Silvia Navarro Novels & Stories

Jayden said, "Don't be so loud. I'm not deaf." Silvia was exasperated to the point that she was stamping her foot as she said, "You b*stard, you asked me to join you for a run, but you just wanted to show off, didn't you? Let me tell you, you're not the only one with admirers. There are many men who are after me too. If you dare to do anything... I, I will cheat on you!" "Silvia Turner!" How could this woman say such a thing? She was courting death!

A woman. Another Drakos bastard, to be precise. Another cousin of mine and Charlie’s niece, Silvia Cortez. She was the daughter of Charlie’s younger sister, born out of wedlock before her first marriage. Despite her standing within the family, she was still a member of the family. She worked for the company and her romantic life was closely tracked. She would never be allowed to be with someone like Andre.

She lazily replied. “I don’t like this. Maybe it’s like Franco’s.” She paused but she continued after a moment, “I have bodyguards, so we’re not defenseless.” “But you’re not okay,” he insisted. “I’d be less okay if the person I trust isn’t honest with me,” she said, looking at Lux. “What do you mean, baby?” he asked again, brows shot up. “Silvana Jones…” she began, locking eyes with her husband, “she was once a former waitress at Macho? Did she ask for help from sir Van before?”

The silence between us was louder than any gunfire, heavier than any storm. My hands were still trembling when I closed the folder I had no business opening. I could feel the weight of it in my chest—those neatly stacked documents, photographs, fragments of another woman’s life carefully hidden away in Ethan’s private drawer. Evelyn Navarro.

Celia said. "Starve if you must—but don’t come crying to me when your stomach starts singing opera at noon.” “I won’t,” came Silva’s muffled voice from beneath the covers. “Let it sing. Maybe someone will finally listen to me.” Rolling her eyes with an amused huff, Celia made her way toward the door. “Lord give me strength,” she muttered. “I signed up to be a housekeeper, not a hostage negotiator.” As Celia shut the door behind her, Silvia stared at the ceiling, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Her name’s Cecilia Rodriguez?” The woman nodded as if Silvia had pointed at a cross and asked if the guy hanging from it was Jesus. “Do you happen to know if she lived in Bariloche?” “I think so, yeah. Why? You know her?” Silvia chuckled. “She was my English teacher. Tell her Silvia D’Angelo said hi.” “As soon as they come back. MØRE is touring Latin America right now.” “Touring!” said Claudia. “Wow! Well, let’s hope someday she comes back home to play.”

Jack tells me with a smile " You are the one who holds the power this time. Not her so relax.' " I know but those memory from the past still haunts me." I said when the door to the church opened and entered Silvia with Gabriella, my soon to be wife, who was looking stunning, hot and sexy in plain white yet elegant dress. I can tell why she is famous around the hollywood and known as the number one model.

he says, averting his eyes to inside the condo. I turn my attention to look at Camila, she was laughing with Eliza as they looked through what looked like a photo album. Camila was in one of her off her white shoulder dress shirts, exposing her slim shoulders, her skin looked soft and flawless as always. Blue ripped jeans and red stilletos, her hair was in a high ponytail, givng full view of her face.

When she didn't answer, he gave her a rough shake, choking her until she gasped and clawed at his hand. "You are MacQueen's sister, and that would be reason enough, but you are also Rurik Barinov's mate. We have waited so long for him to show weakness. Now he finally has." The man let go of her throat, and she sucked in sweet, precious air. "Who are you?" she gasped. "I am Luis Silva, head of the Silva family of Buenos Aires." Ahh That explained the Portuguese at least. "So what's your plan?" she asked, all too aware that minutes ago she'd asked her friends the same thing under very different circumstances.

But his attempt to pull her back from the edge faltered, drowned by the thundering silence that followed her outburst. Then, like the quiet crack of a storm forming, Arnav’s voice cut through the air. “Sylvia.” Only her name. Low, firm, but steeped in authority that allowed no defiance. The effect was immediate. Sylvia’s words died on her tongue, her body tensing as though the weight of his voice alone pressed her into silence. “Do you truly believe,” Arnav continued, his tone sharp as glass, “that I would invite you here to humiliate you?”