Victor Van Dort Novels & Stories

“Look at this Damien. These are not normal cargo logs. The weights do not match the declared goods. Something heavy is moving through Rotterdam under fake labels.” I rubbed my eyes and leaned in closer. The numbers blurred for a second then snapped into focus. “You are right. This is not random. Victor used this port for years. Look at the dates. Every major deal he closed had shipments coming through here. Gold. Art. Even people sometimes.”

He shows me the vial of stardust, and he sticks it inside my bra. "There, now you have the stardust.” He says it huskily. “Thank you, Austin.” I say, and grind my ass against his hard dick, making him groan, and wrap his hand around my neck. "Now it's time to show you that I’m the only man that can make this pussycat all crazy.” He growls, slams me against the tree, and crashes his lips against mine.

But even as we celebrated our success, a new challenge loomed on the horizon, threatening to test the very foundations of our relationship. As the dust settled from the battle with Donovan, a shadowy figure emerged from the depths of Victor's past. A man named Alexander Petrov, a former business associate, resurfaced with a vengeance. He had harbored a deep grudge against Victor for years, nursing a bitter resentment that had festered and consumed him.

worse by taking it out on him. I winced at the thought and shook my head, “Was this Genevieve lady a witch?” I stared at Dalton as he took another curve like a pro race-car driver with one hand on the wheel and the other on mine. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, “The most powerful witch to have ever existed.” I could feel fear and sadness coming off of him. Which made me wonder what the hell happened to Genevieve. I sat there like a statue staring at the road with the gears turning in my head. This could explain mine and family’s odd ways. The dreams and also being able to pick up on emotions better than the average person. I saw the turn coming up that would take on to the ro

I was just about to fold myself into the vehicle when I halted, glaring Victor dead in the eyes as I questioned, "How can I be certain that you don't plan to do anything to me?" Victor huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose as his features twisted in a pensive mask. After a minute or two, he began signing, "Message your friend. Tell her you're with me. My name is Victor Silva. If she doesn't hear from you in the morning then she should file a charge against me." Silva. Hispanic decent. His tanned skin suddenly made a lot of sense. I fished out my phone from the pocket of my trench coat and opened a chat with Erica.

Music played in the background, adding to the celebratory ambiance of the evening. Donovan stood before the gathered crowd, a smile playing on his lips as he raised his glass in a toast. "First and foremost, I give God thanks and secondly, I must thank my dear wife, Mrs Braide Donovan Garrett," he stated proudly, his voice warm with affection. "Your unwavering support, love, and belief in me have been my greatest source of strength. I am endlessly grateful for finding you." Boma's cheeks flushed with pride as Donovan's words washed over her, and she met his gaze with affectionate admiration. The crowd erupted into cheers, echoing Donovan's sentiments and celebrating the newfound victory.

Victor added. ****

Then, he stumbled back outside and left everyone behind in confusion. Dustin grinned. Victor had made a smart move. Victor stumbled out of the West family villa gates and called for someone to help him. Richard and Nathan were taken aback when they saw this. Margaret and Amara were also surprised onscreen. Victor was the greatest fighter of Lannopolis, and he had only gone inside for a few minutes. How did he come out looking so terrible? “Mr. Cain, what happened?” Richard asked with a frown.

Please delete those photos and forget you ever saw them! No reply. I spent the rest of the night in a panic, checking my phone every few minutes. Nothing. The silence was torture. Shame burned through me The next afternoon, the doorbell rang. I opened the door wearing a simple yellow sundress, no bra, and my heart nearly stopped. Victor stood there in a white button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing strong forearms, and dark jeans. He carried a toolbox in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. He looked calm, composed… but his deep brown eyes burned when they met mine.

With Victor's friendly and supportive presence, I'm feeling more confident and ready to tackle whatever challenges come our way. ###############