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Isabella Appearance
Data de publicação:
2024-12-05 17:58:27
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The Mistress Epilogue - Book 2
R18“Put that down, Gabriel! That is not a ‘structural reinforcement,’ that is the leg of an antique chair, and it does not need to be painted Azure Blue.”The studio was a cathedral of light, the salt-cracked windows of the coastal estate having been replaced by massive panes of industrial glass that invited the Atlantic Ocean inside. Victoria sat perched on the top rung of a wooden ladder, her hair tied back in a messy knot, a streak of Gold Leaf shimmering across her cheekbone. She looked down with a mock-stern expression at the three-year-old boy currently attempting to ‘renovate’ the furniture.Gabriel Ethan looked up, his dark curls a tangled mess, clutching a thick paintbrush like a scepter. He had Zander’s defiant jaw and Victoria’s piercing, observant eyes. “It needs color, Mama. The chair is sad.”“The chair is French, Gabriel. It’s supposed to be moody,” a deep, rumbling voice chuckled from the doorway.Zander stood there, leaning against the frame. He looked younger than he
The Mistress Birth of Hope
“If you tell me to ‘breathe through the peak’ one more time, Zander Blackwood, I will ensure that the only peak you see is the one on the heart rate monitor after I’ve strangled you with this bedsheet.”Victoria’s voice was a strained, low hiss, but there was a flicker of that old, sharp humor in her eyes. She was leaning heavily against the headboard, her knuckles white as she gripped Zander’s forearms.Zander didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch at the threat. He simply adjusted the cool cloth on her forehead, his eyes fixed on hers with a focus that was absolute. “The doctor said you’re doing great, Livy. You’re at seven centimeters. The timing is perfect. Just like one of your site plans—ahead of schedule and under budget.”“This is not a construction site, Zander!” she gasped, her breath hitching as another wave of pressure began to build. “And I am currently… very over budget… on pain.”“I know,” he whispered, his voice the steady, grounding anchor he had promised to be. He leaned
The Mistress Final Ties
“If you try to serve Marcus that kale-quinoa sludge, Zander, he will literally hack our bank accounts and delete our existence just to spite your cooking.”I was leaning against the porch railing, watching Zander squint at a bowl of greens as if he were trying to negotiate a ceasefire with a salad. He had a wooden spoon in one hand and a look of deep, existential crisis on his face.“It’s healthy, Vic! Aris sent a three-page email about ‘anti-inflammatory superfoods’ for the second trimester,” Zander defended, waving the spoon toward the driveway where a dust cloud signaled the arrival of our only two friends in the world. “And besides, Marcus lives on energy drinks and spite. He needs a vegetable.”“He needs a burger and a cigarette, but he’ll settle for not being poisoned by your ‘healing path,’” I laughed, the sound feeling lighter in my chest than it had in years. I walked over, snagged a piece of kale, and made a face. “Yeah, don’t give him that. He’s carrying the papers. You don’
The Mistress Vow of the Sea
“If you keep staring at that toaster like it’s a bomb, Zander, it’s never going to pop. It’s a kitchen appliance, not a Blackwood security terminal.”Zander jumped, nearly dropping the butter knife. He turned to see me leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, my hospital-issued wristband still loosely circling my arm. For the first time in two years, the sharp, biting wit that had once been my hallmark wasn’t laced with acid; it was just… there.“It’s making a humming noise,” Zander muttered, his face flushing as he looked back at the bread. “I thought I’d fixed the wiring. I don’t want it to short-circuit while you’re trying to eat.”“It’s humming because it’s working,” I said, walking over and gently nudging him aside. “You’ve spent so much time fixing generators and boat engines that you’ve forgotten how normal life sounds. It’s okay for things to just… work, Zander.”He let out a breath, a short, huffing laugh that shook his shoulders. “I’m out of practice, Victoria. With ever
The Mistress Impossible
“She isn’t dying, Zander. But I need you to sit down before the floor becomes the only thing holding you up.”Dr. Aris didn’t look like the clinical, unshakable force of nature that had dismantled the Blackwood empire two years ago. Her white coat was rumpled, her glasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose, and her eyes—usually sharp enough to dissect a lie at fifty paces—were swimming in a glassy, bewildered light.Zander didn’t sit. He couldn’t. He stood in the center of the private trauma bay, the sterile LED lights reflecting off the dried mud on his boots and the salt-stain on his black funeral coat. He looked like a man who had been dragged through the gears of a machine and emerged barely recognizable as human. His hands were still curled into fists, his knuckles white from the hours spent gripping the edges of the hospital chair.“Is it the heart?” Zander’s voice was a jagged rasp, stripped of all hope. “Did her heart finally give out? I told you, Aris. I told you s
The Mistress Birthday Pilgrimage
“Do you have the lilies? He always liked the way the petals felt—like wax, he used to say. He’d try to peel them back to see if there was a secret inside.”My voice was thin, caught in the salt-heavy wind that whipped across the cliffs of our exile. I didn’t look at Zander as I climbed into the passenger seat of the old, rusted SUV. My hands were gloved, hiding the paint stains, but they couldn’t hide the tremor.Zander sat behind the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He was wearing the black coat he only wore once a year. He looked older today. The lines around his eyes weren’t just from the sun anymore; they were the structural cracks of a man holding up a mountain.“I have them, Victoria,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. “And the lavender for Rita. And the white roses for… for her.”He didn’t say the name. We never gave the stillborn girl a name. To name her was to make her a ghost that could follow us, and we already had enough shadows in thi
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