Private Desmond Doss Novels & Stories

I don’t know but it feels like we do have this awkward presence for each other and we both don’t know how to make it not an awkward one. “Why did you argue with Primo?” My head was occupied at that moment they fought over me. I still don’t know why and I want to know why they did it. “He’s just an annoying and arrogant peasant who pissed me.” Doom buries his face in the pillow. I replied, “Correction, he doesn’t look like a peasant for me. He’s a company holder and a future CEO.” “But he looks one. Tss,” Doom glared at me. I chuckled to tease him. “Okay, fine! But why were you arguing? And why did you murmur my name earlier?”

“I came here for Olivia.” “And you’ll have her,” Desmond said easily. “The moment I have what I actually want.” “The folder,” Amelia said, holding it up. “Take it. It's yours.” Desmond laughed, soft and genuinely amused, the sound sending a chill down Amelia’s spine. “Oh, my dear girl. I don't want the folder. I have known about that collapse for twenty-five years and I helped him fund the deal that caused it.” He rose from the armchair, cruising the space between them with unhurried, predatory cm. “What I want is considerably more valuable than seven dead men’s paperwork.”

Making a turn, I was headed for his room when someone grabbed my wrist. “Miss Dunes?” His sweet manly fragrance wafted into my nostrils first, but I couldn't remember anyone who had that scent. My left eye was blinded and the right one was blurry, so I couldn't make out his face. “Who are you?” I demanded. “Ohh..” he muttered. “Pardon my impudence.” Letting go of my hand, he stretched the other one out. “Doctor Desmond.” When I didn't take the gesture, he explained further. “I'm your assigned doctor.”

Killing The Betrayer I looked up to see a tall well defined muscular build guy with short trimmed black hair walking up to us, his stature very imposing. Once Derrick sighted him I noticed his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he muttered under his breath, “Desmond.” “So this is Desmond” I thought inwardly apart from what Derrick had earlier told me. I have heard a lot about him earlier when I was doing my research about the Firestorm pack for my vengeance. I stared at him more intensely to get a better view.

Behind a sleek desk sat Damien Voss. He didn’t rise to greet me. He didn’t need to. Power clung to him—cold, perfume-like, intoxicating, and dangerous. “Miss Torres,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “You’re Mr. Punctual.” “Mr. Voss,” I managed. I… I’m not sure why I’m here. He gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit.” I obeyed, trying not to fidget under his gaze. His eyes were sharp, the kind that didn’t invite questioning, and “I’ve seen your file,” he began. Former analyst at Lawson & Co., fired last week.

He was being attended by the best in the field of whatever he needed for assistance in order to recover speedily. "What do you mean?" Denny asked with uncertainty. Chloe and Franco looked at each other. They were silently having a conversation through their gazes which Denny was not having even the slightest clue of what they meant. Chloe hesitatingly nodded her head to Franco, and the old Vero cleared his throat before he spoke with a profoundly ruminative expression. He was looking to Chloe while the words he was saying were obviously for Denny to know. "Desmund's physical injuries might have been positively responsive, but his head had a bad blunt force trauma. His psychological behavior

Or I guess he was her former assistant now, since she had probably fired him by now. I smiled and opened the door. "Desmond," I said pleasantly. "What a surprise. Come in." But Desmond didn't look happy. He pushed past me into the room, his face red with anger. "What the hell did you do?" he demanded. I closed the door calmly. "I did exactly what I said I would do," I replied. "I used the information you gave me." "You said you needed those files to help Marcus find work!" Desmond shouted. "You said you needed access to his old business documents! You said it was for his job search!"

he scoffed, hands raised above her head and looking at her like she should be able to read his mind. Desmond Castillo walked out of his back office and stepped up to her side before she could press for more information. Or before the pissed-off man could deliver on the murderous glare he nailed her with. “We got a problem, Mr. Tarzan?” Desmond asked with brittle patience. He caught his underlying threat laced with a dangerous undercurrent. As a former cop who’d spent the better part of his career busting up drug rings from the inside, a pissed-off mountain man in his bar was an easy day.

Like he was enjoying every ounce of what he thought was control. “Boss, I tried to stop him, he said he would wait here. I told him that he wasn’t allowed in.” My secretary said, and I nodded, knowing how Giovanni was. I couldn’t blame her. Even moving from her place when it comes to a man like him would be dangerous. We all knew he had his ways. “Damon,” he said smoothly, his eyes sliding to Sienna. “And… Sienna. You look well. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Long enough that the compound had started feeling like the whole world. "Dinner?" "Dinner." He held my gaze. "Just dinner." Rosabella made a sound that might have been a cough. "Yeah sure. I'd like that," I said. The rest of the day passed quietly. I worked in the medical bay. Small things. The ordinary maintenance of keeping people functional. Around mid-afternoon Darius appeared in the doorway. Frank's consigliere. The quiet one who watched everything and said little. He had the kind of stillness that came from years of assessing threats and deciding in seconds which ones mattered.