Novel & Cerita Seven-month Itch Full House

Twisting the door handle, he opened it only to reveal the pizza man. “Pizza delivery.” Chris said smiling, he had to snap his finger to get Iago who was fidgeting at his neck. Seeing his blood flow, Iago rolled his eyes, his face almost changed but he snapped out of it, he put his hands into his pocket before he pulled out some money. “Hey. Can you help me with something inside? Please, it's urgent and I have been trying to fix it since morning.” Iago said with a nice tone. “Oh, sure. Let me take a look.” Chris agreed before he stepped into the house. Iago shut the door before putting the pizza pack on the couch.

“Stand up Ruth, go and continue your chores. “I said to Ruth who shook her head negatively. She looked scared and confused. “I said go. “I said to her helping her up. “Since when did you become the boss around here huh? “He asked in furry. “Cool down. Your blood is just boiling for nothing… “I said rubbing my hand round his back. Ruth scurried away. He closed his eyes like he was enjoying it. “Want a massage? “I asked. I just want to take his mind off Ruth and calm him down before he burns down the house with his anger. “I don’t need a massage. “He mumbled. I knew he wanted one. “Don’t be stubborn sir… Let’s go to your room. “I said. He nodded sheepishly and took his hand into mine. I led h

Clara was sitting near the central buffet, her knuckles white around her plate, her eyes tracking our joined fingers with pure, competitive fury. But it was Dominic who drew my gaze. He wasn't glaring. He wasn't drinking whiskey. He looked utterly exhausted, his expensive designer watch conspicuously missing, dark shadows bruising the skin beneath his eyes. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in forty-eight hours, completely humbled by the loss of his family holdings. When his eyes found mine, the arrogance faded instantly. "I made a lot of mistakes, Hazel," Dominic said quietly, walking straight over to our table and completely ignoring Axel. He placed a small, silver keychain on the whit

I wanted to watch his eyes and see, finally, what had always been hiding behind them. The house was quiet at that hour. Our son Luca was at school. The pack members were out on their morning duties. My heels clicked against the marble floor of the east corridor and the sound felt too loud, like the house itself knew something had shifted. Damon's study door was not fully closed. I raised my hand to knock. And then I heard it. A laugh. Soft and low. The kind of laugh that belongs to a moment that was not meant to be shared. I pushed the door open.

After three months away, I was finally home. I asked the house's male housekeeper, Jacob Miller, to give me a hand carrying my luggage upstairs. Jacob hoisted the suitcase but had barely taken a few steps when—bang—the luggage crashed to the floor. He clutched his wrist, wincing in pain. The noise startled the three women on the sofa. They jumped up and rushed toward him, surrounding him with frantic questions, fussing as if he were about to shatter. They scrambled for ointment, massaging his wrist with careful fingers, treating him like fragile porcelain.

But the moment I touched him, he recoiled—like I was laced with wolfsbane. He pushed past me as he bolted into the bathroom where the sounds of violent retching echoed. I was left standing, a wave of shame washing over me. I had planned everything—the red wine, the music, the underwear, the perfume. I had envisioned a perfect night, but Lucas couldn't even bear to touch me. Why? I turned to the mirror, searching for an answer in my reflection. Behind me, the gagging continued, each heave slicing deeper, over and over. It was as if my mate was vomiting out his revulsion for me.

“I’m proud of you.” Seven did not answer. When she was done, he thanked her and went out of the door. Outside, Milkos was waiting. His back against his new car, grinning from ear to ear. Clad in ripped jean shorts and a vintage shirt. The night was breezy so the wind played with the loosely fitted shirt, making his chest visible. Seven’s face brightened at the sight of his friend. “Is this you?” Milkos gagged as Seven walked over. “No, it’s YouTube.” They hugged.

"Ash, find a time to come pack up your things and leave! Your hand is ruined. What use are you now? I'm officially notifying you that you are fired from the studio!" That single call made Ivy’s expression even more uncomfortable. For some reason, there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes, along with something like anticipation. I did not notice her reaction. My thoughts were in chaos, my voice sinking unconsciously. "So... I really will never be able to compete again?" Ivy hurried to reassure me, "Of course not. You have a comminuted fracture in your hand, so it is serious, but it is absolutely not that bad. You will definitely be able to return to professional play in the future."

"I have to thank Hailey for helping me with my live stream last time. Otherwise, Harry and I wouldn't have reached a million followers. I made this oat porridge myself early this morning, just to thank you, Hailey." Her words struck my heart like a dagger. I wanted to forget that Harry had thrown me into the crocodile pit. But that incident lingered in my mind like a shadow that wouldn’t fade away. After all, he was my husband whom I loved for seven years, and I always thought about giving him one more chance. But was Emily trying to provoke me with her words? After she finished speaking, Harry thoughtfully brought her a new set of cutlery from the kitchen. Seeing his gentle and considerate

He lifted his foot and waved it around, saying, “Kid, this is a check for one million dollars. If you lick my shoe clean, you can have it.” The crowd burst into laughter. They were now looking at Chase as if he were a clown. “Only Mr. Huey can afford to insult someone with one million dollars.” “Do you think he’ll do it?” “I think he will! One million dollars! It’s enough for an ordinary person to lead their entire life!" As Huey listened to the crowd’s discussion, he smiled even more despicably at Chase. “Kid, am I speaking too softly or are you deaf? “I asked you to lick my shoe, and I want you to kneel when you do it!”