Taste Of The Sky Novelas e Histórias

Dropping the words with Andrea leaning close to Sky, and her raising her brow up and down with a betting eye, they both expected to find Sky sweating on his seat. “Waiter.” Sky distracted, calling for a glass of water by which he pretends to clear out something from his throat. Immediately gulping the cold water and almost slamming the glass on the table, he pretended to cough, fanning himself with his shirt as he felt an uncomfortable heat that surrounds him.

“Victor, then.” I pour myself a whiskey and watch her move. She’s efficient, graceful in a way that makes my kitchen feel lived-in for the first time in years. The scent of something fresh — basil, lemon, a woman's cooking — cuts through the sterile air of the penthouse. My body reacts before my brain can shut it down: a low pull, heat gathering low in my gut. I take a long sip and force my eyes to the city skyline instead. “Dinner’s almost ready if you’re hungry,” she offers. “Nothing fancy. Just pasta.”

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 The sky over the Alps didn't just darken; it bruised. The transition from the pristine white of the mountain peaks to the deep, unnatural purple of the descending fleet happened in the space of three ragged breaths. Maya stood in the knee-deep snow with the burner phone still pressed to her ear, listening to the dial tone that sounded like a funeral bell.

Not even the boyfriend. Especially not him. I stare at the hand wrapped around Sky’s wrist. The hand quickly lets go. Good. For some reason that makes my breathing easier. A little. Just a little. The notebook in front of me remains open. Pages filled. Dates. Times. Locations. Little details. All of them important. Sky likes sitting near windows. Sky always forgets his umbrella. Sky bites the inside of his cheek when stressed. Sky hates olives. Sky smiles when he’s embarrassed.

His tone is playful, nothing like what you will expect from a ruthless mafia Lord. I quickly change into the expensive black skirt and top from Chanel and turn around. Surprisingly, he was looking out the window, instead of peeping like I expected, he's truly obedient. “Are you done?” He asks after some time. I immediately blink, realizing that I have been staring at him without knowing it. “Mmm.” He turns around after I gave him my affirmation and immediately whistles. “Holy shit baby girl. You look like an angel just descended to the realm of mortals. You will look even better without those tears staining your face.”

His husky voice starts to weaken my sexual desire. I smile seductively and slowly touch his lower lip. "Just give me something to drink," I say, trailing my finger across his lips. "Sure," he replies, pulling me to an empty table. He signals to the waiter, who approaches us immediately. "Give us something hard,” he orders. Then he leans back on the couch and touches my hip. The waiter simply nodded and turned away. He quickly returned, placing a bottle of Martini in front of us. I looked around, searching for Kyla, but she was nowhere to be found. That witch left me again. I muttered to myself.

Summer POV My vision blurred. Somehow I landed on the ground. I think the sky was on fire. It was bright orange and dark blue. Where was I? “You went too far… Summer,” Clover said weakly. “I’m sorry.” My mouth was dry and my body weighed a truckload of bricks. “Burn it all, burn it to the ground,” the cold-hearted order sent a shiver down my spine. I recognised that voice. He towered over me. His eyes were bright and intense. I coughed and my body groaned. Ezra scooped me off the ground and held me to his chest.