Vanitas X Jeanne Novels & Stories

Her face lit up with a compliant smile, saying, "Okay, I’ll be there tomorrow." * Inside a secluded villa, Xavia received the news of Vanya's death. A chilling sensation ran through her body. She let out a long sigh that was a mix of relief and apprehension. With Vanya gone, there was one less person who knew about the switching of the amniotic fluid. It would be best if everyone who knew died, ensuring Xavia’s safety for the rest of her life.

Her eyes were red. She grabbed my hand, tears pooling as her voice broke. "Why did you leave me back then? Do you have any idea how long I searched for you? You disappeared without a word. What was I to you?" The ballroom fell into stunned silence. All eyes darted between us as whispers spread like wildfire. "How does he know Ms. Oxford? I thought she was aloof. She never approaches anyone." "The Vaughn family is powerful too. Was this some secret alliance?" "You don't know? Or are you pretending? Those two caused a huge stir back then."

By seeing her expression, Jack smirked while whispering in her ear. “The more you try to push me, the more you attract me towards you. Listen carefully. You belong to me Vanilla and I will do anything to make you MINE forever.” “I’m....I’m not yours” stuttered Val disturbed by their posture. “Yes. You are. My Vanilla.” said Jack smirking. He liked the effect he had on her and also the way she made him feel. Jack can see her beautiful eyes and smell her natural pure scent emitting from her body. He wanted to kiss her but don't want to scare her, so he controlled himself.

"If he's doing great, why would he move out by himself? I've been taking care of Yvette at Dewberry Manor for the past few days. Seeing how incapable she is, I think it's unfair for him." As Jeana said bad things about Yvette, the latter was explaining to Lillian that Jeana was Xavier's cousin. "Why do I feel like she's not his cousin at all?" "They're not blood-related." "That makes sense. She clearly has a thing for Mr. Lane." Since Lillian, an outsider, was able to tell that, it was clear how obvious Jeana's intentions were. Mark patted Jeana's shoulder and said, "Don't worry about it. Mr. Lane likes Mrs. Lane a lot. Besides, she's not incapable at all." He knew Yvette was secretly a well

Her gaze was completely blank, locked entirely on the frantic, hammering pulse at Jessica's throat. "Phase Four: Part One," Vane whispered. He stepped directly behind me. I could feel the cold, sterile draft of his presence. He rested his pale hand lightly on the back of my steel chair, leaning in close so his voice slithered directly into my ear. "The Death of Devotion," Vane murmured, watching the screen with clinical fascination. "Watch closely, Lolita. This is the precise moment your feral, beautiful empire begins to bleed. Let us see how much your hounds truly love you."

It was an action that only fed into the affectionate grunge to the pair and the room around them; a grime of all love-y and all sappy, all sexy and all rough. "Get off, I have a little more work I have to do," Genevieve's coy smirk only grew as she reached behind herself, pushing the lid of the laptop closed in the absence of her gaze, movements slow, eyes daring.

And the most cataclysmic thing was, I was not afraid of having witness Madeline's murder. Yes it left an impact on me, I still shivered whenever her dead lifeless eyes drifted in my vision but.. I was more scared of Marienne. As soon as the the police enquiry session had come to an end, I ran straight to my flat, brought out my laptop and tried to find as much as information I could manage about them. And what I found about them wasn't shocking but still, it chilled me to the core. Marienne Carlisle Victor. A French-American businessman, who is best known for his ruthless statistics and strategies in the corporate world. Devilishly handsome looking but taken from at the age of 19. Well known

Golden strands, blue eyes, oval face, sexy lips and a shape that shamed all the other girls around. Vanilla looked away from the girl. Instead she turned her gaze through the arena, trying to locate Darkness but he was no where to be seen, what she noticed was everyone holding a banner for Darkness had no image on it, it was almost like no one knew how he looked like at all. As she pondered on this, a man walked into the middle of the arena, Vanilla recognized him as Xavier. She noticed that she was seated at the front role with other important woman, including Greta.

My stomach tightened instinctively. Vanessa appeared in the archway, white wine glass in hand, blonde hair swept into an immaculate chignon, lips painted that blood-red shade she wore when she wanted to draw blood without lifting a finger. Her pale blue eyes—cold, calculating—swept over us slowly, lingering on our linked hands, on the way I was drowning in Dante’s hoodie like it was a claim staked in fabric, on the faint flush that still stained my cheeks and the barely concealed marks peeking above the collar line.

One afternoon, a woman arrived asking specifically for Jessica. She appeared to be in her early forties. Elegant. Reserved. The sort of person who carried herself carefully. As though she had learned long ago that the world wasn't always safe. Jessica immediately noticed her hands. They trembled slightly. Only slightly. Enough. The woman smiled politely. "Natalie." The name meant nothing. At first. Then Jessica froze. Brussels. The folder. The artist who disappeared. The woman who vanished from the art world almost ten years earlier.