Anastasia Marie Novel Novels & Stories

Kayne asked, sounding skeptical, “And, what is the story behind Antonio Rossi and Nicholai Bianchi? I thought they were childhood friends?” Before anyone could answer him, the door opened for the second time and for the second time Anastasia walked in. She stood there, her face pale but determined as she looked at us and then at the laptop screen. Then, she said what no one could've expected, “I will marry him.” For a whole minute silence stretched in the room. It was clear that Anastasia was listening at the door. This one was a brat, no doubt Kayne looked half mad himself all the time.

We were on this ridiculously opulent cruise ship for Giovanni and Juliana’s engagement, a grand spectacle designed to announce to the world what I already knew: Giovanni was going to marry someone else. I continued to stare at Anastasia, who was already roaming around my room. She was inspecting every corner of my cruise ship cabin, a place I considered my sanctuary in this floating palace of forced pleasantries. Her bright eyes, so much like Giovanni’s but laced with a mischievous glint I rarely saw in him, darted from my stack of untouched books to the small, framed photo of a sunset I’d taken years ago. She was like a very elegant, very nosy hurricane.

DEMETRIA A few days later . . . “Girl, you’re glowing. Look at you!” Anastasia shrieked the second I stepped through the glass doors of the boutique. Her voice carried over racks of satin and lace, earning a side-eye from one of the consultants in black heels. I laughed, cheeks warming. “Glowing? Please, it’s just jet lag mixed with too much gelato.” “Uh-uh,” she wagged her finger, strutting over in her oversized sunglasses. “That’s not jet lag, babe, that’s the ‘Marion Whitfield effect.’”

Leaning in closer, clearly tipsy, he added, "tell me more about you." "Yes," Tobias, his friend chimed in, hand raised high with a beer bottle, "I'm interested, too." I blushed, giggling. "But you already know a lot. We've been friends for a couple of weeks now." "Come on, guys," Talia, Tyler's twin sister and my new best friend, threw her arm over my shoulder, "you know her. Anastasia Miracle, moved here from Arizona with her mother, goes to the same college with us."

Anastasia's POV I looked down at the contract again. The pages lay neatly on Damien's desk, waiting for my signature. Just a few minutes ago, I had been ready to shake his hand and leave. Now there was an entirely different decision in front of me. Marriage. The word kept circling in my head. I had only just signed my divorce papers. I wasn't sure I was ready to become someone's wife again, even if this marriage was nothing more than an agreement. I slowly picked up the contract and started reading it from the beginning.

I exchange a quick glance with Liam before turning to the woman in front of us. She's in heels too but we're both clocking the same height, she has nice brown hair that constructs her face and high cheek bones perfectly well. I can clearly remember her name 'Anastasia collin', age. Thirty five, was once pregnant but lost her child, and is married to the late mayor, who's kind of not late, Harry Houston. According to the book, which warned that she's a very sly person and also a narcisst, I am glad my memory is doing a great job right now.

He can’t even wait for us to get divorced before bringing home his mistress? “Bastard!” I curse under my breath. He pretends to be upset, as though he is not aware of what has happened. “I didn’t know you were such a whore, Anastasia.” Marian rises to her feet and takes deliberate steps towards me. “You were asked to meet with a client to seal a contract deal, but you went to a hotel and slept with some men. Did you do this because of money? Are you so cheap that you had to sell your body and pride to some useless men for some little change?”

I want them to see that there’s nothing they can do to me that will break me. That’s how I survive this place and these people. I pick up the book on my nightstand and continue reading. I read for a few hours before a knock at the door interrupts me. I close the book and say, “You can come in, Hubert.” I’m incredibly shocked when I see Anastasia walk into the room. She’s wearing tight leather pants and high-heeled boots, and on top she has a black tank top. Her hair is pin straight. She looks like she stepped right out of a movie screen.

Anastasia tried to open her eyes, but she couldn't. An invisible restraint had made her body unable to move. A few minutes in the fire had made her relieve her past life. "Do you want a boy or a girl, Liam?" Ana asked dreamily. "It doesn't matter as long as it's our baby sweetheart," He said and pulled her closer, looking at her affectionately. She smiled and rested her head on his chest. "I love you, Liam," She said and looked at his beautiful face. "I love you too…more than anything in this world" He replied and locked his lips with hers.

Somewhere in that exchange was the outline of the bridge neither of them wanted to admit they were building. Anastasia appeared in the doorway with the tray and the look of a woman whose life has rolled more men into recovery than a church hospital. She gave Nicos a glance that pinned him to his manners and me a glance that remembered the year I refused to eat tomatoe soup for political reasons. Her hair was pulled back, dark and exacting. Her dress was navy, the color of sea that return ships to safe harbors. “Eat,” she said to Elky, as if she was offering him a chance to exist.