Valentine Cat Book Novels & Stories

The tension between Eliseo and Althea, who hadn’t seen each other in years, filled the room with uncomfortable silence. Valentine soon entered from the kitchen, limping slightly as she favored the leg she had injured earlier that afternoon when she fell into the flower bed. Plastering on a warm, artificial smile, she greeted Althea. "Althea, you’re back! Please, have a seat. I just asked the housekeeper to prepare dinner—fried fish, your favorite!" In front of Eliseo, Valentine continued playing the role of the devoted, loving stepmother. Sadly, no amount of performance could hide what she truly was—a malicious schemer beneath the surface.

Swept off my feet. Knocked to my knees by this woman who was turning my life into one of the very books she was quoting, the books that were my passion, my work... "My heart is, and always will be, yours." Her handss dropped to her sides, the paper hanging from her fingers. The paper that I would take from her and frame, to show all of our children, grandchildren, and their children after. "Sense and Sensibility!" Jonathon shouted out, obviously pleased to have figured one out first.

I pout, my eyes looking at him. “Don’t pout, Kitten. It isn’t a good look.” His hand swings. I moan at the feel of the leather across my butt cheek. “Come cuddle and talk.” He picks me up, carrying me to the bed. Lying here in his arms, we are relaxing. “So, Kitten, what other fetishes do you have?” Looking at him, I am unsure how to answer but decide I should be honest, or as honest as I can be.

He thought that it was a very time-wasting thing to do, but Stella kept convincing him that it was not. She said, "Honey, do you remember who Mrs. Valle is? She's a big cat lover, right? So, her husband built a cat mansion for her in their backyard. It looked magnificent." She even showed him the photos as she spoke. "Look, this mansion is much more complicated than our flower shelf. Do you have any idea why her husband is so good?

She bites her lower lip— white teeth sinking into red flesh— then turns, smiling at the bartender. "Whisky please. Rocks." Her gaze returns to me, and she raises her eyebrows. "Make that two," I say, not leaving her gaze. A minute later he places the drinks in front of us, her hand immediately reaching out to bring it to her lips. "Katherine," she says after taking a slow sip, "but my friends call me Kat." "Adam, but everyone calls me Emilio." "I think I'll stick with Adam," she replies haughtily, daring me to tell her otherwise. I lean in closer to her, trailing her body with my eyes again. I can't stop looking at her legs. She notices, and again raises an eyebrow.

"Just that I feel it's too sudden." "Do you not feel nothing for me? Anything at all?" I couldn't respond because I had nothing to say. The truth was that I had already started redeveloping feelings for him, but I was being cautious because I couldn't tell if really it was love or if I was just infatuated with his peaceful presence. "If I asked you to be my Val, would you agree?" My eyes almost popped out of its socket. "Josh, Valentine is still a long way." "I know, that's why I'm asking now."

"Enough. He's the captain. Just let it go and head home—I'll see you after I check in." He patted her arm, but Mandy wasn't about to let go. "Why don't you come over? I made cream soup to thank you for saving Momo." Momo, her fluffy Ragdoll cat. Wade hesitated, then nodded and tried calling me. But my phone was dead. Completely out. Annoyance flickered across his face. "Fine, playing games again. If you're not going to answer, then don't ever pick up," he muttered.

"When you do something wrong, you pay for it. Sign this, and we can still be husband and wife." Someone grabbed my hand, pressed my thumb into the ink pad, and forced it down at the end of the contract. Joy flashed in Vivian's eyes. Matteo took the agreement and left with her. When the door closed, my heart finally died. I struggled to my feet, closed my fist around the broken ruby bracelet, and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years. When the line connected, the other side was silent. Salvatore Valenti, the don of the Valenti family, never needed to raise his voice to stop Chicago’s night in its tracks.

Valerie began to open pages of the big book and continued as she searched for any solution to this mystery but, it seemed none was coming forth. "This is useless! There is no solution in this big book to this" Valerie exclaimed as she flipped each pages back and forth. She was about closing it in frustration, when her eyes was drawn to something. It was a picture of two werewolves, a male and a female whose hands were bound together by a thread. Valerie snapped her fingers in the air and read out loud to the hearing of everyone.

The look on his face when he takes a sip of what he expects to be a rich, velvety red, only to find it’s basically grape-flavored water, is priceless. He takes it all in infuriatingly good stride, barely acknowledging my antics. Until, on the second day, I push just a little too far. I am dusting a bookshelf. Aggressively. I'm practically trying to remove the varnish with my feather duster. Valentine watches from the doorway, his eyes narrowed, that subtle scent of cinnamon growing stronger, a sign of his growing annoyance. “You are not actually dusting, are you?” “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I give a particularly vigorous swipe at a row of books.