The Devil's In The Details Book Novels & Stories

GINA I sat at what seemed to be the living room of the vs vsvmansion where the boss of the Bloody Fangs mafia group, Devon Fenrir lived. It also seems to be the group's headquarters. I thought we lived in affluence but this mansion dwarfed ours in more ways than one. A large and expansive living room with a high ceiling, golden chandeliers, large paintings with inscriptions of a language I don't understand on them, golden furnitures that glittered under the rays of sunlight coming through the windows.

*** DANTE'S POV When I saw Emily run out of her room, I had figured out something was wrong. Immediately, I excused myself to go check up on her, an action I would have imposed on one of my guards. On opening the door to where I was sure Emily was, I was surprised to see her in a sultry position and just then, I was glad I did not have to send any guard to check on her. Emily was seated on the floor, her legs widely apart. Her face looked innocent and more like she wanted someone to fulfill her sexual desires.

Olivia "If you think I'm going to sleep on the same bed with you, you're wrong!" I yelled after the devil left the room. Obviously he was the devil!What kind of a man will chose to marry a woman with no feeling or knowing her !Only a devil can and that room was his personal hell .Actually his entire house was hell in my opinion.. But if he thought I would share a room with him, he was wrong. Damn wrong! There wasn't even a damn sofa in that room, only the huge bed. The colors were black as expected, like his dark soul.

’ Inner Devil 2: ‘He’s the fantasy starter pack: filthy mouth, perfect abs, loyal heart, and the kind of possessiveness that makes you feel safe and scandalous all at once. Inner Devil 1: ‘His mouth isn’t even that filthy. It’s… poetic.’ Inner Devil 2: ‘Okay. Poetic filthy, then.’

Never have I been this jumpy. I drank the lukewarm latte again. The feed popped up and I clicked the first tab that opened. A cartoon caricature of the Devil appeared above the short article. I didn't find it very amusing as I tucked my hair behind my ears, then took a seat on my high stool and read. It contained mostly nonsense quotes and references but I was quick to highlight the points and I read with slow horror. I had just gotten why this book was so important and it wasn't good.

he said when I told him about my suspicion. I wanted to whine and express my frustration, but is there truly a point for that, when it has already happened? And it basically was the seed I said that we needed to plant for everyone to know our fake relationship. But gawd! To see and hear what everyone thought about that was a nightmare! “The Devil’s secretary has now become the Devil’s baby. Scroll to continue reading,” I moaned and covered both hands on my face as Freda continued laughing at me.

LAZZARO That girl. The way she stitched me, the way she looked at me while at it was fucking sexy. I had almost lost control, and it took everything within me to hold back. I never force my way with women. I might be a devil, but I wasn’t that monstrous.

Only hunger. The file listed his crimes in stark columns—trafficking, extortion, executions of rivals carried out with public cruelty. Girls taken from villages, families erased, children sold. Every account made her stomach churn, her skin crawl with the crawling heat of rage. For a moment, the anger was stronger than the ache in her chest. But rage wasn’t enough to smother fear. Because the further she read, the more she understood. There were risk assessments, probabilities calculated with cold precision. Numbers that reduced her life expectancy into percentages on a page. The chance of success: low. The chance of survival: lower.

She's an angel. I'm the Devil.

His neighborhood was one of the few places in the city where you could actually hear yourself think. He walked up the path to his front door, fishing his keys out of his pocket. That's when he noticed it. The doormat. It was slightly adjusted. Just a few inches to the left, barely noticeable. But Bernard was meticulous about everything in his life. Every object had its place. Everything had an order. And the doormat was not where it should be. Someone had been here. His hand moved instinctively to his side, pulling out his gun. He held it low, finger resting on the trigger guard, and unlocked the door as quietly as he could.