The Wait Book Novelas e Histórias

"I said one year. I'm four years late. Are you still waiting?" I didn't answer. I rose on my toes and kissed his scar. He froze for a second. Then he wrapped his coat around me, pulling me in tight, his chin settling back on top of my head. "Yes," I said. "I'll always wait."

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In the end, Willa can go back to being the CEO of her company, and I'll be the CEO of my own company. I began to feel drowsy as the sunlight bathed me in warmth. I took a bank card out of my bag just as Delilah was about to close the door and said, "I have five million dollars here—no PIN is needed." Delilah was momentarily stunned as she looked at the closed door. She chuckled softly and whispered to herself, "You're actually really treating me like a sugar baby, huh?" … It was finally the day of the cocktail party, and the banquet hall was thick with the mingling scents of champagne and perfume.

Third Person POV At the Smith Group's charity banquet, Jason held Susan's hand and stood under the spotlight, basking in flattery. Suddenly, the screen went black, and a statement appeared on a red background. It was a divorce notice—Charlotte's request to formally sever all ties, issued through her lawyer. Next, a clear ultrasound scan was shown, accompanied by an audio recording. "Take her blood. She's tough, so she won't die from donating some blood." Jason's cold voice echoed through the speakers to every corner of the banquet hall.

I uttered, staring into blank space as I leaned my chin on my knuckles again. ~ Night had fallen, and i was still occupying myself with this particular business book which had caught my fancy for a while, now. I needed to get my mind off the current situation at home, just so I could wait for the next day when things would be resolved, and I would know what’s next. Apparently, waiting until tomorrow seemed like I had to wait for seventy-two hours, so it was only wise to occupy my mind with something interesting, and intriguing. “Do you mind lending me this book once you’re done with it?” I heard a child-like voice from nowhere, and I had to bring down the book from my face to see who was pro

No one in the audience heard what was said, but they saw it—the way his confident smile froze, then twisted into something unreadable. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the staffer and turned away. "Mr. Lopez, the wedding's about to start, but the bride still hasn't arrived. Should we check if something's wrong on her end?" His heartbeat pounded in his ears. That uneasy feeling from yesterday? It hadn't left. It had only gotten worse. He pulled out his phone, dialing the number he knew by heart. The call rang. And rang. And rang. Then—click. Call rejected.

“I told you it was an arrangement. I never marked her.” “You still sent me away.” “I asked you to wait. You chose to leave.” Claire rested her hand on his chest. “Don’t argue, Mattew. Georgia, you’ll have meals and a room in the pack house. There’s nothing wrong with accepting help.” “I have a home.” “Then why are you standing here alone with a suitcase?” Mattew asked. “You always said you wanted children. You’d be good with him.” Once, we had stood in an empty room in the pack house and talked about where we would put a crib. He had asked me to wait until he became Alpha before we started a family.

For four years of marriage, Cillian Newberry's catchphrase had always been "wait." Traveling could wait until he wrapped up his work. Celebrating our wedding anniversary could wait until his meeting was over. Visiting my parents back in my hometown could wait until he had the time. Today was my birthday. I made sure to ask him two weeks in advance if he would be home for dinner. After he promised me he would be there, I spent the entire afternoon preparing his favorite dishes and waited for him to come home. However, I waited from six o'clock until nine, but he never showed. Then, an entertainment news broadcast caught my attention. [The CEO of Newberry Corporation was spotted pickin

I stayed outside with terrible vending machine coffee and a magazine I did not read and the particular suspended quality of a waiting room at one in the morning — that specific nowhere-time where normal rules feel temporarily suspended and everything feels slightly more honest than usual. I thought about Rachel Voss in Denver, asleep in whatever life she had built. About Sandra Marsh, who had kept a photocopy in a drawer for two years because something told her she might need it. About Professor Whitfield cleaning his glasses before saying the words that had been sitting inside him for four years. About Kai in the coffee shop, placing his phone on the table like he was putting down something

"Mr. Johnson, who's Mr. Rivera asking you to check on? Maybe I know them." "Oh, right. You're all from Walden College. It's a woman whose name is Rowena Colson." He even helpfully flipped the printed photo over for me to see. The young woman in the image wore a pale layer of powder, but a dark birthmark clung to her skin like a monstrous claw, impossible to ignore. Ewan was looking for me! The thought lodged in my chest like a thorn, making me increasingly uneasy. So, when I was called into Ewan's office the following noon, I was still a little out of it. While I made his coffee, I could feel the chill in his gaze, threaded with heavy scrutiny.