Novel & Cerita Sir Pentious Wallpaper

No life. The penthouse was a study in severe, expensive minimalism. Vast sheets of glass offered a panoramic, dizzying view of London’s night-time tapestry—a river of diamonds and shadow. The interior was all pale marble, charcoal textiles, and sharp, uncompromising lines. It felt less like a home and more like a lair. A very clean, very controlled lair.

More⁠tti Tower.​ The Pent‌house. Three Weeks Late⁠r. T‌he Pent​house⁠ smelled like l​avender baby‌ lo‌tion and fre​sh lilies.‍ It was j⁠arring, in the best‍ possible way. Three weeks ago, this room had‌ smelle⁠d of cordite, d‍rywa‌ll dust, a‌n​d co​pper. Now, the shattered f‌loor-to‍-ceiling windows had been replaced with pr⁠istine‌,‌ reinforc‍ed g‍lass th⁠at gleamed in the late afternoon‌ sun. The ruined marble island was brand new.

The penthouse of the Waldorf-Astoria was a masterpiece of Art Deco opulence—gold-leafed ceilings, hand-stitched silk wall coverings, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of a Manhattan currently in the throes of a biological revolution. But as the clock on the mantle chimed midnight, the opulence felt like a shroud. The air was thick with the scent of Julianna Ares’s perfume—a rare Moroccan jasmine that now smelled like a funeral wreath.

she replied with a stern expression ***** As soon as we got to the penthouse, lady Delilah encouraged me to go in alone, as no one was allowed to enter the luxury and mighty Penthouse without the Alpha's permission. I walked in slowly as I stared at the chandelier in the sitting room. It was beautiful indeed, I noticed his large portrait painting hung on the wall. I moved closer, staring at the portrait of my father's enemy. “Do you love it?” A voice erupted from behind. I knew it was him

She lifted her head and opened her eyes. God, who the heck had lived here? The wallpaper was awful. Black and silver interlocking circles, supposed to be modern, just looked crap. It certainly wasn't a house paper, more like a nineties night club; she could see that someone had once painted the walls black as well. Crickey, it must have looked like a cave. The wall behind her was painted a pale mauve colour, like mouldy Parma violet sweets.

“Why are you sighing anyway?” “Come here and help me pick a product.” She quickly stood up and walked towards my chair and I pulled her on my lap, inhaling her sweet cherry scent, and showed her the screen of the laptop. “This is purple damask wallpaper and this is red and black vinyl wallpaper. Which one do you think will suit this room?” Her eyes were wide and glittery as she squinted at the three-dimensional model of the room and aped at me. “Is that a pole?”

After saying those words with his stoic yet intimidating face, he left me alone by the door and let the door opened ajar. Unwillingly and with shaking body-due to the fear of this evil and the cold rain, I step forward and enter the penthouse. It is dominated by the minimalis furniture and mostly by glass. The room is covered by a black wallpaper. There's a flat television hanging by the wall, in front of a black leather sofa. The floor is layered by the light gray carpet. I want to turn back to the door and open my dirty and wet shoes, but stopped suddenly when he says something relaxly,

"Answer me clearly, Mr. Marcini. Why are we here? This isn't yours, right?" "Oh, it's mine, kitty!" what? "And you're gonna stay here for a while, till I settle that boy toy of yours!" he smirked. WHAT?! If you had seen a ghost before, that's exactly my expression at the moment. My mouth formed an o shape upon seeing the inside of his penthouse. This screamed LUXURY! The entrance room, covered in light dark wallpaper with minimal decorations, only a painting of a young woman and a bronze statuette of Saint Sebastian. The striking pose of the tormented but beautiful nude youth, who was leaning against a truncated tree and bending his left arm back behind his head, made my brows furrow.

"What in the world...?" The entire penthouse had been transformed while I was at work. The large stone fireplace was roaring with bright orange flames, and dozens of small, twinkling fairy lights were draped across the mantle and the dark window frames. On the large coffee table in the center of the room, hundreds of red rose petals were scattered in a perfect circle. And in the center of the petals, there was a small, beautifully wrapped white box, and behind it, giant silver foil balloons were inflated, spelling out five clear words across the leather sofa: WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND?

LIAM’S POV The key turned smoothly in the lock of Sophia Valenti's penthouse. Liam had kept it, a forgotten artifact from a relationship that had been more about convenient appearance than feeling. He stepped inside, the door whispering shut behind him, sealing him into her world. It was a world of curated perfection. The air smelled of tuberose and expensive cleaner. Everything was shades of white, cream, and metallic silver. A large abstract painting, all violent slashes of crimson, dominated one wall – the only hint of passion in the sterile space. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed a postcard view of the city, but the room felt like a beautiful cage.