Novel & Cerita Sweet Afternoons

I highly doubt that. As soon as we reached the penthouse I saw mom standing in the living room. She walked towards me and hugged me tightly. “How are you my sweet little girl” Suzie came in too and heard mom. “Yeah, your sweet little girl got herself pregnant with a mafia’s child” she was always annoyed when mom called me her sweet little girl. “Don’t talk nonsense, Suzie. She’s your sister; not to mention twin.” Mom scolded her and we all entered the living room. Mom made me sit on the couch and went into the kitchen. She made tea for us all and we had our loveliest family get-together of all time.

Arya stared blankly at the coffee in her hands before rating her head to look at the tall butler that Ryker had thoughtfully decided to send to her. “Oh...” “Arya, is there something wrong? Your expression...looks weird.” The butler asked, his concern could be felt from a mile away as he furrowed his brows and stared at her in confusion. He was sure he didn't say anything wrong so what happened? If only he knew that he knew the true relationship between the two ‘lovers’. The time passed by so quickly as Arya was now in the back seat of a luxurious car, far more luxurious than the one Allison drove, and her destination was the Rivera’s company, more commonly known as ‘The Rivera Cooperation’.

We dissolve into laughter, hiccuping through bites of buttery croissants and crumbling chocolate cake, chips that are too fluffy to be legal, and another glass of wine that neither of us says no to. It’s easy. It’s loud. It’s exactly what we needed. And for a few hours, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Main Street hums in that lazy, mid-afternoon way—shop doors propped open, flower boxes overflowing, someone strumming a guitar near the bakery like this is some Hallmark fantasy town and we’re the main characters. Sloane’s arm is loop through mine, her heels clacking with every step, both of us tipsy from croissants, wine, and zero shame.

The plan, in Anton’s mind, had been one of sublime, elegant simplicity. They would finish their torta della nonna, its lemon-scented cream and pine nuts, a perfect, light finale. The last of the Prosecco would be poured. He would wait for the precise moment when the last sliver of sun vanished into the sea, leaving the world in the tender, purple hush of twilight—that breathless pause before the stars took command.

"I'll book us a room at the hotel the day after tomorrow. I'll send you the room number on the day." "No problem! You'd better be on time this time!" Reading her text, I smiled meaningfully. In order to keep up the appearance of being busy, I booked a room at the hotel not far from my company. Then, two days later, I took the day off and stayed in the room, carefully observing the surroundings through the window. My phone chimed. I took it out and saw a text from Hermione, just as I'd expected. "I'm coming up now, sir!"

The entire kitchen smells like warm apple pie, and I lick my lips, seeing the vanilla sauce dripping from it. I immediately dig in, stopping to lift a questioning brow at Daria when I notice she isn't eating. "I'm not much for apples and cinnamon these days. I can no longer enjoy the sugary flavor of sweets that I once found addicting," Daria explains to me in a quiet voice. "The chemotherapy seems to have changed my taste buds, which sucks." I give her a pained smile. "I'm so sorry to hear that." "Yeah, it's sad, but at least there is more pie for you."

during the earlier presentation discussion. “Thank you,” I managed. My voice sounded far away. Dom’s foot nudged mine under the table, soft, approving. “Good girl,” he mouthed when no one was looking. Dessert arrived. We had chocolate soufflé with a crackly top, espresso on the side. I pushed a spoonful around my plate. Every swallow felt impossible, because my body was still humming, aftershocks rippling through me every time I shifted. The wetness between my thighs had cooled, making my skin feel tacky.

Yet, he was willing to accept this punishment. … "Ms. Adkins…" Harper called out hesitantly when she saw my eyes brimming with tears. Snapping back to my senses, I wiped them away and asked, "What is it?" "The person who delivered this said there's something under the box." I lifted the necklace and found a bank card at the bottom. Beside it was a note that read, "Selene, congratulations on your marriage."

Tamara said while passing me a pair of gloves then taking out a pair for herself "this long row is obviusly ice cream we got chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, birthday cake, cookies and cream, cookie dough, mint chocolate chip, butter peacan, pistachio and cotton candy" Tamara said while going down the line and pointing at each flavor I looked as she pointed trying my best to memeorize at least one or two flavors "don't worry you'll get it, it took me a month to memorize where each flavor is" Sydney said

“Even with chips! The sweetness hits first, then that little kick… it’s like my mouth is dancing!” I laughed, watching her with sparkling eyes. “I know, right?” We kept eating like that — crossing arms, feeding each other chips dipped in the hot sauce, laughing every time one of us made a funny face from the spice. It felt so silly and sweet at the same time. For a few minutes, the whole world outside my room disappeared. It was just us, the crunchy chips, the addictive sauce, and the warmth of being close to each other. We had just finished the last few chips when Nyla suddenly started fanning her mouth with her hand, tongue sticking out slightly as she tried to cool it down.