Victorious Christmas Novelas e Histórias

I've been ignoring him, but his persistence is becoming problematic. I deleted the message without reading it. The Christmas gala is in two days. The annual event where the city's elite gather to see and be seen, to make deals and alliances over champagne and caviar. I'll need to bring Ava, show her off as my devoted wife, maintain the illusion that everything is fine. She'll smile and play her part because she has no choice. Because I've made sure she has nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. And I'll stand beside her, touching her waist, playing the role of perfect husband, hating myself a little more with every passing moment.

When he returned, he saw his companion animal kneeling next to her bed, muttering something to herself under her breath before making the cross sign. Leaning against the door frame, he questioned her, "You are aware that Christ was a human being, aren't you?" Liberty staggered to her feet and asked, "What?" as she attempted to get up. Aric responded, "Christ, he was a vampire." It can be proven that he was a direct descendant of Saint Januaries. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw the look of bewilderment on her face. He moved to sit on the side of his bed facing her and suggested, "How about I tell you a bedtime story?" as he did so. "How about it?"

VOLUME TWO: FINDING LOVE IN CHRISTMAS COVE "Are you sure you don't want to come over tonight?" Jocelyn asked Kiki Long after the Christmas Eve service. They both sang in the church choir together and had been friends for years. "After all, it's Christmas Eve."

“Understand?” I laughed, the sound happy and free, and leaned into his solid strength, hugging my bunny tighter. Victor clapped his hands together loudly, his face a picture of triumph. “NOW that’s the energy I wanted to see! Sparks! Drama! Romance! It’s perfect! Absolutely perfect!”

She had called his honesty out for what it was the first crack in the ice around his carefully armored heart. He moved to the window, staring at the skyline, watching the first hints of dawn stretch across the horizon. Victory had always looked like control, like contracts signed, secrets exposed, enemies toppled. But standing here now, he realized that triumph was no longer a matter of numbers or documents. Triumph meant surviving the cost of his own heart and the potential loss of hers.

He was the monster who executed her sister. She was the weapon sent to tear his empire apart. Evelyn Mercer entered the dark, opulent underworld of Chicago with a single, dangerous obsession: bring down Julian Vane. Armed with stolen financial ledgers, a forged marriage contract, and a cold hatred that burned brighter than fear, she walked directly into the lion’s den ready to play the dutiful bride while secretly burning his syndicate to the ground. Julian Vane is a kingpin accustomed to loyalty bought in blood and enemies buried in silence. He knows his cold, sharp-witted new wife is a trap wrapped in silk and ice. But instead of breaking her, he finds himself mesmerized by her lethal in

Damian's POV The victory howl still echoed in my bones hours later, a primal chorus that had ripped through the estate as Voss's lifeless body hit the mill floor. Blood—mine, his, the hybrids' metallic tang—still crusted my skin beneath the fresh shirt I'd thrown on. The pack had feasted that night: roaring fires in every hearth, tables groaning under venison and whiskey, songs of triumph bellowing until the rafters shook. Viktor had clasped my forearm again, his grip bruising with respect, promising Shadowclaw warriors for our borders "until the moon falls." Even Grandma Eleanor had allowed herself a rare second dram of scotch, her eyes glassy with pride as she toasted, "To the Blackwood li

Violet put her hands down in her lap. "Yes. Christmas is coming, and I don't want to get injured. It will be my first Christmas with my baby." "I hope this is over soon," he mumbled. "I hope Victor will have a normal Christmas, although it seems impossible." Violet was silent for a long time as she thought about her husband. Her heart was empty, longing for him. This mission was one way to save the children and her husband. She also hoped that Leon would do the job well and secure Victor.

He was tall, really tall for a Santa Claus, that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes—oh, his eyes. They were an icy gray that seemed to bare my soul, uncovering every hidden secret before his eyes. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, but I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the way those eyes made me feel, something so distinct yet I couldn't put my hands on it. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his deep baritone causing my heart to thrum so loudly in my chest I could only stand there and gawk like a damn fool.

And together, they walked inside. The front door opened to reveal Victor Reynolds, a tall man in his late forties with a professional smile and sharp eyes. He looked like he's been waiting to usher them inside. “Mr. Russo, Miss Melody,” he greeted warmly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” “Merry Christmas,” Melody added politely. “And to you,” Victor replied. “Please, come in.” The house smelled faintly of fresh pine and polished wood. Warm light flooded the open living space, illuminating high ceilings, wide windows, and an elegant simplicity that immediately made Melody’s chest ache.