The Gentlemen Series Romane & Geschichten

He leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers. “That’s what I like to hear.“ He trails a finger down the side of my neck, humming approvingly. “Now… let’s see just how cooperative you can be.“ He goes over and locks the door. “So what’s your name handsome?” “Oh, I do enjoy a sweet talker. You can call me whatever you want, princess.“ He taps my lip lightly with a finger, voice dripping in condescension,his closeness irritating me but I have to play along. “But why don't you start by calling me "Sir"?“

He made Valerie's husband a Made Man. My stomach twists. The man standing in front of us isn't just some ordinary criminal. He's part of the Mafia. "Take them upstairs," The words echo around me but they don't make much sense until someone grabs my arm, pulling me up and pushing me towards a flight of stairs. They strip my bodyguards of their weapons before forcing them down a separate hallway. One of them tries to protest, but the butt of a gun crashes against his stomach. He doubles over, and the others immediately raise their hands in surrender.

There was a weird feeling inside his chest, something he had never sensed before. "Sorry we're late." the two spoke as they marched toward their seats. Dennis shot them a look of disapproval, he was clearly not pleased with their lack of punctuation yet the girls did not seem to be bothered. They flashed a polite smile toward the guests and took their portion of the meal. "Archard, this is my daughter Clara." he opened his palm toward Clara who was seated right beside him. "And this one is my god daughter Giselle." he pointed toward the black haired woman. Both girls nodded their heads a sign of introductory.

They were all fine specimens of different nationalities, heights, hair colors, breast sizes, and personalities—or rather, character masks—catered to meet the spectrum of taste of the fourteen served gentlemen and a lady. The gentlemen whooped in delight, their eyes bulged and moved frenziedly in their sockets to consume the view, discussing their potential choices with one another in lewd manners while pointing at them now and then. Some of the girls who were more daring would flash the gentlemen their body parts of interest, or two of them would imitate excerpts of sexual acts—and those voluntary acts would be rewarded with raucous laughter and appreciative remarks.

We walk past a hallway, past offices with large windows, and soon we arrive at a set of mahogany double doors which Gypsy pushes open, revealing two desks at each end and another door in the middle. The lady, knocks once on the door and pushes it in, revealing a large office, a large desk, and Marciano leaning on it while he goes through something on his iPad. He's not wearing a jacket, and his sleeves are rolled all the way to his elbows. If it wasn’t for the scar running along his side, he could pass for any powerful CEO in the city. The kind people trusted. The kind people underestimated. He doesn’t lift his gaze when I enter and take a seat. But when he finally does, it’s to tell the lad

-I will fucking kill all of you someday. *** "That one," A well-dressed gentleman, in his mid fifty's pointed at the blue-eyed boy standing in the group. His buyer looked like a man one would meet in the rich district of London. Sauve and sophisticated. The man could even have a wife and children. However, his alter ego might have a lot of boys' skeletons in his closet.

I ask, but my smile drops on noticing the ‘unfamiliar’ voice does not belong to a tear-stained individual who would find creative ways to insult me and instead to two officially dressed gentlemen in sharp suits and sober expressions. “And who might you be.” “My name is Fredric Gilham; this is my associate, Benson Lee. We would like a moment of your time if you permit it.’ I turn to the group, and they nod. “All right, you may escort me as I finish my rounds; you have until the last flower is placed on a coffin.”

Roman The private study is designed for men to make deals that should never see the light of day. Gerald closes the door behind us. Locks it. Alexander Kingston sits in one of the wingback chairs and spreads out his legs like he owns everything. That predatory smile never leaves his face. I remain standing. Hands in my pockets to hide the fact they’re clenched into fists. “Gentlemen,” Gerald says, moving to the bar. “Can I get you anything?” “Scotch,” Kingston says. “Neat.”

Aaron then turned to Alessandro and said, “Hi, old man. I like your look although you look like a bad guy from the movies.” Aaron’s words had almost everyone in the house gasp audibly. Adrian spoke, “I am really sorry about it. He has been pampered a lot.” Alessandro gave a reassuring smile to Adrian, “That is all okay.” He then turned to Aaron, “Hi, young man. By the way, I am a bad guy. I am the Don.” “Oh really. Would you like to play a game with me?” Aaron bet while showing off the gun in his hand.

He raised his brows while I stared back, wondering what he was talking about. "Think what?" I repeated. "About men being gentlemen means they have an ulterior motive," he responded, and I dropped the glass cup on the table. "It's common among men! They read women like a book, studying them long enough to realise they love being pampered and cared for, and only a gentleman can pull that through, and so they have to act like someone they are not just so they can get what they want," my voice filled with spite and disgust despite trying to hide it.