The Cellar Natasha Preston Novels & Stories

*I was standing outside Alessandro’s penthouse, my hand shaking as I pressed the buzzer. *My other hand is resting protectively over my still-flat stomach.* *Inside me, a tiny life was growing.* *Alessandro’s child.* *Our child.* *I’d been planning this moment for weeks. How to tell him. What to say. Whether he’d be happy or terrified.* *The door opened, but it wasn’t Alessandro.* *It was Isabella.* *Alive.* *Beautiful.* *Very much not dead.* *“Well, well,” she said, her voice like poisoned honey. “If it isn’t the little spy.”*

She watched me silently clear away the cold food and said indifferently, "I already told you I wasn't coming home. What's with that expression?" I stayed quiet. She used to say she did not want anything fancy for the holidays, just a homemade meal from me. Nonetheless, that was a long time ago. People would change, and clearly, she had forgotten everything she once said. As the heiress of the Bates family, Natasha had men constantly pursuing her even after our marriage. She had always ruthlessly rejected them all. Yet, Stanley was different. He was her childhood friend and male best friend, a few years younger than her, with youthful energy that effortlessly drew her attention.

“Tell him thanks when you speak with Dominic, then.” Nate tipped his head and smiled. “Aye. I’ll do that. Now, there should be food in the underground cellar, but we’ll have to go into town to get some fresh meat. Let me get a few things first, and we can do that.” Before heading out to gather wood and water, Nate showed me where the small cellar was located. It was a small trap door situated close to the kitchen side of the cottage. Upon descending the small and tight stairs, I discovered a treasure trove of fresh fruits, vegetables, and herbs, all stored alongside canned goods. The cold was kept inside the cellar by its stone walls, making it a natural refrigerator. I took the opportunity

And she hated him for it. She carefully lifted Aaron’s arm and slipped out of bed. He stirred slightly but did not wake up. Natasha went into the bathroom, showered and dressed before leaving the bedroom. She had made a decision during the night. If she eventually went to Eden, she would not go blindly. She would know exactly what she was looking for before she stepped inside. Two hours later, Natasha entered Elias’s laboratory. Elias looked up from his computer. “You’re early.” “You’re always here.”

The Storm Beneath The Surface The morning light spilled through the sheer curtains of Natasha’s room, but it brought no warmth, no comfort. She hadn't slept a wink. The anonymous text, the files, the conversation with Nana, all of it churned inside her like a hurricane. Today, she would get answers. Today, she would confront Lucas Salvador. Dressed in simple jeans and a sweater, Natasha stormed downstairs, the heels of her boots clicking sharply on the marble floor. Lucas was seated at the breakfast table, sipping coffee like he hadn't orchestrated half the hell she was now drowning in.

The glare she shot me would have intimidated weaker men. Unfortunately for her…I wasn’t one of them. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re enjoying this.” “Possibly.” She exhaled sharply and muttered something under her breath that I intentionally pretended not to hear. Mrs. Berlin smiled brightly before stepping aside from the door. “Please come in, Mr. Laurent.” I adjusted the sleeve of my watch before following her toward the entrance. Behind me, I heard Natasha groan dramatically. “This is a disaster.” I glanced back briefly. She stood there in oversized sleepwear, barefoot against the marble driveway, hair completely unbrushed, expression somewhere between irritation and pure regret.

It’s too quiet, like a crypt filled with the ghosts of the men I’ll never see again. Sometimes I wonder who won’t come back. When did I become this melodramatic? I don’t get creeped out by being alone. Still, someone must be here. I search downstairs until I find Natasha sitting in the kitchen, chatting with the chef. No food is being prepared yet; it’s too early for dinner. And I wave off the chef’s kind offer to make me something light to eat. “Where is everyone?” I ask. “They’re out on business—a construction site in Lower Manhattan, off Canal Street,” replies Natasha. “They’ll be back soon.”

Pavel said. Natasha exhaled and signalled to Naomi that they should start following him. Fighting at this point is useless. This is Pavel's territory and they are more like slaves over here. The only thing that hurts and scared her the most is that her kids may end up growing in this large prison. When they were almost at the gate of a particular building, for there are many buildings in that large space, Natasha quickly clicked on Dmitry's name, she was about to start typing a message that she will send to him when Pavel swiftly snatch the phone from her hand.

"Take it all off, baby; show us your pretty puppies... and your sweet pussy." Natasha had never heard a man say such things to her. It turned her on, to have older men like these two, roughly as old as her college teachers, lusting after her like horny young jocks. She grabbed the hem of her tiny t-shirt and pulled it slowly over her head. The throaty groans of the two men sent shivers through her. It gave her the courage to do what she did next. Reaching back, she unclasped her micro bra and let it slide off her as she moved to the music. For the first time in her life, Natasha Gillian Wallis was topless outside the privacy of her own home. She stood on the table before two strangers, men s

Khalid’s voice carried down the hall, speaking to someone. “…yes, come up. We can go over the documents here. Evelyn’s home but she won’t mind.” My heart sank. Moments later, Natasha walked into the living room like she belonged there, carrying a sleek leather portfolio. She was dressed in a sharp black dress, looking every bit the powerful executive. Her eyes flicked toward me as I stepped out of the bedroom. “Evelyn,” she said with that polished smile. “I hope I’m not intruding. This is urgent.”