Vincent Fgteev Novelas e Histórias

she teased, her voice light but with an underlying note of concern. Vincent looked at her for a moment, the weight of her words sinking deeper than he let on. She was right, of course. He had the skills, the reputation, the experience to carve out his own path. But his decision wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about proving anything to anyone. "I’ve made my decision, Ma," he said, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering. "I have a meeting with the CEO of Festive in two days."

Cassie began, jabbing Natasha in the arm. "What?" "You freaking out in front of Lucas King!" "The artist?" "Oh, no. The fisherman who happens to have really cool hair!" Natasha gave her an annoyed look. "Nothing. I was just a little dazed from the football that was coming right at my face." "Yeah, sure," Cassie added, rolling her eyeballs. "How do I still put up with you?" "Duuh...I'm your bff and in case you hadn't noticed, the last 'f' is for forever !" Cassie responded with her high spirited tone, "besides, where else are you gonna find an awesome friend like me?"

A tool for Vincent. My father's son.

He'd told me once, years ago young enough that he'd pronounced it Theo-en, drawing it out in two careful syllables that seventeen was his favorite number. It had done something to me then. It was doing worse things to me now. Vincent padded across the living room to the fish tank in bare feet, damp hair, wearing that easy unhurried expression of a man who had no idea he was the center of anyone's universe. He moved like a regular, uncomplicated person. Like someone with good days and bad days, strong points and irritating ones. Like someone I was supposed to have gotten out of my system. "There you are," he said softly, leaning toward the tank. "Look at you, Raggie. More beautiful than e

Let them both squirm. "Dr. Vale. You look absolutely stunning." I turned. Vincent Reid stood behind me, smiling. Tall. Handsome. Mid-forties with silver threading through his dark hair. CEO of TechCore, one of Apex's main competitors. And an old friend. "Vincent. It's good to see you." He kissed my hand, lingering just slightly. "The pleasure is entirely mine. I've been following your career. COO of Apex? That's quite an accomplishment."

“What did Alex tell you?”, Charles asked, irritated. The person burst out laughing seeing as what he heard was true, if not why would his friend get irritated. “Vincy”, Charles growled. “Calm down man, no need to growl at me. I just heard you've finally met your match”, Vincent teased again. Vincent was Charles and Alexander bestfriend, and was popularly called Vincy by his friends. He wasn't in the City, as he had left for a medical programme in the suburbs.

He needed to do something about it or he would stuck forever like this. On the next day, Vincent visited Cedric again. This time he brought his laptop with him. He wanted to show Cedric about important office works. Vincent has also predicted about something before. The reasons he visited Cedric almost every day when he was free was to see whoever visited Cedric. Today, he believed that Gerald would pay a visit to see his son. It would be a great chance for Vincent to show off.

Upon hearing that name, Vincent frustratedly loosened up his tie. "Ce nom vous dit quelque chose, fiston?" Does that name ring a bell, son? "Père, it's not what you think it is," Father. Vincent defensively said. "Whatever the fuck it is fix the fucking problem," Don Venedict said with an evident authority in his voice. "Je ne veux pas de problème avec Stevenson. J'espère avoir été clair." I don't want a problem with Stevenson. I hope I made that clear. He added.

Vincent, whose own past had been kept hidden from his family was now worried to death about his niece. Vincent had been in a team of secret agents before he had gotten caught in the Afganistan, thirteen years ago. His years were no less than hell from what he had to endure there. His memories were still vivid. Vincent was the kind of man who was ready to take a bullet for anyone who was close to him, give up his life for them. That was the reason that he had not contacted his family for ten years because of being trapped in Afghanistan. And when he came out free, back to the country, he found out that his sister was dead, and Hope had moved somewhere else.

Two heads were always better than one. Vincent nodded breezily, leaning back in the chair across from my desk. “There is nothing out of the ordinary about Evelina,” Vincent said honestly, but I could sense a wariness in his tone. “She was born to Joel and Nikita Perez. Nikita divorced her husband when Evelina was seven. Fucker dislocated Evelina’s arm at one of Sinclair’s work related events. I wanted to rearrange Joel’s face. He’s still slinking around here in the packhouse trying to find someone who will give him alcohol.” Vincent’s face became ominous as he spoke. “Suceeded last night but we were able to get the bottle away from him.”