Stolen Glances Novels & Stories

Loveth stopped in her tracks, turning to face her with a serious expression. "Dianna, that man is more into you than you realize. I saw it. He’s protective, possessive, and incredibly jealous whenever another man even looks at you. Did you notice how he practically burned holes into the waiter last night just for staring at you? Or how he watches Collins like a hawk anytime he gets too close? That’s not just random behavior—that’s the reaction of a man who has feelings for you." “But he—”

When she looked at me, her gaze was soft. The way she stared made my skin prickle. I stopped two steps away from her. "Lucas, is there really no chance for us?" I did not answer. She gave a bitter smile. "I understand. You don’t want to be with me anymore." In the next instant, she lunged at me with a metal skewer in her hand. Her face was twisted with rage. "Then you don’t need to live!" Thankfully, I was prepared. I shifted slightly and avoided the attack. With a sigh, I grabbed her wrist and flipped her over my shoulder. The police rushed in immediately and restrained her.

“You do not miss much, do you?” “Never,” he said. His eyes lingered on me in a way that made it impossible to look away. We drifted into conversation, subtle, effortless. Flirting hidden beneath words that could pass as casual if anyone was watching. My pulse raced every time he leaned slightly closer, every time his hand brushed mine on a glass of champagne. I could not look away. Not really. I wanted to. I had to. But the thrill of being noticed, of being desired without expectation was addictive.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and he could only lower his head in helplessness. A man who once powerfully dominated others now lacked even the courage to lift his eyes and face Don Conway. Mother could no longer hold herself up and collapsed onto the floor, letting out a cry of despair. Lastly, there was the diary. Don Conway took it and casually flipped through a few pages. A mocking smile appeared at the corner of his lips. He closed the diary, and while looking at the pitiable people before him, he slowly said, "A stolen gun, and a stolen life… The Shaws are quite entertaining."

"Didn't you say my mom scraped together fourteen thousand three hundred dollars for you? Where's the money?" His lips moved, but nothing came out. "Spent it all?" He dropped his head. "You had a lot to say before. Said I lost to you, said you won. What about now?" He was on the ground, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. "Nathan, I was wrong... So wrong... I shouldn't have stolen your money, shouldn't have taken your scholarship... Just let me off..." I stood up and looked at him. "Kevin, the problem isn't that you stole my money or took my scholarship. The problem is you thought the world would always be on your side. The problem is you thought my parents would always have your back. T

He looked at me, and for the first time, his composure didn't just slip—it shattered. He didn't move for a long beat. His dark eyes traveled from the crown of my head down the length of the red silk, lingering on the exposed skin of my shoulders. When his gaze finally met mine in the mirror, I saw something raw and predatory flare in the depths of his pupils. "You look..." He trailed off, clearing his throat as he stepped into the room. "You look like the girl who stole four million dollars and made me thank her for it."

Instead, it felt like I had accidentally walked onto a stage. People kept looking. Not staring outright. Just those quick little glances people make when they think you’re not paying attention. Then whispers. Then more glances. Then somebody actually pointed. My stomach immediately dropped. “Nope.” Lila looked up from her phone. “What?” “Nope.” She followed my gaze toward a group of girls standing near the entrance. The second they noticed us looking, they turned away. Too late. I had already seen them. Lila sighed. “Oh.” “Oh?”

You've been targeting me all this time because you wanted my wife, didn't you? [You deliberately stole my wife's underwear so you could manufacture a chance encounter. You're unbelievably vicious.] [I finally caught you yesterday. What do you have to say for yourself now?] [You like being the other man that much? I bet some rich woman bought your apartment for you too.] I instantly exploded. Then he started flooding the chat with screenshots from his home security cameras. The images showed Vanessa holding her underwear as she walked out of my apartment. I was genuinely impressed. The man could turn black into white without blinking.

No clicking guns or sharp, threatening stares. Instead, the space was filled with people. Workers. Their movements were deliberate, precise, almost mechanical. They barely looked at her as she passed, though Wren felt the weight of their stolen glances, eyes flitting toward her like ghosts before vanishing again. The air was thick, suffocating in its silence, broken only by the occasional shuffle of footsteps or the dull scrape of something being moved.

She's twirling the blade in her hand, so I'm guessing the blade must have caught the afternoon light from the windows and had me saving my eyes from the sharp light. But wait, something seems off with her. At first, I thought she’s just bored. But my eyes keep drifting to her. And every few minutes, she’s always stealing glances at Declan. Every time, she always tries to act like she isn’t doing it. But she is. It keeps happening, and I keep noticing the pattern. Every time Declan speaks, her eyes flick toward him—just briefly—then dart away. The glances are always so quick like she's trying not to let others know what she's doing.