Stand-in Novels & Stories

JFK Airport, 6 AM. I walked out of customs, my eyes red and swollen from the long flight. As I was about to hail a cab, someone called my name. "Miss Isabella Romano?" I turned. A tall man was walking toward me. He wore a perfectly tailored black overcoat, his features sharp and classically Italian. But it was his eyes that caught me—a deep green, so dark they were almost black, and just as unreadable as the ocean.

Introduction Even when Victor Ravelli, the Don, picked out a gift for me, he bought two and let my sister Diana choose first. One was a black diamond signet ring he'd paid a fortune for at an auction in Russia. The other was an obsidian brooch that came free with the diamond. It didn't go with my wedding dress at all. For once, I spoke up, pointing to the black diamond ring before Diana could claim it. "This time, can I choose first?" Victor twisted the family's bone ring around his thumb and ruffled my hair. "Diana's always been competitive. If she can't have her first choice, she doesn't want anything at all. You're just filling in for her. What you wear doesn't matter." I fell silent, sta

"Okay, what do you want to trade for the space? I have to eat now. Haven't had anything since last Tuesday.” Stand shook his head as he folded his arms. "I ain't giving up my space for nothing.” He froze and a small smile tugged at his lips. "Unless, you let me have you for one night, Mira.” I could sell my body to anyone for drugs or food… or anything really, but Stan was where I drew the line. “Not happening, Stan." “Come on," Stan whined. “I'd just stick it in and pull it out before you notice."

She nods her head against mine as she continues to stare off into the distance. About an hour later, Robert, Jenny, Lila, Austin, Archie, and I stood up on the stage. I stood next to Archie, who was l standing in front of a podium with a microphone on it along with a clipboard with multiple points that he needed to get to during the meeting. Robert stood next to him in front of another podium while Jenny stood next to her boyfriend. Lila and Austin stood next to me with a microphone in their hands, in case they had anything to say.

Each step toward the stand feels like a journey through quicksand, my heart racing as I approach the place where I must lay bare my truth. The stand looms ahead, a symbol of both vulnerability and strength, and as I finally take my position, I remind myself that this is my moment to speak out, to reclaim my story amidst the swirling chaos of accusations.

Once upon a time, this place had been my turf. I pushed open the door to see Janae sitting inside with a wide smile. She seemed to have been waiting for me. "You look like a stray dog now, Renee. So what if I'm a stand-in? I'm the one Marcus loves now, and you are nothing. You're not even worthy of being my stand-in now!" she said. I stood there dazedly and looked around the familiar room, feeling like my heart was bleeding. Then, I heard Marcus' voice in the distance—he was shouting and warning me not to do anything to hurt Janae.

Ashley I froze where I stood. My legs turned to roots, joined to the ground, and unable to move as I continued to watch Zane and Zanzi's conversation from a safe distance. “I don't understand, what do you mean Zanzi?” His shoulders became a little squarer, and his voice found a low, almost menacing timbre.

“And you are?” Stan straightened slightly. “Someone who just had dinner with her.” Aiden’s jaw clenched. “I asked who you are.” Stan held his ground. “Stan. I work under Riley.” Aiden’s eyes flicked to me again. Under. The word landed heavy. His fingers flexed against my skin. “Let her go,” Stan said. Aiden didn’t move. Stan’s brows drew together. “She doesn’t look comfortable.” I swallowed. “Stan. Please.” I pleaded softly.

Kara apologized as she slowly approached them. Stan got on his feet to reverence the presence of the governor but Stacy remained sitting holding her cup of drink to her face.

Stan is standing in front of me. “How did you get in here?” I ask quickly looking to the door. It was not smashed in, but it was closed locking everyone out of the room. “Does it matter?” Stan asks angrily. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Packing a bag. I need some space,” I say as I try to move around him. “No,” he replies.