Randall Ascot Novels & Stories

the pastor asked. “I do,” Ethan said firmly. “Why is Rosalyn’s last name Waldorf and not Ascott?” Colton leaned over and whispered to Sierra’s ear. Here she was, totally worried that her cousin was making a huge mistake, while Colton was only thinking about her last name. “Her mom’s an Ascott, but she married her dad who’s a Waldorf,” Sierra whispered under her breath. “And do you, Rosalyn Ann Waldorf, take Ethan Richard Vanderbilt to be your lawful wedded husband, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

It was a star-studded event. Randall was not there just to show his face. He had heard that there would be an auction held in the later half of the banque which featured an incredibly valuable crown. He wanted to win it for Rowena. Naturally, Rowena had refused to attend the event with him. She was not in a good mood. Randall wanted to buy the crown to make her happy. No one expected him to end up in the situation he was in the next morning. The next morning, Randall woke up in a hotel room.

Allysa look at him with her face wrapped in fluster. Allysa stammered, searching for words. "This... this is Runbeirer, isn't it?" A glint of amusement flickered in Randall's eyes. "Indeed it is, my dear. But you seem surprised." ‘Who won’t be surprised?’ Allysa mumbled inside her cheek. She doesn’t have any idea why they are in front of this giant infrastructure. Are they here because Randall suddenly want to buy a scent? Allysa hesitated, her eyes flitting between Randall's face and the imposing building before them. Randall just smiled at her, taking her hand once more and guiding her towards the grand glass doors.

I will not dig my own grave again. * * * "My Lord, you had received an invitation to Mr. Ambrose's ball this Saturday evening in his manor in Scotland," Henry said that evening when Landon and I were having a good drink of a blood of chalice in the balcony of the building. Ball? Another party to attend to, huh? To be honest, I'm not a very party-goer type of person. But I guess I have to get used to Landon's hectic life until we finish our plans and get over with our deal.

Maybe this is why the Grand Charity ball is one of the most important events of the year. "And who might this be?" Ask a lady who I don't recognise. "Another one of his ascots.. who else?" Another one said scoffing. "Well that's one pretty ascot... Mr. Riccardo, would you mind sharing?" Another man said locking her up and down and Riccardo's grip tight and even more on her waist. Regardless he took a deep breath and pulled the smile back on his face.

At the wind winders' pack, when Mark heard that Ashton was now a fugitive and his pack was looking for him, he was shocked. ‘How did the legendary alpha that everyone trembled at the mention of his name become a wanted criminal?’ it did not make any sense no matter how Mark thought about it. Actually, he had never met Ashton in his entire life and only heard of him from his father. Although they were almost the same age, Ashton had accomplished much more than he could ever imagine. The first time he was going to meet him was when they held the summit but Ashton had not shown up until the meeting came to an end.

“When do we start? And when will this end?” * * * Flynn Ascott had never faced any difficulty in life. Growing up with good looks and a lean but muscular body, he had always attracted attention wherever he went. Having the famous Ascott as surname gave more than a boost to his already enhanced qualities. Boys did not dare to challenge him and girls were onto him like pouring rain. He never had any trouble picking up girls.

As soon as they saw us, they sprang to their feet. “How’s she?” Trump asked, and Randall clenched his jaws as he looked at him. “Her legs are damaged. She’d need a wheelchair.” He answered, and they all sighed sadly. “This is more serious than I expected,” Trump mumbled sadly. “Are you alright?” He asked Randall, but he ignored him. “I have one more piece of news,” Randall announced and everyone looked at him again ‘What?’ I answered in my head. “I’ll become the next King of Bedfordshire.”

It was really one heck of a march. ... A/N: werehorse - a shapeshifter who can assume the form of a horse