Sir Pentious Wallpaper Novels & Stories

‘Now, let me inspect the wound. I lifted my dress hem, revealing the long, healing gash along my thigh. Portia whistled low, then ran her cool fingertips just shy of the scar. ‘That’s nasty. But we’ll fix it. I’ll bring you the good cream—the one that costs more than gold dust. You’ll be baby-smooth again in a month.’ ‘You’re a saint,’ I said, pulling the dress back down. She sat back, grinning. ‘Now for the truly important question. How’s the situation with the penthouse god?’ She pointed a finger at the ceiling.

~ Anabella and Philippe stood by the glass wall, looking out into the city. They were on the uppermost floor of Pentalum, Vescovi’s headquarters. From there, they could see the towers of the other four buildings, each at the point of their pentagram. Anax, NexTeq, Vancor, Pentalum, and Salcom International marked the five corners of Pentorium. The door opened to the office, and Vescovi rushed in with his assistant following him. He looked surprised to see Philippe and Anabella waiting for him.

She felt proud of what she did for once, she did something good. The paint is same as the one outside excluding the shadow grey which would've made it look too manly and less homey. Inside is painted alabaster and corn. The corn wasn't painted but it's one those unique wallpapers that define royalty. Even the wallpapers are enclosed in square shaped p.o.p around it, one of them have a daisy clock that has the shape of a rose. The other two are empty of anything but it still manage to look stylish to her eyes. Just the way they shone in the light and how they brighten up the room is soothing to tensed muscles.

When I looked at him properly, he was on a Jean pant and a white T-shirt with an earplug in his ears, which I just realized was what he took out from his ears when I pulled him back. It was like a staring competition between the both of us, his phone on his hand blinked and I glanced at it, not as if I could help it, you know that instinct to check out something and I did. I actually felt sorry for yelling at him until I saw his wallpaper, it was none other than NICHOLAS HILLS, who was known as this city's biggest playboy. If this stranger's wallpaper was having not only a rude dude but also a playboy, that depicts the kind of person he is.

I was already nervous, and I just needed us to get this over with. The penthouse was beautiful when we stepped out of the elevator. It was decorated so elegantly, with white ribbons hanging on almost every surface, red roses everywhere, and peonies laid out on the long table where the refreshment were arranged. Several expensive pieces of art covered most of the walls, and a life band was playing soft violin music in the distance behind a column. There were so many people around, and most of them were insanely rich people who you only ever heard about in the news. I could estimate that the people in this party alone were rich enough to buy a medium-sized country.

The living room of the penthouse usually looked like a page from Architectural Digest—sleek, minimalist, intimidatingly beige. Tonight, it looked like a craft store had exploded inside a bunker. Tissue paper flowers—lopsided, brightly colored, and taped with aggressive amounts of Scotch tape—bloomed from the backs of the Italian leather armchairs. Streamers made of toilet paper (Ethan’s innovation when they couldn't find crepe paper) draped from the chandelier like gothic cobwebs.

This hotel is designed to exude elegance and grandeur in every way. The penthouse is found quickly enough, and then I’m sliding in the key and swinging the door open. The interior decor exudes a sleek, contemporary style. The sitting areas walls are covered in tastefully arranged black-and-white images of the city, while the big, wall-to-wall windows on the far side are covered in thick black-out curtains. The city lights are bright against the pitch-black sky as the curtains have been pushed open. I step around our bags, which were placed on the floor of the living room. There were two bedroom doors opposite each other.

Ferrer told me not to hurry you. A bitter laugh almost escaped. Caelan Ferrer didn’t do rush. He was rush, and everyone else just sprinted to keep up. Still, she got into the car. She didn't look back. The Penthouse If wealth had a scent, it would be this place. Crisp marble, clean linen, a hint of imported wood polish. The penthouse didn't have the scent of home—it had the scent of a catalog. Glass walls yielded to a view that seemed to be photoshopped. Everything shined. The furniture was sleek, costly. Cold.

Because despite everything: confusion, discomfort, curiosity— She wanted to keep reading. ______ Episode 40 – The Penthouse Party The penthouse was a monument to excess, a glass-and-steel temple perched atop the city’s most exclusive tower. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine from towering arrangements, expensive cigars, and the faint, sweet perfume of ambition. Music, a curated mix of ambient electronica, pulsed at a low, hypnotic frequency, just enough to feel in the bones, not enough to disrupt the real business of the night: the trading of influence, secrets, and flesh.

Her smile was warm but professional. “Thank you,” Mom said. We stepped inside the penthouse, and I had to force myself not to gasp. If I thought the lobby was impressive, this was something else entirely. A floor to ceiling window,with a beautiful view. Beautiful furniture . Abstract art that probably cost more than a house. And everything was in black and white. “Should I get you anything? Water? Coffee?” the housekeeper asked. “No, thank you. We’re fine,” Mom said, smiling.