White Collar Suits Neal Caffrey Novels & Stories

Only psychopaths drink black coffee. That’s what Cassie always said whenever I ordered an Americano at starbucks. As I stared at the man in front of me, I couldn’t help but agree with her. Trent Dalton arrived fashionably late this morning. I picked a casual cafe for us to meet in, knowing it was our best bet. I even picked out an area where nobody would know us. We didn’t want to be spotted by anybody, especially the press. Draped in his stupid suit, he seemed like the devil himself, sipping on his black coffee.

Luckily tomorrow is Saturday so at least we didn't have to worry about coming to work at 9 tomorrow. Not to mention flying while in full business attire, such a hassle. Everyone knows flying is only meant to be done in casual clothes and it's frustrating that we won't get time to change so we have to dress accordingly. I was wearing a black pantsuit with a white turtle neck top crop top underneath with high-waisted pants so it barely showed 2 inches off my stomach. Nayel was looking dashing as always, as much as I hate to admit it he knew how to dress to impress. He was wearing a grey suit with a blue checkered design on it with a white button-down shirt underneath and a matching blue tie. H

he told the driver as soon as he got into the vehicle. The air enveloped him as he pushed through the large glass door of the café, the gentle sounds of a bluesy jazz song and a warm blend of roasted coffee beans. Haley was sitting at a booth by the window, silently staring out while holding her chin in her palm. She was dressed in a gorgeous soft white off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater. Her collarbone's delicate curve caught the soft, warm light, and the fine wool fell over her shoulders, creating a relaxed yet subtly beautiful figure that carried a calm warmth that seemed to pull at something within of him.

The deputies and paramedics that had saved her life were on the row behind the sheriff. Neo sat down next to Reese in the front row. Reese looked at his friend and smiled. Neo wore a black suit with a white shirt and purple tie. He also noted that the only piece of jewelry that Jolene wore required a key to remove. Helen leaned into Reese and linked their fingers. Looking down at her, he knew that she had noticed the coordinated outfits also.

partner was six foot four, devastatingly handsome, and had a knack for making you feel like he saw through every single lie you told yourself. The sound of the café door opening sent a ripple of awareness down my spine before I even turned. My gaze found him instantly—dark hair perfectly styled, broad shoulders framed in a tailored charcoal suit that screamed money and power even in this casual setting. Adrian Castellane walked in like he owned the room. And maybe he did, in a way. People glanced up, some whispered, others pretended not to stare. And then his eyes… those impossibly dark, unreadable eyes… found mine.

☆☆☆☆𝕬𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖔'𝖘 𝕮𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔 {𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖓𝖔𝖔𝖓 3:45𝖕𝖒}☆☆☆☆ The office overlooked the roulette floors from a one-way glass wall. Below, dice clattered, chips stacked and lives changed with a spin. But up there, Antonio leaned against the glass, sipping espresso from a white demitasse cup like it was whiskey. He was dressed in a deep navy suit that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly—no tie, top two buttons undone, exposing just enough collarbone to be distracting. A black Patek Philippe wrapped around his wrist, gleaming like the weapon it was.

I cursed under my breath. I got down from the car and walked to the coffee shop with my shades shielding me from the rays of the mid-morning sun. it reflected on my blue suit and brought that 'dashing' aura wealth always seems to possess. Nicholas Grey had a royal blue suit on. On his cuffs were the most expensive cufflinks that money could buy. His suit lacked a tie due to the fact that he isn't a fan of those but even at that he didn't need it to look dashing. Every part of his dressing is exquisite and extravagant. As usual. What else should one expect from the billion-dollar CEO of GreyCrop.?

The glass-walled conference room echoed with the hum of low conversations and clinking coffee cups. Suits mingled. Deals were being drafted, mergers whispered over spreadsheets and handshakes. Kael stood tall, sharp in a tailored charcoal suit, his presence commanding without effort. His silver cufflinks gleamed under the warm recessed lighting, matching the steel in his eyes.

COLT The Corporate Dinner was in full swing when I walked in. Dean was the first person to spot me. “Wardrobe Malfunction?” he asked as he hugged me and patted my back. “No.” I replied, withdrawing from the hug, and brushing down the lapels of my suit. “This is a work function, Colt.” He said through gritted teeth, his grip tightening around his champagne glass. “I understand that a necktie is asking too much from you, but showing up shirtless, really?”

The coffee in my hand had long gone cold. It sat untouched on my desk, forgotten the moment I saw the surveillance photo from last night. Raffaele Moretti, wearing that same infuriating smirk, exiting a building on 12th Street the one our CI claimed doubled as a laundering front. He was in a tailored grey suit, not a hair out of place, walking like he didn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, I was here, pacing in my office, nerves fraying like the hem of my jacket. Every instinct in me screamed he was taunting me. Again.