Romance In Manhattan Novels & Stories

Scarlett paused, uncertain, then offered a faint smile before settling back into the seat. “Are you alright?” the elderly lady’s voice was filled with concern. Scarlett stared back at the woman. Clearly, she didn’t know who Scarlett was and it gave Scarlett some sort of comfort to finally be with someone that would acknowledge her as a stranger and not the ex wife of Grant Ashbourne. “Yes ma’am, I’m fine thank you. I’m just a bit choked up.” The woman smiled knowingly. “Manhattan has that effect on everyone-too much noise, not enough air.”

Adrian muttered, though I could still see the subtle bewilderment in his eyes. I didn't blame him for being shocked. I didn't do dates. I had always viewed romance as a pathetic, sentimental waste of time. Women were a temporary distraction. When I wanted a woman, I took her to bed, I fucked her until I was satisfied, and then I forgot her name by morning. Left entirely alone, I stood up from my chair and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, overlooking the sprawling, glittering skyline of New York City. My Selvaggia.

She practically fell into the first available empty seat she could find, three rows from the front, dropping her satchel to the floor with a thud. The air in the room had changed. It was charged, anticipatory. All eyes were fixed on him as he placed his coffee and bag on the lectern at the front. He didn’t need to call for silence. His presence commanded it. Scarlett’s fingers trembled as she opened her notebook. She dared not to look up. She bit her lip, trying to steady her thoughts. She had survived. Dr. Clarke began to speak, his voice filling the hall. “Today our topic is ‘Forbidden Romance’.”

"I haven't seen the woman's face yet but Dad mentioned her name, Nicole Rivera." "Ohh, her name is ugly. I'm the one telling you that you two are not suitable for each other." I shook my head. "Of course, we're going to be good, but gosh, I don't want a princess. I want a prince, like duh!" "Besides, you are not suitable either, the man I want for you is handsome, kind, respectful, with a sense of humor! But the more important thing is, you must like the man. Then I will never allow you to marry a man you don't love!" He added.

"Events?" "Gallery openings, charity galas, business dinners. The social calendar of Manhattan's elite is surprisingly demanding." He moved closer, and she caught that familiar scent of expensive cologne and something uniquely him. "Think of it as a costume. The beautiful, accomplished woman who captured the heart of the city's most eligible bachelor." "And what's your costume?" "A man in love." His voice was soft, but there was something in his eyes that made her wonder if it was entirely an act.

Nobody should have the right to look that devilishly handsome with an ordinary half-smile. But Roman wasn't just anybody, he was ‘him’ “We're going to Manhattan,” he said calmly, but there was a tight edge to his words I didn't miss. “What for?” The half smile blossomed, sucking up all the oxygen in the room. “We're going on a honeymoon Callie.”

She stuttered , taken aback of what just happened. “But don't worry you are not my type, even if you weren't my fiance. Plus I have better options than jerking off on your picture.” Her cheeks flushed pink as I responded. “Whatever, fuck yourself the least I care. I am here to talk business not for your bullshit.” She said, trying to change the topic. “Now you are talking about business, good.” I said with a smirk. Which obviously pissed her off. “Get the marriage arrangements cancelled.” “As far as I know the Romano family is very prominent in Tribeca , and Mr. Romano , you are older than me.” She responded. My eyebrows frowned unaware of what she was trying to point out here.

When the waitress brought us two menus and two waters without a second glance, I felt a wave of relief so strong it made my head light. Jax sat across from me, his shoulders still tense. "The film review," I started, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Jax, I saw it too. On the big screen. I didn't realize how much I was letting show. I thought I was being so careful." "You were," Jax said, tracing a scratch in the wooden table. "But you can't fake the way you look at someone you love, Liam. Not for sixty minutes a night, four nights a week."

*** POV: DANTE Dante Romano watched the woman beneath him scream another man's name and felt murderous rage mix with dark satisfaction. Isabella Russo. Dimitri Valentino's betrothed. The woman who was supposed to marry the Devil and unite two of the most powerful families in Italy. Currently face-down on her bed, taking Dante's cock like she was made for it, moaning for a man who'd rejected her. Pathetic. Beautiful. Perfect for what Dante needed. He'd approached her three weeks ago at one of Rome's exclusive clubs, the kind where mafia royalty came to play. She'd been drunk. Angry. Looking for someone to fuck the pain away.

“You wouldn’t fall apart. You’d be taken apart. Piece by piece. By men who don’t find you entertaining.” A shiver licked down her spine before she could stop it. She hated that he felt it—knew it. She forced a smirk, tilting her head so the light caught her cheekbone just so. “Then I suppose I’d better keep you entertained, Mr. Romano.” His mouth curved faintly, with a dangerous edge. “You already do.” For a moment, silence. The city stretched below, glittering and merciless. Between them, the air was taut, balanced between threat and temptation.