Novelas y relatos de Vincent Sinclair

This house was a tool, just like everything else. As I pushed open the heavy oak door to the study, the Sinclair reps turned toward me, three men and one woman, all in tailored suits, their faces a mix of caution and calculated politeness. Standing in front was a silver-haired man, probably in his late fifties, whom I assumed to be the one who called the shots. A face I had never seen before since the start of this deal. He stood first, extending his hand. "Mr. Grey. Good to see you in person," he said, his voice firm and fearless. “I'm Mr. Victor Sinclair.” I shook it firmly, my grip deliberate. "Let's get straight to business, shall we?"

Arc 3: Sugar and Sin Vincent Hale is fifty-one years old, obscenely wealthy, and the most dangerous thing that has ever happened to my bank account and my underwear simultaneously. I'm twenty-four. I have a studio apartment he pays for, a card he tops up every Monday without being asked, and a standing Friday night arrangement that his wife thinks is a client dinner. It is not a client dinner. "You're late," he says when I let myself in.

"Don't dare come near my people again" Damont got on the elevator wondering how he was going to get information on Vinca. He needed to do something before she appeared again. He wasn't suited for jail and there was no way he was going to do time.

The results I was working for had finally shown, and I was going to enjoy that moment, no matter what. I smiled at Declan as he shook me vigorously. What he didn't know was that Vincenzo was still out in the wastelands, plotting his revenge on me. He also didn't know that the burnt head in his courtyard belonged to Denzel, who had failed me.

—Morrison Uncle Morrison. Back when I was in the family,he was the only one who taught me how to shoot, how to stand my ground in a ruthless world of men.For the past ten years,he had written to me regularly. He never once mentioned Vincent's name in his letters,but I could guess what had happened on the West Coast. Vincent had issued a global kill order on Lila and Marcus.He took back his syndicate and slaughtered the Tomahawk Bratva until there was nothing left.

44. Sinful I don’t know when I slept but I woke up by 3:00am; I was exhausted and hungry, I felt weak to my bones like I was about to faint. I struggled to push myself out of bed and when I did, I saw a tray of covered dishes on the bedside table, and a note that read: Just rest A

His smile returned in full force as he settled down on it and motioned for me to do the same. “Please, Ms. Fairchild," he purred, "take a seat. Let's get down to business." As I settled into the chair, Mr. Sinclair leaned forward, a diamond ring flashing on his finger. “Ms. Fairchild,” He began as his voice dropped to a confidential whisper. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. Elijah Sinclair, COO of Gadget Inc., and, as of yesterday, a most fascinated admirer of your architectural prowess." He sure did know how to play the games. It was psychology to earn yourself in someone’s best book by making a nice statement about things they cherished the most.

He wasn’t one of Holloway’s guards. But he wasn’t a stranger, either. Vincent. Damian Moretti’s right-hand man. A slow smirk played at the corner of his lips. “Looking for someone, Sinclair?” Ava forced a casual expression. “Just enjoying the view.” Vincent chuckled, low and knowing. “I don’t think Moretti would appreciate you straying too far.” Her jaw tightened. “I don’t work for him.” Vincent’s grip on her wrist loosened, but his amusement remained. “Not yet.”

Sinclair glances back at me with a smile before turning back to Vincent, saying, "You heard those?" Vincent nods, saying, "I did, and I hung the second I did. I thought of staying on phone just to tease you with it, but Goddamn! She sounded like she was having the best time of her life. Must be a lucky one. " Oh, thanks to the fucking heavens! He didn't hear me screaming his name. Though I doubt he would have recognized my voice, I'm sure Sinclair called my name. "She truly was. A hot one too. " Sin turns to wink at me, and I choke on my drink; Vincent's curious gaze turns to me, while Sinclair's amused smile pins on me.

The small nodd of Maeve’s head, still wrapped in her mothers arms, was the only evidence that she had heard him. I knew how much Julius hated Adrian in this moment. It vibrated through our bond in sickening waves of murderous rage. But despite his harsh ulterior, Julius knew his people on a personal level. He wanted to tell Maeve that he would fucking murder Adrian for what he had done to her, to us. That he would keep him alive as he broke bones and removed organs, not the vital ones of course, the ones you could (very painfully) live without, until he finally decided to end his miserable life.