روايات وقصص ضمن Spoil My Sweet Widow

Spencer was petrified, seemingly struck by thunder. When Cole had no interest in women, he hoped so badly that all the females would throw themselves at his son. Now that Cole had actually slept with Black Widow, he felt like crying instead. “Has Black Widow soiled the most valuable treasure in my family?" Spencer got up with trembling feet while wearing a complicated look on his face. Carson congratulated him insincerely. "Congratulations, Old Master Yorks. You will soon be able to hold your grandson." Spencer said feebly, "What’s there to congratulate? Black Widow is a widow. She’s destined to be cursed. Nothing good is going to come to my son if they’re together.”

"The security droids are idling. The loop is holding, but the core processor is starting to purge the memory. You have three minutes before the house wakes up." "I don't need three minutes," Dante replied. I heard the muffled thud of a flash-bang from the floor above, followed by the rhythmic, clinical pop-pop of his suppressed .45s. He wasn't auditing; he was clearing the ledger. I reached the server vault a chamber of pulsing crimson light that looked like the interior of a heart. And there, sitting in a high-backed chair of spun glass, was the discrepancy I had been hunting. The Widow. She didn't look like a ghost. She looked like a queen in exile. Her hair was a shock of silver, pulled b

Unlike Doll, who had never been given the candy and was as a result changing physically, Spitfire's withdrawal was creating a different kind of thirst. And here, in a place that invoked shadow cravings and secret longings - exacerbated them really - Spitfire saw the sexy tomcat beneath him as something that would be fun to victimize. Hades and Doll were not the only ones who needed saving.

I whispered while crying in pain. He laughed sarcastically and grabbed my jaw. He was holding it tightly, and his eyes were full of anger when he looked at me. "Do you think you'll fool me? Well, let me tell you this, Ms. Xedler. Everything I showed and said was planned. I can't love someone like you again, do you understand? You're just a piece of trash, and someone like you doesn't deserve to be happy." He's right. Happiness wasn't for me after all.

Valerie's unexpected shift to sweetness left William somewhat speechless. … In the evening, Valerie shot Morgan a text right after hopping out of the shower. Valerie: "What was your punishment?" Morgan: "Three days of grounding for me. How about you?" Valerie: "My death penalty magically turned into a clean slate of innocence." Morgan was green with envy. They both hit up Julian. Morgan: "You cool?" Valerie: "Need us to swing by the hospital?" Julian sent them a video of him enjoying barbecue.

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"She acts the grieving widow, but she's been trying to trap me, just because I look like my brother. It's pathetic, really." Hearing the title "Commander," my mother-in-law threw herself to the floor with a fresh wail. "You have to see the truth, Commander! My poor son provided for her, and what did she give him? Just a girl! Now she wants to rob us blind! She's a leech on this family!" Catherine peeked at the commander, then buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with delicate sobs. "Sir, she tried to take my husband and hurt my unborn child... What kind of woman does that?"

The widow. The dead wife. Every gossip article she had ever skimmed came rushing back. Eleanor Cain found drowned. Private lake. Ruled accidental. Family requested privacy. Theodore Cain withdrew from public life. Cain Holdings issued statement. Widow’s Fund established in her memory. Violet stood. She needed sleep. She needed to get out in the morning. She needed to stop touching things in rich people’s haunted rooms. As she turned toward the door, a voice spoke from the shadows behind her. “She hated that photograph.”

Rumors are currency at Blackridge, and lately, my balance has been running low. I weave through the crowd, holding a glass of sparkling cider I have no intention of drinking. Everyone is watching everyone, scanning for weakness, for stories to trade. I keep my chin high, my eyes steady, like none of it touches me. But every laugh, every whisper feels like a hook snagging my skin. Then it happens. “Eva Sinclair,” a voice drawls from behind me. When I turn, the queen bee herself, Miranda Blake, is standing there in a gown that probably cost more than my old apartment’s rent. Her smile is razor sharp. “Funny name, don’t you think?”

Imogen’s smirk widened as if she were enjoying a particularly entertaining play. I knew his mother misunderstood me, but she shouldn't have made such ugly accusations, let alone humiliated me in front of Imogen. I couldn't take it anymore and spoke up. "The future wife is Imogen. Then why did she have to use an aphrodisiac to seduce him?"