Versace On The Floor Artinya Novels & Stories

Willow Grant has spent nearly a decade in Manhattan, building a life of logic, skyscrapers, and safety. She traded the wild air of Redwood Bay for the steady pulse of the city and found a man who offers her a quiet, uncomplicated love. She’s no longer the girl who wept on a cold floor; she is older, watchful, and finally in control. But when a family engagement demands her return to the territory, she discovers that some ghosts don't stay buried—they grow teeth. Seven years ago, he let her run. Now, he’s done waiting. Roman Vale is no longer the boy she once idolized. He is the Alpha of the Vale Clan, a lethal tactician who rules the northern territories with a heart of flint and a gaze of stormy gray. He has spent years in the shadows, expanding his empire and purging anyone who dared touch what belonged to him. He has stayed silent. He has stayed celibate. But he has never let go. From the moment Willow steps back onto his soil, the hunt is on. Roman doesn't want a civil conversation or a polite reunion. He wants the woman who was promised to him in the moonlight. He wants to tear down the walls she built in the city and remind her that no matter whose hand she holds, her wolf only howls for one man. As a dangerous conspiracy threatens the Grant lineage, Willow is forced into Roman’s orbit for protection. But in the corridors of the Vale Compound, the greatest threat isn't the enemies at the gate—it’s the suffocating, magnetic heat of the man who calls her Rosebud while looking at her like prey. The rose has finally bloomed. And this time, the Alpha is playing for keeps.

Melissa Jones, the so-called 'fake' heiress, lost her memory trying to save me. Her memory was stuck at the time she was 18, back when our lives had not yet been set right. Everyone told me to be the bigger person. In the new family portrait, I was the only one missing. My biological mother tried to comfort me, "Shirley, be reasonable. It's just a photo. We will make it up to you later." I applied for the vice president position year after year, only to be rejected five times in a row. Then, when Melissa said she wanted to learn the business, my brother, Maverick Jones, approved it immediately. Afterward, he turned to me and said, "You should give way to Melissa. You're the reason she lost her memory. I'm helping you make up for it." When I went into labor and needed my husband, Charles Smith, to sign the consent for a C-section, he was one floor above me, accompanying Melissa to a follow-up appointment. I called him seven times. He declined every call. In the end, my seven-month-old baby suffocated. Even in a wheelchair, I went to demand an explanation. However, outside the hospital room, I heard Melissa crying. "Back then, you all agreed I should pretend to have amnesia. I'll never randomly decline calls for Charles again. I just want to stay by your side for three more months." There was a moment of silence. Then, Charles and the others agreed. At that moment, I was not angry. I just felt something inside me turn completely empty. I turned around and accepted my adoptive parents' request to return to Nebula City. This time, I would give these people what they wanted.

The dagger goes in before she understands her consort is the one holding it. ——— My consort is the one holding the blade. I fall into the Forbidden Zone with his voice in my ear — *You were never going to be the queen this kingdom needed, Rose is everything you are not* — and every stroke downward the Hollow drinks my color, my voice, my breath. As I sink through the dark I understand, in a rising tide of memory I can no longer outrun, what I refused to see: my cousin Rose has been his lover for three years. My uncle Rick has been my father's killer for seven months. I hit the Hollow's floor among the skeletons of seven women who came before me. I should die there. A black pearl pulses in the dark and asks me one question. I say yes. What rises from the Forbidden Zone is not the princess they pushed. My scales burn blood-red shot through with molten gold and piercing teal, edged in obsidian. My voice shatters coral when I choose. I can drain a merfolk's power until their scales grey to driftwood, and I can shift any being between human and merfolk form. But the pearl hungers. Black veins creep across my chest with every life I take. And the throne I want back? It was never the prize. It was the trap. ——— Will Irene become the villainess her kingdom fears? Or will she remember the girl they buried long enough to choose what kind of queen to be? And the older sister who has been waiting two hundred years to use her — what happens when Irene decides the family she was born into is not the one worth dying for?

The Hot Series (Book 1) Story Of a Mysterious Professor, a girl full of life and Mr. Stranger. He gave me a grin as they all student left, I averted my eyes to show him my fake anger. He strolled to the door and shut it close. "Sir, what are you doing?" I asked dramatically as he locked the door. He turned around, his lips drawn up into a naughty smile. "I need to spend some private time with my student." He's sauntering to me, gazing at me, having desires in his bewitching black eyes. My heart started racing, only with the thoughts of what he'll do to me. I'm excited to spend some time with my Hottie Professor in the classroom. This is making me excited. I'm looking at him in anticipation. "But your favourite student is still angry with you." I turned my face on the other side as he reached in front of me. "Then her professor has his own to pacify his favourite student." He cooed, holding my chin with his thumb and finger. As he turned my face to him, I pouted angrily. "Oh, really? So what are those ways ?" I sassed, removing his hand from my chin. As he abruptly grasped my bare waist, I shivered because of his touch. He lifted me from the floor and made me sit on the desk. We gazed into each other eyes passionately in utter silence, the only sound we could hear is our heartbeats. He started coming close to my lips, gazing into my eyes fondly. His warm breath caressing my face.

"Did you kill him?" The detective asked again."I've already answered you like a thousand times... Yes, he was a monster. Yes, he beat me up a lot but I didn't do it. I didn't kill Jude!" Amanda replied."I'm sorry. I know what it's like to be a victim of abuse and all that, but you need to understand that murder is a serious case too. You'll have to forgive us for asking you continually it's just that you were the closest to him we've got here.""I wasn't. There was someone else he was seeing that knew a lot about him than I ever did," Amanda replied.*******The night was growing colder and the rains seemed to have agitated in full force. Amanda sat on one of the soft leather chairs that squeaked with her every move in the living room with tears in her eyes as she watched the rains drop on the floor forming small pools and waited for Jude to come back. She was worried sick about his whereabouts even though all his presence caused her were pain and more tears. The protruding bump on her stomach, made it quite difficult to move around at ease so she was stuck with calling his busied line while she watched the clock tick its way into the midnight mark.*****A heart rending story told differently. Stronger than Pain captures a dysfunctional Nigerian home where a callous man, beats his wife on a daily basis. Time flies and now he is dead. All the characters have a reason to kill him, but she's their number one suspect. The Question still remains, who pulled the trigger?

"Hey, beautiful." I turned around slowly to see a guy approaching me from the party. "I'm not interested." "But, I am." He cackled. "Well, that's too bad, huh?" I laughed, leaning against the wall as my vision cleared a bit. "Shut up." "And why should she listen to you?" That's when I noticed Tyson leaning against the refrigerator with his arms crossed over his chest. "And who might you be?" The guy turned to face Tyson instead of me. "Her boyfriend?" "No, but I'm the guy who just fucked your mom, and she said I should tell you how much she enjoyed it since your father can't compare." "You're a dead man walking, punk!" The guy charged at Tyson. And next thing I knew, Tyson was pulling the guy up from the floor by his shirt and shoving him towards the exit, effortlessly. I smirked. ☆☆☆☆ Ashley, the daughter of a millionaire, moves to a new city and hopes for a fresh start. With her sharp wit, she often finds herself at the center of school drama, not by choice, but by circumstances. Intent on maintaining a low profile at her new campus, her plan quickly falls apart when she mistakenly parks her bike in a reserved spot. Tyson, the school's notorious bad boy, is not just a troublemaker, but he's the youngest gang leader to be a part of a powerful mafia, feared by many but understood by few. Despite his fearsome reputation in the streets while other leaders might see him as a mere boy, Tyson is fiercely loyal to his inner circle, showing a side of him that few ever see. What will happen when their paths cross? ☆☆☆☆ "𝑫𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎." ☆☆☆☆

My guard started lowering and I instantly regretted it, he swiftly turned around, giving such a quick blow to the stomach that it winded me and I lost my balance, landing with a big thud on the floor, which I assume grabbed everyone's attention. "Alexis. Never ever lose focus! " His eyes held something more than anger, it held from what I could tell disappointment, "Don't expect your opposer to take a break. Or give you a chance to breathe. They are always looking for a weak spot, where they can get you down and break you, don't give them the opportunity. Do you understand me?" His tone came out harsh which I suspect was intended, he heaved I could tell he was trying to keep in control of his anger. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you." *** Alexis Reign has always been the one, the one to save the world, the one for someone, the one that always feared not just herself but of what she was capable of. She was the key. She was the savior of this world, from the bleak dystopian future that would befall us, all of us, the entire human race. She was our protector. She couldn't falter, she couldn't stumble, she couldn't hesitate. If she did she'd die, if she did we'd die. So, she has to make sacrifices for the greater good of the human race. But at what cost? Join her, join us as we unravel her story, can she save us, can she find herself, can she open up just enough for that special someone? Or will her fear be her downfall, not only for herself but for us all? ***

"Mate!" He growled, grabbing her by the waist as he leaned in to sniff her neck. Her mouth hung open in shock and her eyes bulged as he swiftly dodged a spear sent their way, carrying her along with him, his nose still on her neck. Who was this stranger? And how could he cling onto her this way in the middle of a battle? Wasn't he afraid of death? On the clanging of the iron spear against the floor, her eyes went even wider as the red veins in them began to get visible. Wait a minute! She raised her right knee into his groin just then and he let out a loud groan before letting go of her. On seeing his face, an angry snarl formed on her lips and she drew her gun, disgust filling up her entire being. This was the face of their worst enemy, the face of the man she was meant to kill, the face of a known lunatic. How dare he cling unto her that way with his wet snot on her neck? "Mate?" He moaned softly as he put his hands up in the air, his piercing eyes never leaving her face. Mate? Was he out of his ducking mind? Was he ... like possessed by an animal spirit or something? 'Shoot on sight.' The words of her commander rang in her ears, startling her. ***** He is the all powerful Alpha of the wolves, dangerous, bloodthirsty and the archenemy of the humans but what happens when the moon goodness curses his fate by mating him to a human? Would he lose his infamous reputation for her sake or go through eternal suffering by letting her go?

When I'm washing Julian White's pants, I pull out a management fee invoice from one of the pockets. Surprisingly enough, the address is the unit on the floor above my apartment. The thing is, Julian's name is put down as the apartment owner. As I clutch the invoice, I feel my blood turning into ice. Suddenly, I recall the way Julian kept telling me he had overtime shifts to pull over the past six months. Because of that, he often came home past midnight. There were a few times when I realized that his car was still parked in its designated parking slot of the apartment block despite the fact that he had already "gone out". When I asked Julian for the reason, he answered, "The gas prices are very high right now. Taking the subway is more convenient, not to mention I get to save more money for our family's expenses." I used to feel happy about the fact that Julian cared so much about our family. But now, I finally realize that his so-called overtime shifts are just excuses for him to spend time in the unit upstairs. At that moment, I hear the sounds of a key being inserted into the front door's lock. Julian is home. When he notices the invoice in my hand, he takes it from me casually. "Maybe the staff placed it in the wrong mailbox." I nod with a smile. "It's nothing. I'm going to take out the trash first." After leaving the apartment, I head upstairs right away. Once I knock on the door, the woman who came to open the door for me is heavily pregnant. It seems that she's about to give birth.

My crippled sister, Monica Porter, jumped from the roof of the classroom building. The day before she died, she had just been fitted with the custom prosthetic legs I had paid for with ten years of savings. She was glowing, excited to finally stand up on her own. But my wife's best friend, a guy she said was just like a brother to her, locked Monica inside an empty art room. He smashed her new legs, forced her to crawl on the floor and lick paint clean to retrieve the broken parts, and recorded everything on video. And my wife, a judge, ultimately ruled that the case could not stand. "The video cannot confirm the time it was recorded and may represent consensual performance art between both parties," she said. Sandra Pauley's final judgment was simple. "The deceased had a history of depression. The school and the defendant bear no responsibility." I smiled and cooked her a full table of food. The next day, I hung the bully, Eric Hoyles, from the school's flagpole and livestreamed it to the entire internet. "Honey, remember how you said Monica had such pretty legs?" I raised a claw hammer and brought it down on his ankle. "If you don't hand over the video evidence right now, I'll hook out his Achilles tendon one strand at a time and let him learn what it feels like to crawl!" The wind passed through. His screaming broke apart in the air, mixing with the strained creaking of the flagpole until it sounded almost like music. The live chat went insane. Meanwhile, I laughed until my eyes filled with tears.