The Devil In A Suit Novels & Stories

He wouldn't dare tell Devon. Derrick ignored me as he continued blabbing on. " She hated you! Wanted to kill you! Do you what she always called you, a devil! You were the devil, Devon! " “That’s a lie!” Devon snapped. “Oh?” Derrick taunted. “Because I remember holding her while she cried about how much she hated you. Devil Devon! " “That is not true!” I shouted, my voice breaking. Derrick laughed. “Isn’t it? Then why did you try to forget your sorrows by sucking my dick?! "

I was too caught up in my thoughts of what might have happened to my sister when I heard a voice, deep and baritone, almost like they had a speaker buried in their throat. "Who the fuck are you?" The frame dropped to the floor and shattered. I turned around only to crash into a firm shirt. I stumbled backwards, clenching the edge of the desk behind me. The wall was, in fact, a man well over six feet tall with broad shoulders, wearing a dark suit and crisp white shirt underneath. I had to crane my neck and throw my head back to see who it was. And when I did, my heart dropped. It was the Devil himself, in a suit. His hair fell to the side of his head in a stylish sweep, the color as dark as h

“Yes, boss. Someone’s making offers behind your back.” Luca, standing to my right, crosses his arms. “A rival syndicate wouldn’t move this fast unless they had inside help.” The table goes silent. Every man knows what that means. There’s a traitor here—inside the Moretti walls. I let the silence stretch until it hurts. Until they start sweating. Then, quietly, I say, “Find them. Anyone who’s switched sides dies. No negotiations.” A few nods. Uneasy ones. I continue, voice firm, steady.

"I don't deserve you being this understanding." "Maybe not." I managed something close to a smile, small and tired. "But I'm done spending my life waiting for the world to hand me what I deserve. I'd rather choose what I want instead." "And what do you want?" I looked at him for a long moment, this man who'd been called the Devil by everyone who thought they knew him, who was, underneath all of it, just as broken and just as desperate to fix what had been broken as I was.

“So you came to me.” “Yes.” “And why would I help you?” “Because everyone says there’s only one man my father has never been able to control.” She held his gaze. “They call him the Devil.” The faintest smile appeared on Damien’s face. “I’ve never liked that nickname.” “But you never denied it.” “No.” He stood and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the rain-soaked estate. His hands rested casually in his pockets. “You know what people also say about me?” “They say you never lose.”

Jacobs. I walked through the tunnel of white wedding arches decorated with white and red roses, my hands keep on shaking that I almost drop the bouquet of flowers. On the side of the venue were Vincent’s men wearing black suits. There were no visitors that I personally know, they were all just Vincent’s men and so I knew I couldn’t do anything to escape. At the end of the long aisle filled with scattered rose petals was the devil. He was wearing a well-pressed white suit with a black bowtie that went perfectly with his curly black hair which made him appear like a prince. A devil prince perhaps. He was staring at me with his usual intimidating gaze that could melt someone on the spot. Tears

’ ME: ‘Just go on dreaming because it won’t happen. My phone buzzes again. The Devil: ‘My dreams usually come true.’ The audacity of this man. ME: ‘I will be the one to break that trend.’ The Devil: ‘Trust me when I say that I always get what I want, Evelyn.’ Who the hell does he think he is? God?????? ME: ‘Don’t tell me you’re falling in love with me Vincent Beckett.’ The Devil: ‘I think you’re the one who’s falling in love with me. :)’

"What do you mean?" "I just mean, you're a formidable businesswoman. I imagine there's quite a lot occupying your mind," he replied. A soft chuckle escaped me. His sense of humor, both humble and perceptive, intrigued me. "So, you're a lover of art?" I asked, turning back to the mesmerizing painting before us. "I'm obsessed," he stated simply. A faint, knowing smile played on my lips. "What's your favorite artwork?." "Devil in a Silhouette by Stéi Fontaine," he said without hesitation.

And in walks the devil in a tailored suit. I know it's him. I don't know know—it's not like Harper gave me a cheat sheet—but the moment I see him, I just know. It's the way the room shifts. The air changes. My instincts rear back like an animal sensing a predator. Every nerve in my body goes that's him. Tall. Broad. Dark hair. Jaw like he chews granite for breakfast. Wearing a navy suit that probably cost the same as a semester at Columbia. He carries laptop under one arm and the kind of bone-deep disdain that can't be faked.

No Way! But you know what they say about the devil being the most deceptive creature that ever liveth? The devil knows how to make a person nurture a thought and then bloom it. The devil already knew that Ace’s colleagues had succeeded in planting a thought in his mind so the best thing that could be done by the devil was to magnify that thought.