The Man Of The House Novelas e Histórias

Perhaps I had been staring too intently. The moment the man opened his eyes and saw me, all traces of sleep vanished from his face. He scrambled off the couch, shock written all over his face. "M-Mr. Moore? What are you doing here?" I looked at him with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Shouldn't I be the one asking that? What are you doing in my house?" Something flickered in his eyes as he let out a startled sound. Yet, he made no attempt to answer me. Instead, he clumsily stepped into my slippers and headed straight for the door, his guilt plainly visible.

I turn and see an old man in a wheelchair near the fireplace, watching us. Julian lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair. “And I have told you a thousand times not to wait up for me, old man. I am not your wife.” “That is true,” the man says, a grin spreading across his face. “She had more hair and a lot less attitude.” He adjusts his position in the chair. “This house feels like a tomb at night.” “You would not have to feel that if you stayed at the group home like I asked you to,” Julian replies.

he said in a serious tone as if he was lecturing a five-year-old who doesn’t understand a candy cost money and trespassed on his property. I blinked and pointed at the knob with the key. “But the key fits, I opened the door, this is my house.” He looked at me appraisingly for a moment, The man was about twenty-five and looks like a rugby player, his stature towered me so well that I can hide in his strong muscly body comfortably, it didn’t compare to my fragile little one. “Look here, Miss.” “This is my house.” He kept on staying firm with his words. Playing tough, eh?

The guts. “You ask me who I am when you're the one invading my property?” Her door was wide open. “I'm sorry, I don't get it.” “This is my house, dammit. What the hell is going on?” “Ahh. You live here? You should have said so,” the man rubbed his bald head. From where she was standing, she could see that the man’s bald was shining brightly and if she looked closely, she might see herself on his head. Did he rub oil on it or what? Weird people everywhere.

the man asked curtly. “I’m Gevan Daxon,” Gevan replied. “This is my family’s house.” The man looked him up and down. “Sorry, sir. This house has been sold.” Gevan’s heart pounded hard. “What do you mean?” “The new owner,” the man continued flatly. “We’re just guards.” Gevan let out a short laugh, unable to believe it. “Impossible. This is the Daxon family home.” The man shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”

After thinking for a moment, the burly man immediately invited himself into Audrey's house. When he set foot, John was amazed by the house in front of him. The house is big and also very spacious, the owner of the house is also kind and friendly. As soon as his footsteps reached the terrace, Mrs. Hans, who was sitting leisurely in the garden of the house and saw her, immediately got up and stepped behind him. "Excuse me sir! I am Hans, the owner of this house. Do you need me?" asked Mrs. Hans with a slight smile on her lips while observing the clothes stuck to John's body which he thought was a descendant of royalty because his clothes were so neat and branded.

He's one of the chef that served me dessert on my first day in the mansion. As old man like him should be retired and having his wife take care of him. He'd be in his 50s I assumed. Judging from the few wrinkles and weak voice he exhibited. The man grabbed his clothes and walked out of the bathroom. Every worker in this house is Mr. Alvarez puppet. I bet most of them submit to pleasuring him against their will. I held my shoulder with my hand, just in case he has intentions of me feeling the man's space. "How's your shoulder?" He asked, showing no emotions on his face.

Because he is really doing a great job cleaning compared to Erick, who is a clean freak. Manuel never once complained about doing everything at home, as if it was one of his common daily activities. That’s why Irene sometimes thinks that it was unsuitable to see him doing household chores. Wearing just a t-shirt and short pants makes the tattoos on his arms and legs are so visible. If someone sees him at first glance, it will never come to mind that he can do the cooking and clean altogether. Irene was in a daze, contemplating when someone called on her phone. She answered it shortly after and someone spoke on the other line.

Another one roared. "Can someone call security?" The others suggested. "Don't worry, ladies. I'll handle this." They all looked satisfied when a man walked towards Marionne. He looked like in his mid-40s, yet still, look formidable and elegant. "I know you, Marionne, right?" Marianne felt like he was showered with ice-cold water. The man in front of him was the father of Ava. "Uhm—yes—yes, sir." He struggled to answer.

THE MAN IN YELLOW