Rizzoli & Isles Fanfiction นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Ricci replied smoothly. Isabella felt the tension heighten all over again. She stood slightly behind Lorenzo now, one arm protectively wrapped around the child against her chest while the other rested lightly on the wall beside her for balance, exhaustion still pulled painfully all over her body but adrenaline kept her mind painfully alert. Too alert because she too could feel the story unraveling, thread by thread. Ricci took another calm step forward. “You know what the most fascinating thing about betrayal is?” he asked conversationally. Nobody answered and he smiled anyway.

We stood in the middle of my dorm room, staring at each other like every other space around us did not exist. Rowan flashed across my mind again and I couldn't help but think if Ellis was doing something like that too behind my back. No! Block that thought out of your mind, Isla. In order to push it further away from my head, I threw my hands around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Ellis didn't hesitate to reciprocate. His hands wrapped around my waist in milliseconds, pulling me closer into himself as he moved against my lips in the most perfect rhythm.

“Zara, I didn’t—” “Oh don’t even! Don’t you dare stand there and act all innocent!” she snapped, pointing at me like I was some villain caught in the act. “First you disappear for months, and now what? You come back and suddenly Grayson Voss is picking up your pen like you’re someone?! Since when are you someone, Isla?” Her words stung. God, they stung. “I didn’t ask for that....” I tried, voice small, because what could I say? I didn’t ask him to look at me. I didn’t ask for any of this.

Rozelyn hopes it will be sooner as she could no longer wait to see her bestfriend wed, especially during these upheaval times that chaos in Shamrock prevails. “She sees the world through the color brown. Her hair is adorned with a luscious red crown. She smiles like a wolf and cries like a sheep. She is the Blood Mistress even if everyone sleeps,” she repeated Isla’s words as she lay on her purple-colored bed and stared at her starless ceiling. “What the freak does that mean!” She shrieked, but not too loud. In frustration, she threw her pillow at the top of her wooden cabinet and knocked down a family picture of her, Cyrill, and Romaine.

"I’ve spent twenty years whispering in that house, Isabella. I know exactly what he needs to hear." I turned back to the mirror. I took out a small kit Silas had given me, one he probably thought I’d never use without him. I picked up a vial of dark hair dye. Isabella was dead. Valencia the Empress was a ghost. The Phoenix was rising. And she was going to burn everything Antonio Rossi loved to the ground. "Let’s get to work," I said. As I began to transform, my mind drifted one last time to Silas. I wondered if he was watching me through some hidden camera Jax hadn't found yet. I wondered if he was drinking alone in his manor, hating me.

Blackmailed into wearing another woman's face, Isla Virelli, an elite con artist, agrees to impersonate Celeste Voss, the missing fiancée of Elias Hargrove to save her best friend’s life. She never planned to feel anything. She never planned to stay. But on the day she is supposed to walk down the aisle, Cassian Hargrove kidnaps her from the bridal room and marries her himself, because he can’t lose the woman he loves for a second time. Now trapped in the wrong marriage, Isla is caught between two powerful brothers, a collapsing empire built on lies, and the shocking truth that the real Celeste is her long-lost sister. As buried secrets surface and her false identity is exposed to the

“She definitely is.” Riley appeared in the kitchen doorway seconds later. Her eyes moved between us slowly. “Wow.” “What?” I asked. “You two disappeared for five minutes and the tension somehow got worse.” “There is no tension,” Isabella said calmly. Riley laughed. “You both need therapy.” Bella called from the couch. “Riley, leave them alone!” “I am not bothering them!” Riley protested. Then she pointed dramatically between us. “I am documenting history.” “Please stop,” I said.

There had to be something I was missing, something my brain wanted from this that I hadn't quite grasped yet. Maybe if I finally gave in to it, it would leave me alone. It was hard to control your dreams, but this felt like all that I could do. Soon enough, before I even realized it, I was standing on the rooftop with a woman, no, with Isa standing before me, looking at me with hooded eyes, her hands resting on my biceps with her fingers lightly clutching my suit jacket. Isa Loveless. Yes, it was definitely her. But wh—

Because that is exactly what I wanted to do. “Remind me why I’m doing this again?” I muttered. “Because Ricci would have made your life hell if you didn't,” Isabella smirked while crossing her arms. She has obviously come to realize that I wasn't as much in love with Ricci as she had expected. “And, deep down, you know you love drama.” I shot her a glare. “I do not.” She shrugged. “Whatever you say.” I grimaced, massaging my temples. This was insane. A fake honeymoon? Ricci had already ghost-written me into matrimony, and now he wanted to fly, shoot and edit a whole vacation?

“At least I was here. While you were off playing house with some rival’s whore in Spain, letting Victor poison your mind against the only good thing you ever had. You think those letters never reached you by accident? Or that Isla jumped into my bed the moment your plane took off?” Dare’s fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening. The possessive fire in his eyes made my breath catch. “You manipulative bastard. You were the bridge for those letters. How convenient that they vanished while you played the sympathetic friend. And now you’re here, whispering about my ‘scandal’ like you didn’t orchestrate half the rumors yourself to keep me away.” He turned to me, voice dropping to that dang