Veronica Open The Door Please Novels & Stories

“Take me to my coronation, Lilith.” Veronica took Lilith’s hand and then she thought to herself, ‘this is it. The moment that I have waited for all my life will finally be given to me. Finally, the crown is mine.’ Lilith and Veronica then teleported and appeared in the huge entrance of the ball room. Medieval music then immediately played as the crowd made way for Veronica’s entrance accompanied by Lilith. Veronica walked with her head held high with a proud smile written onto her lips. Her amethyst eyes shined bright as she turned them to everyone who was in the room.

Veronica could feel her heart beating fast in her chest, like it was threatening to fall out of her chest. Luckily for her, she still had her phone in her hand, and so she hurriedly turned her phone's flashlight on, and quickly approached the door. She gently twisted the door handle, but to her surprise it didn't open. It seemed like it was locked and stuck. “Oh no. I'm stuck here.” She began to panic. She grabbed the handle one more time, and forcefully began to pull it, but it just wouldn't budge.

"He is falling apart outside. Has been since day two." I look at the door. At the solid wood and the lock I cannot reach. "Vivienne," I say. She looks at me. "Open the door," I say. She stares at me. "You know this is over," I say. "You said it yourself. You knew before you did it. Now you are sitting on the floor telling me everything which means some part of you is done." I hold her gaze. "Open the door. End this now before it gets worse than it already is."

Because if he was, that would mean Paul Marcone would have to get involved, and this would be the beginning of something truly ugly. After a few more hours of driving and one gas stop, Jimmy turned onto the familiar street that led to an iron gate. He punched in the code and drove down the long driveway. Veronica's head bobbled against the glass, waking her up. She quickly wiped her eyes as she stared out of the window. Everything was pitch black except for a faint light above the door of a two-story house. Jimmy parked the car and hopped out to open Veronica's door. "Where are we?" she asked, right as the front door opened.

This is my response. As the elevator door opened, he gave a nod. We have arrived on the 30th floor and are currently traveling down the corridor in search of room 17, which is where Trace Vergara is located. "I'm assuming this is his room?" Cyrus questioned me once, calmly, while pointing at the door of room 17. Trace Vergara's bulk spewed out of the door as I walked a few steps to ring the doorbell. When he opened the door, he could see that he was irritated and frustrated.

“Yes. Well, after a long time of suffering, I finally earned a better placement other than a doormat.” Silence falls over them. I can hear only a sniffle and the blowing of a nose. “Thank you, Elara,” Veronica says softly and then a sliver of light brightens the room as she pulls the door open, closing it behind her. I remain still, knowing that both of them have yet to leave. I could talk to her, step up and demand to bring her home, but Veronica’s words have me stuck. ‘You have Waylon.’ who the fuck is Waylon?

"Fuck yeah, princess. Welcome home." ------------ The light mood that had settled in the lounge for the last half an hour shifted the second the heavy oak door swung open without a knock. The sharp click of designer heels on the timber floor cut through the murmur of our conversation. Veronica stood in the doorway, her low-cut vested shirt and tight jeans looking entirely out of place among the worn leather and history of the room. Her icy blue eyes swept over us, landing on me with a flicker of pure venom before turning a calculated, saccharine smile toward the group.

Christiana didn’t answer. She already had a feeling. A soft knock followed. Once. Slow. Deliberate. The air in the room tightened instantly. Christiana walked toward the door. But this time— She didn’t open it immediately. Instead— She spoke. “Who is it?” Silence. Then— A voice. “Open the door.” John. Veronica’s breath caught. Christiana’s fingers tightened slightly on the handle. This— This wasn’t normal. Not at this time. Not like this.

That way, I’ll have more time with my girl. There’s a soft knock on the front door and Arrick perks up inside of me, his tail wagging when Veronica’s sweet scent hits us. I toss off my apron before I head to answer the door, taking a deep breath to try to calm down before I open the door for her. “Hey, you look lovely,” I greet her as I take in her outfit. She’s wearing a pair of tight black skinny jeans with a pale pink wrap around top that ties at her waist. A pair of black wedges complete the look and lend her another couple of inches. She’s almost eye to eye with me now since I’m barefoot.

Her mouth was dry. Minutes passed. Maybe more. Then it happened. The door creaked open. Just a little. Footsteps crossed the floor, slow and careful. She could feel him before she saw him. That same heavy presence, that silence that wasn’t really silent. He didn’t speak. He just stood there. Maya’s heart thundered against her ribs. She didn’t move. Didn’t ask him why. Didn’t ask how. She only whispered one thing. “Close the door behind you.” And he did.