The Duke Who Didn't Novels & Stories

She wasn’t supposed to be anyone’s pawn. The Duke’s voice cut through the tension. “Let her go, Isabella,” he growled, his tone laced with menace. He stood tall, despite the blood dripping from his lip, his posture exuding authority. Isabella didn’t even flinch. “You’ve lost, Duke,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Your empire is crumbling, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” Victoria’s mind raced. This is it. The Duke’s empire was on the brink of destruction, and now, it seemed like Isabella was the one to bring it all crashing down.

“And, this bit might be gossip but lady Mary said she saw servants of the Fulher mansion wheeling out carts of broken ceramic and I’ve heard that the duke has a violent temper.” “Thank you, Anne.” “Always a pleasure, my king.” Anne quickly exited his office. Rhode places both hands under his chin. He was unsure of what the duke was up to but as long as it involved him, it was not good news. As long as Rhode didn’t have any physical evidence, he could not try the duke. Soon enought though, he was surely to make a mistake. Rhode looked out the window, the sun was finally setting and he suddenly missed the vanilla and honey scent of Megan.

The Duke was a big deal in Italy, forty-eight years old but looking not a day over thirty-nine, thanks to some serious self-care. Duke Wilson had a wife who hailed from one of Italy's most distinguished families, and they had a teenage son who was turning nineteen. Helma took a peek at the young master's photo on her phone—he was drop-dead gorgeous. In Italy, a Duke's title was a legacy passed down through generations, and this guy was no exception to the rule of prestige. She scrolled through the group chat, where Morgan and Heartless Rogue were still at each other's throats. Tisha: [Emerald Crab, why are you digging into the Duke's info? You facing any trouble over there?]

His ostentatious powdered wig and his milky-white face were both exceptionally ugly. She didnt recognize the duke from some photograph in a history book. She knew far too much about him. She knew everything. Like how the royal ladies-in-waiting swapped bawdy jokes about the sad size of the dukes scepter. About how hed lost that eye (hunting accident, on a trip hed joined to appease the king). And about how right now, the duke was going to send in the girls whom hed preselected as suitable marriage material for the twelve-year-old king waiting inside.

"I will, Mr. Duke, don't worry." Noah assured Amos. "Go back and clean up the estate properly, I still have to find that old bastard, he can't get away." Amos said, getting into the back seat of the sedan. When the sedan had completely disappeared from view, I looked up at Noah . "Is this always the case with Mr. Duke and Duke Taz?" I asked. "Yes, normally, dukes are blood relatives of the king, but Taz is an exception, there is no relationship between him and the king, but his title was given by the last king, the grandfather of Duke Amos."

She said, looking up at him in painful disbelief. Duke leaned over the doorframe and crossed his hands on his chest. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of yourself. Scram, Minsi. I do not ever wish to see you again.” Duke rasped. Minsi spared him a last glance before picking herself up and starting to walk out of the room with a shattered heart and only searing pain escorting her out.

Especially not after reading everything that had turned up in the internet search she’d done the night before as soon as she’d got home. Cedric Blackwood, the Seventh Duke of Springbrook, appeared to be a notorious playboy, and had the reputation to prove it. Which, honestly, did not surprise her. That he was also the head of a worldwide, high-risk venture-capital firm did. She knew next to nothing about playboys, but had always assumed that they cared more about parties than they did about business, though it seemed that the Duke of Springbrook was an exception. Then again, given his behaviour the night before and what she knew about him now, that shouldn’t be a surprise either. He was clea

Duke muttered, looking slightly uncomfortable. Ali burst into laughter while Lara remained confused. “Why not? It’s in the past! And you’ve moved on already.” Duke sighed. “Ali—” Ali ignored him, turning to Lara with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Did you know that our dear Duke was hopelessly in love with someone back in the day? And that someone was also adorably dense, so much so that she didn’t even realize she broke his heart?” Lara’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Who? When?”

The duke’s new wife was infamous for her blunt and belittling attitude towards her inferiors. “Careful Carlotta, you must not to look down on my people.” Duke Landon Chandler was noble enough to remind her unstoppable tongue. As a matter of fact, he lived most his days reminding her but to no avail. Perhaps, people’s attitude doesn’t change so easily. “Tell me about it,” he said eyeing the housekeeper. Duke Landon had been feeling ill lately, and news like this doesn’t help much. Instead, it worsen it.

“He is cursed? Oh my God! If the Jamaerah knew that, they would kill him. I think he deserves it… He is a cruel and merciless person. Full of rubbish. Full of stupidity. Arrogance. It’s better if we get out of here. Do you want to get out of here? This is such a stupid question. I will crack these doors open, tell me your story in the meantime. Start the show! The world is full of untold stories.” The man I talked to for a whole day, the man I laughed with and told stories, the man who used his hands to unlock both our cells and lead me outside, the man who knew the hidden passages of the Duke’s mansion, that man… had a mask hiding his face in the shape of a moth. Like the rumour I heard wee