Vincent Purple Guy Novels & Stories

After Violet took a closer look at the man, she realized that this was the man who had been with Nanami Vincent. "If there's this man and this girl, the victory is on our side a little more." Violet is a person who understands the advantages of others, she is willing to sacrifice everything to achieve her goal. Richard is the weak point of Nanami Vincent, she will soften her heart because of this man.

She turned to the shopkepper and said, “Do you not have trews?” The shopkepper blinked, “What?” “Trews. Daks? Leggings? Trousers? Slacks?” The shopkepper smiled, “You must not be from here?” Violet cleared her throat, “How do you know that?” “Your accent is quite.. different. No Star clan indigenes sound like you, and.. your hair colour pretty much stand out, no one here has had purple hair for decades.” Violet shrugged. Noticing Violet's disinterest in any further conversation, the shopkepper went around the shop to pick a few items and when he was done, he went back to Violet was still standing.

Vincent punched him again but unlike a while ago, he managed to not fall to the floor. "You done introducing yourself? I guess it's my turn now," Vincent said. He grabbed the man's collar and placed his mouth near his ear. "I am Vincent fucking Mogilevich, just in case you don't fucking know me." He violently pushed the man and leave the dancefloor with Celestine in his arm. Clyde swallowed his saliva as his face becomes pale. He looked sharply to two of his friends that helped him stand up. "Why no one tells me that he's young Mogilevich?!"

I hadn't cared then, and it hadn't changed now. There was a sparkle in Vincent's eyes. Before he could reply, someone called out to him. "Hey, Vinny!" It was the latest winner of the mud scuffle. He was abnormally tall and brutish looking. Like a Scottish Highlander with his wide-set shoulders, his long dark-red wild hair pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck. His bright green eyes were in contrast to the mud smearing his face. His chest was bare and the tats across his torso were on full display. He was definitely a tall drink of water. "Stop being a f*cken prude and get your ass over here!"

Either his collar bone would break from his weight or Hezi’s fingers would tear though his flesh. “What is you name?” Demanded Hezi. “I am, I am Vincent. Th, th, this here’s shop owner.” Vincent felt as if he was one the verge of loosing his conscious. The pain was anguishing. Hezi started laughing as he let Vincent go. “Vincent, I like you. You seem intelligent. If you see that man let me know. I will be sure to reward you.” Hezi took a breath from the laughter.

I was just…I was just another guy, a failure. And for so long I thought the thing that made me Vincent was the club, after working tooth and nail to get it standing, it was my only achievement. I couldn’t let it go, I couldn’t watch it crumble to the floor because that would mean that what those people said were true. That I was failure…somewhere along the line, I decided that being a bad person was much better than being a failure.

He looked at Purple, smiling at her, "We didn't know that the great sister-in-law is this beautiful." "Idiot. How about you introduced us to her first ?" Ben proposed. Purple smiling at the three unfamiliar good looking boys, "Hello. Nice meeting you all." As she extends her hand to the three. Ben took it, "Ben. Ben Bertin" Purple made an o shape on her mouth. She knew about his company. The next one shook her hand with a bit of firmness, "Chris Robbin. I was the head of the Vance car accident case and millers case." Purple bowed at him as she thanked the guy.

She really is trying to play it cool rather than going for what I know she wants to know and I might make her work for it if I weren’t so excited. “Well, the friends are great and the musician is as sexy as ever. He even wore subtle touches of purple, which was not a detail lost on me. I would question whether it was just a coincidence, but we kissed and we are going out on a date tomorrow night, so I think it was intentional.” I squeal a little louder than intended.

I didn't know since when they prepared this thing. Shortly, Vincent came out of his cubicle. As expected, he changed into a red T-shirt with a pop art photo of himself. As Vincent walked over, he took a bottle of champagne and brought it to the table. Vincent then poured the champagne for Amelia, him, and me. Then he invited us to a toast to celebrate his candidacy. "You dare to say that you are defending Saltyville," I said, opening the chat. "And ..." Vincent asked. "Isn't that a risky move because it goes against the public's perception of wanting to evict the prostitution complex."

A tool for Vincent. My father's son.