The Casanova Novels & Stories

But I have to gather all of my rationality for my future. "I won't think it that way, know why? It's the most wonderful night I ever had. Most wonderful sex I ever had and the most wonderful orgasm I ever had in my life." He said as he reached my hand. "Stop kidding around Casanova. You have a camp, do you?” "I do, but I could cancel that for you." I don't know what he is doing. It's scaring me. Scaring me that I’ll fall in love. "Just go." I shooed him.

He wrote a list of things for her as well. Norman and Jacob were in Nathan's office early having coffee with Nathon. "We see it went well with your bride to be last night. Where did the two of you sneak off to last night?" Norman asked. "We came to my office here to show her my work," Nathan replied reading a new publication. "She fell for that," Jacob laughed. Nathan gave him a warning look. "Actually Cassie knows quite a bit about the Lady Vacscore broach from 1642. She even knew the map of where we were going next. I want to bring her along," Nathan told them both.

Caspien danced, letting the music take him wherever. He couldn't see Arkin anymore. Just a while ago, he was surrounded by several women, including a famous actress. Caspien didn't notice he was drifting away. He just kept drinking, grabbing whatever was on the trays that passed by him. He didn't even know what he was drinking. All he knew was that there was a sweet, burning sensation in his throat.

It is Caspian who has never once survived a New York winter without quietly suffering through every single day of it, and the future Underboss of the Sorano Syndicate has spent years using me as his convenient excuse. "France," I say. "Convicted rapist," Caspian says flatly. Laurent Faucher is gone before the word rapist finishes landing in the air between us. I note privately, with full sincerity, that this toxic, ratchet criminal deserves to be pressed firmly against the inside of a prison cell for a very long time. "Netherlands."

Did Curtis send him? “You are Cassandria Bristol-Romano. CEO of Bristol-Romano International. Your brother is Andros, and you moved here a little over a year ago.” Warning bells start going off in my head as I step back when Andros comes over and moves me away as he hugs the man. “Matteo, let me introduce you. Cass, this is my friend and boss, Matteo DeAngelis.” I blink, looking from my brother to this sex god. He is the mafia king, the man who is untouchable. Oh shit!

"A chaotic, expensive, legally married brand." "I don't want to be a brand." "You don't get to choose anymore." "I absolutely do." "No." She'd pointed at my phone. "The internet has chosen for you." That was the problem. The internet kept choosing things for me. A husband. A reputation. A personality. A motive. Apparently, I had gone from being Grace Ellinton, relatively unknown woman with questionable decision-making skills, to Grace Bramhall, mysterious billionaire wife who may or may not have married Manhattan's richest bachelor as part of an elaborate revenge scheme.

This is— “Mr. Sanchez.” The voice hits me before I turn around. Deep, with the barest hint of an accent. It fills the room like heavy, inescapable smoke. I turn and—fuck. Vincenzo Casano doesn’t just walk into the room. He claims it. Like the air itself rearranges to accommodate him. He’s tall—even taller than I expected—and built like someone who doesn’t just go to the gym but owns it. His suit is clearly bespoke, molding to broad shoulders and a powerful chest.

...Cassandra POV... In all of my five-foot-four splendor and glory, I tower a table of six men. One of these men is my new playboy, Christian Caine. The very same one that not but a few minutes ago left me frustrated and hanging, once again. So this, this will be my payback to him