Titania Davenport Novels & Stories

Gabby says. “My mate might have my balls for this,” Davis sighs. “I’m going to tell her. She can have Duke over and you can sit with him. She can distract the Duchesses.” “You hate me now, don’t you,” Gabby hasn’t moved or stopped staring at the ceiling. “How has your scent not shifted?” Davis asks. “Titan marked me, you all assumed the new scent was his,” Gabby tells him. “It has been really easy to hide. I didn’t count on Titan wanting to get pregnant so quick.”

Dared almost flinched at the sound before he groaned and checked his caller ID Tania? Dared's forehead creased in confusion. Tania never called at this time, only if it was a very serious matter that needed attention. Dared sighed as he picked up the call after the third ring "Tania, what's going on?" He asked, confused. "Turn on your Tv now," the woman said as her eyes stayed glued to her Tv. She didn't know whether to be happy or sad at the new revelation she had just discovered. Should she be happy that she had finally gotten her revenge? Or should she be sad that her best friend had lost the love of his life?

Truly, what kind of foolish woman would treat a man like him so carelessly? From Tania’s perspective, any woman would be fortunate to stand beside Daven Callister—young, talented, and already a successful businessman. Yes, Vanessa Blake’s beauty was undeniable, but still… the problems between them were far beyond what anyone could have imagined. “Is there… something you want to ask?” Daven guessed, because ever since he walked into her office, she had seemed restless, as though holding back words. He already had a good idea of what might be on her mind—the way she kept watching him gave it away.

It's dangerous. Titania's having a mental breakdown, and she knows it. She's refusing to accept that the world she's built ever since she left California with her uncle isn't as real and safe as she thinks. Isn't as ideal as she'd made it out to be. My goal is to make her realize the obvious. I'm going to make her come to terms with the truth, however hard it is for her to accept it.

At the private booth in the back, a woman was waiting—sleek, stern, guarded. “Tasha,” Vivian greeted. “I should shoot you on sight.” “You’d be doing everyone a favor.” Tasha narrowed her eyes. “You have five minutes.” Vivian slid into the booth and dropped the flash drive on the table. “That’s everything you need to bring the old man down.” “Mr. Davenport?”

“Myself? You’ve already destroyed who I really am, Davian. Here, I’m nothing but your prisoner.” Davian chuckled, a low sound that echoed in Dewangga’s chest. He bent down, whispering right into his ear. “A prisoner? No, darling. You’re a gem I’ve just cleaned from the mud. Vivian never appreciated you. She only saw you as an accessory to strengthen her image as the perfect career woman. But I… I see the darkness you hide. I see your desire to surrender.”

A brief silence settled between them. “And Cleopatra?” Calvin asked at last. Davin met his gaze directly. “She is not employed there.” Calvin’s fingers tightened slightly on the armrest. “Be specific.” “She has no employment record under Titan Dominion Fitness Group. Not in headquarters. Not in any branch. Not under any subsidiary company.” Calvin’s voice lowered. “And Verenna?” Davin’s expression turned firm. “She has never worked in Verenna. No residency registration. No property lease. No financial trail. No travel history.”

“I’m Adelina and I’m calling from KlasyRhodes fashion home, Luanda. We need you to create some designs ma. We want to put up a fashion show and we need new unusual foreign designs.” Could she just stop with the madam thing, Chava had cringed one of her fists already; she didn’t like to be addressed with ‘ma’. Luanda? That was an African country and the caller didn’t sound like a regular client. Where did she get her contact from? “OK, my name is Chava or you can call me Miss Ava.” She smiled. “OK mad--sorry, Miss Ava. How much is your rate?” “When is the deadline? And how many designs?”

It was calm and peaceful but almost like a whisper like there was something stuck in the speaker's throat making their voice come out as if, along with white noise. The both of them turned around to the speaker, it was none other than Jelena Savage herself! The Coalition Chieftess of the Als race!

An old man on the vintage chair with a newspaper in hand replied. A woman wearing a huge smile on her face, probably older than Westley stood up. “Audene, I thought you’re busy.” The thick southern accent in her tongue was palpable. She bounced her eyes from me, then back to Westley. “Hello, I’m Clyve.” I held out my hand. “You must be new here, darlin’. I’m Xena.” She shook my hand, then looked at Westley who looked at her with disinterest. It was her way of telling her to shut up because I was not her type.