of company funds.” I froze for a minute, staring at the television in disbelief. My eyes widened as I saw his face on the screen. Dante, in a crisp black suit, walking out of his office building, with cameras flashing all around him. He didn’t speak, or even attempt to answer the reporters screaming questions at him. He just walked straight ahead with that stern unapproachable look on his face.

When she left, I immediately wrapped a washcloth around the dagger and placed it behind my back. I did look like a princess, but not waiting for my prince charming. But my nightmare is waiting for me. Another maid was standing outside the door who was probably waiting for me. “My lady, please come with me.” She said politely, not daring to raise her head. STRANGE! It was totally strange how she was addressing me so politely because demons hate angles as far as I know. Then why? She showed me the way to the master bedroom of Dimitri. As I kept walking, I was slightly shaking.

Emmi from Wolversons, I smile at that. “Too late, D already put my number in her phone this morning. Feel free to message me anytime Daisy, it will be wonderful to have another woman close who knows how hard it is.” She winks at me and I think Oscar groans, I think it was Oscar. “Okay, so.” I look between them and decide to try to guess who is who. I point to Roland first. “You’re the crazy one who likes torture.” I point to Diogo. “You’re the soft one.” I look between Jax and Oscar, which are they? “You’re both hard Doms,” I say and they laugh.

But Damon just smiled, his eyes glinting with ruthlessness. "I'm afraid it's not negotiable, Mr. Kendrick," he said. "Either you agree to my terms, or we walk away." Kendrick's face paled, but he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, deal." Damon smiled, feeling a rush of triumph. He stood up, his eyes never leaving Kendrick's face. "Welcome to the team, Mr. Kendrick," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure we'll have a very... profitable relationship."