Sir Pentious Wallpaper Novels & Stories

My condition is too sensitive for this. "That means you are more interested in seeing me become a prostitute and tease Jackson." "With your condition being pregnant?" "Just try me!" "Hah, a second ago, I thought you were a respectable lady! So you have a wild side like this." I stood up, got up from the sofa, and turned to look at the expensive painting displayed on the room's wall. Below the painting are four urns in a row—a specially designed jar, probably from Mattia's home country. "How should I address you from now on? Sir, because I work with you or my husband because I am your wife?"

A soft click, and the door swung open. We stepped inside the penthouse. I stopped for a moment, taking it all in — the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that reflected the shimmering city lights, the skyline that stretched endlessly into the night. The place was breathtaking. My eyes landed on a worn white couch near the glass wall, littered with black and white striped pillows. On the glass coffee table in front of it, a stack of magazines lay open. I smirked to myself. Probably some sexy adult magazines, I thought with a teasing grin.

His custom hand-wraps—the ones Jack had given him, woven with the single pink thread—were meticulously cleaned, hiding the swollen, battered knuckles beneath. He looked like an immovable monolith of dark granite. He felt like shattered glass held together by freezing tape. The heavy glass doors of the Sovereign's Penthouse glided open. The room was a breathtaking sanctuary of light and color. Holographic banners of shimmering silver and pink drifted lazily through the air. The floor was carpeted in a fresh layer of glowing Pink Blossoms.

The moment the heavy doors closed behind me, the noise dulled down and was now replaced by the faint hum of distant music and the soft creak of the marble floor beneath my heels. My heart was pounding loudly against my chest. This was the only opportunity I had to be here. Mr. Williams’ office had to be somewhere nearby, and if my instincts were right, then it might hold something about my family. Something about the Romanos. I walked quietly down the hall, the dim lights casting long shadows on the walls. The penthouse was massive; the polished door at the end of the hallway caught my attention almost immediately. The color of the door stood out, with heavy oak, a brass handle, and a dark r

“You invited me.” He smiled faintly. “And you accepted. That’s not something you do easily.” “I don’t do a lot of things easily,” she said, stepping past him. “Especially trusting people.” “Good,” he murmured, closing the door behind her. “You shouldn’t.” The penthouse was stunning — all glass and shadows, soft music humming through hidden speakers, a scent that reminded her of smoke and rain. But what caught her attention wasn’t the luxury. It was the wall across from his desk — covered in photographs, sketches, and fragments of fabric.

When we arrived at the hall, Mr Dennis handed the key to Daniel, he then unlocked the door and quickly turned around to Mr Dennis. "Has my wife's clothing arrived?" “Yes sir. We had them put into the closet. We also had the cleaning staff make sure everything was ready for you.” Mr. Dennis answered. “Thank you, that will be all.” Daniel dismissed him and he ran off without another word. The penthouse was amazing. The walls were pastel white, and the floor was dark brown stained hardwood. The furniture was mixed between white and cream. My father took us on expensive trips, where I saw some nice penthouses but nothing compared to this one.

I never heard Livius answer again because Morris had already pulled me out of the elevator. When we entered the penthouse I immediately looked around. The place is huge. The interiors were colored gray and pitch black. All corners are clean and organized. On the living room, the view of the wide city can be seen. The furniture there is if not white or black, gray. The sofas were black, very manly and dark. Its owner is undeniably men because of the furniture designs and the color of the walls. "You have a good taste, huh." He turned to me. He get my bag and bouquet then put it in the sofa. He grabbed my waist and instructed me to sit there.

What other surprises would she learn about him? The main foyer of the penthouse was just as stunning. Tall, arched ceilings with exposed beams, white walls with gold trim accents, marble flooring, and the whole left side was made of glass windows offering an amazing view of the city. But really could she expect anything less from Grayson Godwin, she wondered as Mr. Duvall led her past the white grand piano. What she did notice was missing, seemed to be any personal family photos. Perhaps in the bedrooms or living room?

Expensive artwork decorated the walls and everything smelled faintly of polished wood and luxury. It was beautiful. Another oversized door stood directly ahead. Mr. Steele walked toward it without a word. I watched him place his thumb against a fingerprint scanner mounted beside the frame. A green light flashed. The lock clicked. Then the door swung open. The penthouse beyond looked like something torn from the pages of a magazine. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded the entire living area, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Soft lighting illuminated sleek furniture arranged across polished marble floors, while expensive artwork and modern decor filled the space without making

one said. “And people were saying they aren’t a good match... this is chemistry... chemistry, baby,” another whispered. “And it will be chemistry when you sleep on an empty stomach,” Agatha growled from behind. “Gracious!” the two servants yelped and hastened their steps. Liora leaned into Keal’s embrace. The staircase within the penthouse was long, unlike that of the pack house that was outside. The décor was beautiful: a beautiful shade of snow white and ash black, with a touch of baby blue. The curtains were heavy white and black, and a white couch sat in the top-floor living area.