Vanitas No Carte Novels & Stories

Vinca had painstakingly created this fragrance and it was for her personal use and refused to produce it for sale. The scent created from lavender, Bradford pear tree, and rosemary had taken Vinca months to perfect. She had refused to mass-produce the scent because she wanted something unique for herself. Damont was lost in the past when Ana swaggered in. She knew that look. Damont had it every time he thought about that bitch. How was it possible that whatever she did, he still thought about her? "Mmhh, what's on your mind honey?" Damont was sharply brought back to the present with that screech. He cringed and looked up.

The man in the red tie frowned and asked, “Who gave you this?” The guard paused before replying, “It came through the gate.” Camela's heart raced. The card looked familiar with its black edges and a golden fox in the middle—Vincent’s symbol. She reached for it quickly, trying to grab it before anyone could stop her. As soon as her fingers touched it, glowing words appeared across the gold fox: **Hold the nail. Don’t sign. Midnight.** Her chest felt tight—he was still alive. The man in the red tie tried to take the card from her, but she clenched her fist around it tightly.

And she was going to do it here, publicly. Damian had avoided her calls, he had locked her out of his penthouse. He had buried himself in that godforsaken mansion with her. Vanessa’s grip tightened around the clutch in her hand. Evelyn Carter, a girl who had no right to stand where Vanessa had fought tooth and nail to be. Vanessa could feel her chest tighten with anger, but she forced her expression calmly. Rage never won a crowd, seduction did, charm did. And Vanessa Hart was nothing if not a master of both.

I watched from the couch, confused, my mug of tea untouched and cold in my hand. The Woman who stepped in looked like someone who belonged on the cover of a luxury Magazine. Clipboard. Pearls. Glossy red Lips that curved with effortless command. “Good Afternoon,Mrs Johnson. I'm Vanessa, service manager of the Vogue gallery”. Mrs Johnson. The name still sounded foreign, like someone else's fairytale. Like something I had borrowed, not earned. Before I could react, She gave a polite nod and turned slightly towards the door.

“Lovely.” Vanessa took a step back and then slumped against the SUV. “Shit.” He was suddenly beside her, his hand on her shoulder. “Vanessa?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the piece of paper he held in his other hand. There had been a tiny part of her that had hoped it was a random coincidence, but now she knew it wasn’t. She hadn’t noticed when it had been wrapped around the brick, but in the faint light and unfolded, she recognized the one-sided design—the black and white lines that crawled up the sides of the ivory sheet and the tiny flowers in each corner.

, Van said, inhaling his cigarette and exhaling the smoke on my face. "Me and you can never be a team", i retorted back at him , "I don't team up with looses. Mark my words Van, Daniel is a very smart man, do you honestly think that he'll settle for less?, you tempered with his life's work, his company, now you're gonna watch him rise above where you last saw him. He's Mr. Vuitton the billionaire , how could you forget that Van? , how could you? , you don't have what it takes to go toe to toe with Daniel".

She smiled at him politely while he was staring at her like a creep. "I-I-I want to get a tattoo." she mumbled lowly while Cristina was also with her not leaving her alone for a second. He nodded at her slowly and pushed a thick book of outlets in front of her. "Select one." he stated curly in his Russian accent. Vanessa slowly trailed her gaze to the book and started flipping the pages. There was huge variety of tattoos, flowers, guitar, names, symbols, birth flowers, aesthetic tattoos or what not but Vanessa liked none of them and shook her head in denial at the man.

Chapter Seventy-Two: Beneath the Surface Vanessa tapped her long, polished nails on the wooden table of the quaint café she'd chosen for her meeting with Clara. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filtered through the air, mingling with the soft hum of murmurs around her. Clara was already running five minutes behind, but Vanessa wasn't bothered. It gave her time to strategize. This wasn’t just a casual catch-up—it was a carefully crafted move to uncover the truth about Noah and Stephanie.

“Make sure you bid on lot 7. It’s part of your surprise.” Vanessa's disgust is barely visible, but every small nuance of every one of her expressions is tattooed across my heart, and despite how pleasant her smile is, it is clear to me by the way she’s holding her back straight and her chin up that she doesn’t want him touching her. Adam, with his arrogant pride either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he squeezes her hip provocatively as he leans in even closer to hand Vanessa a paddle with the number 101. How could I let myself believe that she was in love with him? It's clear that she can barely stand him! She might be mad at me, but her standards haven't dropped that low.

Staring at the beautiful tulips, Vanessa didn't say anything for a while as she could only think of Richard because apart from him, there was no one who can send her flowers so openly! And a sigh escaped her lips, "was he for real?" Eyeing it, she massaged her temples as she didn't want to end up in tangles with the playboy Richard and stated calmly, "you can have them." As the words escaped her mouth, Caroline's jaw dropped in shock, "no, Miss Grant." "Then throw them away," Vanessa said firmly and grabbed the document, leaving Caroline stunned, and she squinted her eyes in bewilderment, but since there was nothing she could do, she left the cabin with those flowers.