The Man In The Gray Flannel Suit Novel 소설 & 이야기

“The man. The one I told you about—the gray coat. He’s following me, I swear it.” “Elena, relax. You’ve been overworking yourself. Lagos is full of strange men. Maybe he just happens to walk the same routes.” Elena peeked through the bookstore’s glass front. The man hadn’t followed her inside, but she could still see his reflection in the glass: steady, unshaken, waiting. Her stomach sank. She wasn’t imagining it. She was being watched

Her I-imagine-ridiculous-impossible-shit-brain reminisced about the feeling of the fluffy mattress against her bare back, her pearly smooth legs flirting with the velvety silk— Everything was going well until this moment. The moment she was about to lose herself in the maze of grey. The glass of alcohol froze in midair near her lips as the low clinks of his footsteps echoed in the bar. The man was a piece of art as if he just ran away from a fashion show or popped out of Vogue's front page. There was something in the way he walked in through the entrance, along with a man dressed in a black suit.

Flinn was already sitting on the long gray sofa, speaking in low tones. And then she saw him. Someone stood at the far end of the room. A man in a tailored black suit and a hat tilted slightly forward, casting a shadow across his face. She squinted, trying to place him. She couldn’t see clearly, but there was something in the way he stood. The tilt of his head. The easy, confident set of his shoulders. He turned. The air shifted. Light spilled through the half-open window, brushing across his face. Her breath hitched.

When I was near the end of the carpet, I immediately blinked when I saw a man waiting for me there. The man was wearing a white suit. Is this Gray? I kept walking, and when I got close enough to him, I could see his hand but not his face. I took a look at it because he suddenly held it out in front of me. I don't know what got into me, but I accepted his hands, and when I did, I immediately felt the familiarity of his touch. This is what I was searching for when Gray held my hand, but I didn’t feel that from him.

I wouldn’t have pictured him owning a sleazy bar like this, well I mean it was a dive bar from outside but inside it wasn’t too bad. Was this guy some sort of mafia man? He was in a dark charcoal gray suit that was immaculately tailored to fit his lean physique. Glinda would have swooned if he had come into the shop. My boss had an eye for designer clothing and there was no doubt in my mind that this man had paid more than I made in a week for that suit. The small silver buttons gleamed in the lights and I couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel beneath my fingertips as I helped him unbutton his jacket before sliding it off of his broad shoulders.

Better for him, less humans equalled less noise. A deep inhale filled his chest with air, an effort to calm his nerves. The keys jingling in his pocket as he listed woods to let out stress with a early night hunt. "She is strong, but you know she won't survive what's coming!" A man said appearing venturing out of the next room, his voice deep followed by the crunch of the handful of popcorn he stuffed into his mouth. Grey paid no attention till he set eyes on the source of those words.. An older man in a black suit, his aura Full of pride and self praise. His smile present even as he munched on popcorn from the cup-full he held. All his attributes summed to a signature Grey recognized even b

Everything is made with grey, the wall, the ceiling, and even the large couch located at the center under a huge chandelier hanging on the ceiling. There’s a grey wooden desk near the couch and behind that was a man wearing a charcoal-colored suit, glancing at the ceiling-to-wall windows, making me only see his sexy back which perfectly showed by his perfectly fitted suit. His hair is blonde which fell perfectly down to his nape. “M-Mr. Furlord?”

I sat in the chair nearest the door because sitting nearest the door felt like the right instinct, and I waited, and the house waited around me, and nobody spoke. Then the front door opened. The man who walked in was tall, not as tall as Damien but close, with lighter colouring and a face that shared certain features with Damien's the way different editions of the same book share a cover. You could see the connection if you were looking for it. The jaw, the set of the eyes, the particular way he held himself like he had grown up being told he was important and then at some point stopped believing it. He was maybe thirty. He was wearing a jacket that had been expensive once and was not anymor

The man wore an unbuttoned black tuxedo suit, a white polo underneath, and a loosened necktie. "Took you long to go out," the guy said, opened his eyes, and stared straight ahead before turning his gaze to Anna. The first thing Anna noticed when the guy opened his eyes was his gray eyes. These were filled with the gleaming darkness of prowling clouds in a thunderstorm and deep and glossy nothingness like a forest pool shaded by ancient oaks. Her eyebrows arched slightly in confusion. What is he talking about? After staring at Anna for a moment, the guy noticed what she was holding. Anna panicked at this and hastily stuffed the box of smokes inside her handbag. Fuck! How unlucky can she be, s

I kept to myself, nursing one of my two cups of coffee because I needed to do something, anything, to disguise the shake in my hands. The man looked flawless, I thought with a sigh in my mind. Seven in the morning and he looked like he had a team of personal stylists. His charcoal grey suit was spotless, and his hair shone in intricate little curls. It was a sharp contrast to me, who wore a simple white button down shirt and a midi blue A-line skirt that had pockets. I found myself wishing my hands weren’t so full so I could fit my hands in my pockets just to look less harried, but I had to juggle my handbag, laptop bag and my coffees, while all he had on him was his briefcase. At first he s