Stefan Salvatore Hair Novels & Stories

“Yes. I can switch at anytime though. Girlfriend today, sissy tomorrow. Depends on my mood. Today, I’m in the girlfriend zone.” I beamed, shaking my head at his weirdness. “Alright, if that’s what you want. To the dirty wear, it was just a stain.” “A big, ugly, stigmatizing stain.” “Stigmatizing?” “Yes. You’d be known as the Salvatore who walk round campus wearing dirty clothes and a sticky hairdo. Don’t you like your new look?” “It’s really refreshing to be in something new.”

The heels were a black pair of Christian Louboutins and it added a couple of inches to my height. My hair was styled into loose curls and pinned to one side, falling over my shoulder. "Oh, mummy looks beautiful." I turned around to see Zion and Autumn standing at the door with their father who was awestruck. "Wow." Lorenzo said, and a smirk crept up on my lips. "You like it, Mr. Salvatore?" "Like? I'm loving it. You look gorgeous, Mrs. Salvatore." "Why thank you, Mr. Salvatore." "Where are you two going?" Zion asked, curiously.

My head turned, and my smile just spread, my heart nervously hammering. “Our beautiful Lethu.” Salvatore said, pulling me right into a hug as if I was his favorite little sister. I closed my eyes and nearly sighed as he took me into his large chest. The resemblance between them was there but not so obvious. Salvatore was taller, buffer and larger. He looked less dangerous but more into the billionaire CEO vibes. His cologne, just insanely good and he was so warm. I wanted to drown in those arms. “Are they bothering you? Don’t let them coerce you into anything.” He continued as I pulled back, grinning like an idiot. His smile was something else. The man would sell even shit and I would buy.

“I’ll take back control of Vegas. If only Harold was alive to witness this moment, he'd known it was foolish going against my order and keeping you bastards alive,” “The only bastard was the useless mutt I sent a bullet to his head,” Lorenzo's face was a mask of fury. He was talking about Viktor. I still couldn't believe they were stepbrothers. “And I'll make sure to keep you alive and watch how I'll tear apart Dario and Savio. I rip out their organs, and you'll watch me feed it to them,” Salvatore stood up from his chair, and I suddenly felt sick. Bile turned in my stomach, rising to my throat. “No, I think I have a better idea. I'll make you do it, just exactly how you ripped out your moth

It's so obvious. I snort in frustration while pacing the room before sitting down in front of the vanity and starting to take off my makeup. I’m doing this for a while when my hand freezes in the air, seeing Salvatore emerge from the bathroom wearing only a towel around his hips, wet hair, and drops running down his chest. In one hand, he carries a small towel that he uses to dry his hair. I force myself to continue what I’m doing when he gives me a quick look. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him approach the bed and start removing the pillows.

I shouldn’t feel bad for pointing out the correct thing. Yet…I do. I swallow, voice cracking. “Y-yea.” He clears his throat and packs up our plates, leaving me at the table. I watch him go, his lean and toned body covered in sweat shorts and a jumper. When he returns shortly, I bite down on my lip, just…watching him. Where Stefan’s brown hair is lighter and always styled back, his own is darker and messy, falling over his dark eyes with flecks of gold. The man is gorgeous. I’ve always known it.

When it didn’t come, he’d smiled—slow, sharp, poisonous. “And if I say no?” Salvatore’s eyes had gone cold. “Then I’ll put a bullet in your head myself and send your body anyway. At least that way the Rossis get something useful.” So here he was. Dressed in a tailored black suit his brother’s stylist had chosen—“Look expensive, not flashy,” Salvatore had instructed—like a groom on his way to the altar. Except this wasn’t a wedding. It was a transaction.

He continues. He finally starts talking about work. I focus on him while being thankful. It's easy to talk about work-related stuff. "Sure, go on." Rafe says. "Yes. Please." I say, straightening my posture to look serious and professional. Luke Salvatore has caramel hair, deep green eyes, craggy face and tall built. His persona seems tranquil, but flirtatious. He has coquettish looks and demeanor that would call for women's attention. To me, he seems nice. Hopefully he'll prove himself to be a cooperative business colleague throughout this hotel construction project.

The dark little freckles litter his face and I notice the fake mole that was placed close to his lips. "I see you got an haircut just for me ey?" I tease, fixing his tie. He was wearing a smart grey gabardine suit, a white fitted dress shirt, and a charcoal - coloured tie with a silken sheen. He looks nice I must say. "I have no choice do I?" He raises an eyebrow looking at me with amusement. "Let's go over the plan over again shall we?" Salvatore pauses, giving me a long look and I stare at him in response. "Mr Mateo here will-"

His aura, his dark eyes, his imposing stance. This man must be Dante Salvatore. Tall, perfectly dressed in a black suit that probably cost enough to feed all the children in the north. Dark hair styled back from his face, a carefully groomed beard - mustache and goatee that gave him the look of an old-world prince turned devil. The thin scar running from his ear to his chin cut through the edge of the beard, making him look even more dangerous. The drunk man—Mr. Armani—raised his hands in surrender. "I didn't know, Salvatore. I swear, I didn't know she was yours—"