Novels by Flowervil

Damon Westwood The fresh air caressed my face, the sound of the waves was soothing. The sky was starry and the heavenly atmosphere of our hotel made the moment even more magical. The Maldives was an obvious choice for Sasha. She wanted to spend our honeymoon in the sun and tanning. So I followed him. I still couldn't believe it. Pinch me I'm dreaming. When Jonathan called me a few days after showing up at my house completely drunk, he said he had to talk to me and that it was a matter of life and death. At first I was skeptical, what he wanted to talk about was so important. He arranged to meet me at a restaurant not far from his office. He looked anxious. He only wanted Sasha to do something that she will surely regret in the near future. -I know you both love each other. He said. Then he offered me something. That I arrange to divorce before marriage. That way I will have the opportunity to propose to Sasha. I was confused and didn't understand why he would

Sasha J. Morales It's really weird that Jonathan wants to talk to me at this exact moment. I don't need an extra dose of stress. I already want to run away and leave everything behind. So I hope it's nothing serious. What’s so important to say? -It can't wait until after the ceremony? -He insists on seeing you now -Uh…Okay. You can give us a moment. -Yes my darling, no worries. My friends accompanied by my mother leave the room. The makeup artists and hair stylists also leave the room and I find him alone for a few minutes before Jonathan enters the room. He freezes the minute he sees me and I can feel admiration in his eyes. -Wow. You are really beautiful. -THANKS. You are just as beautiful. I pick at my nails not knowing where to put myself. This situation is oddly awkward. And normally she shouldn't be since it's my future husband standing in front of me. -I was really lucky to have you in my life. Eu? I'm seriously starting to panic so he takes my hands in his and le

Sasha J. Morales -Don't you think you should slow down on the Margarita, I don't want you to be half tipsy while the ceremony hasn't started yet. -Believe me, it’s the best solution for me to get through this day -You're exaggerating June. I say with a smile It was Saturday morning The Four Seasons was in turmoil Final preparations were underway It was the wedding day. I was completely exhausted even though it was just 11am My mother, June, Sam and Ethan were with me. They were getting their makeup done while Ethan put on his groomsman suit. June was on her third drink and she might end up on the floor if she continued drinking. -I can't believe my baby is getting married. -Me neither. I tell my mother Jonathan wanted us to get married out of town but I insisted we do it here. -I'm really stressed, gee, wouldn't someone have a joint please? -Sasha??? -What mom? ?? Everyone has their own solutions -I have an idea! June screams. How about we run away and run away to Mex

Damon Westwood -Where are we going darling? -It is a surprise. I took my mother in the evening for a little walk. I wanted to get some fresh air before taking him somewhere. We had been at the park for 30 minutes now and we were walking arm in arm. The evening runners were finishing their races, some flower sellers were still present and the lovers were holding hands to enjoy the last rays of the sun. It was really pleasant. -Tell me my son…so there really is more hope with Sasha? I huff before leading her to one of the free benches and making us sit down. -She's getting married, mom. -Damon it’s not- I cut it off immediately. Trying to convince me or give me false hope is completely useless. -Mom, stop, that’s enough. I know that you really like Sasha and that you also want me to be happy, but I think it's time to move on. All I wish for her is that she is happy and if that happiness is near Jonathan then so be it. It breaks my heart to say it out loud but it also makes

Sasha J. Morales I had locked myself in the guest room with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, lying on the floor. It was either half full or half empty. In short, I don't know, my mind is already clouded by alcohol. John hadn't come home yet even though it was well into the night and that suited me, I had no desire to confront him this evening. However, my parents were a completely different story. My mother had been trying to get her out of this damn room for an hour now but I needed to isolate myself a little. I thought I had finally put the past behind me but it caught up with me. Damn, no matter how hard I looked I don't know how they got their hands on this story. I was always careful not to be recognized and Sam always made sure our personal information didn't leak. So how is this possible? I pick up my phone before turning it on. It kept vibrating so I had to turn it off to get some peace. And it’s no surprise that I see missed calls from Ethan, Sam, June but also Jonathan

Damon Westwood -It’s my fault for going to see him. You're obsessed with a divorce that won't happen. Someone had to calm you down We were in our house, I had come home because I had gone to see friends not far away. And I was lazy to drive to my apartment. And I decided to talk to the crazy woman who will soon be my ex-wife. -You really think that involving my father will change anything in our situation. -Someone has to slap you on the wrist, you're behaving like a capricious kid. I massage my eyebrows, I'm on the verge of having a horrible migraine. I start to laugh quietly. -Ella what the hell are you looking for? We are going to divorce and nothing can stop me from doing it, not even my father. -Are you aware that I still have all my physical faculties and that if I refuse to sign you cannot force me to do so? You at least know that, right? Yes I know about it but she won't have a choice. She used me as a pawn to get revenge on Sasha and in our divorce she will be mine.

The heavy scent of whiskey and cigar smoke lingered in the air of my office, mixing with the faint aroma of leather and old books. I leaned back in my chair, fingers drumming against the polished mahogany desk as I stared at the man sprawled lazily across from me.Zayn smirked, twirling the glass of whiskey in his hand. "You called me in here like it was urgent, but all I see is you brooding over Dante Moretti like an ex-lover. What’s the deal?"I shot him a flat look. "Dante is becoming a problem. A problem that needs to be handled before he starts thinking he has an upper hand."Zayn raised an eyebrow. "Handled how? Because if you’re suggesting something permanent, you know that’s a hell of a move. He’s still one of the most powerful men in the Italian syndicate. Killing him outright would cause more chaos than it’s worth."I exhaled sharply, swirling the ice in my own drink. "I don’t need to kill him. I need to send a message. A clear one."Zayn leaned forward, his usual playfulnes

The gala continued in full swing, a grand display of power, wealth, and deception. The air smelled of expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and the underlying tension of unspoken rivalries. As I moved through the crowd, my arm looped through Nikolai’s out of sheer necessity, I felt suffocated by the weight of expectations pressing down on me.He had insisted we make the rounds together, greeting the most powerful figures in the underworld, exchanging pleasantries with people who would kill us if given the chance. My smile was a well-rehearsed lie, my posture an act of defiance against a fate I had never chosen.Nikolai, on the other hand, thrived in this environment. He was the epitome of confidence, every smirk, every calculated glance, designed to assert his dominance. His hand rested possessively on my waist, a silent warning to anyone foolish enough to think I was anything less than his."You look like you’re contemplating murder," he murmured near my ear, his lips barely brushing my sk

The reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. I smoothed my hands over the deep red silk of my gown, the fabric clinging to my curves like a second skin. The slit along my leg was scandalously high, a calculated choice. If I was going to suffer through an entire evening in the company of power-hungry criminals, I might as well look like a queen while doing it. Behind me, Nikolai watched in silence. I could feel his gaze, sharp and burning, raking over my body like a physical touch. I hadn't heard him arrive and I noticed that he hadn't taken his eyes off me since he arrived. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might start to think you actually like what you see,” I said, tilting my head with a smirk. His jaw tensed slightly, but his lips curled into something wicked. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here.” His words sent a strange thrill down my spine, one I refused to acknowledge. Instead, I turned back to my reflection, adjusting the delicate strap of m

Nikoali Volkov The low hum of the city beyond the towering glass windows of my office barely registered as I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled under my chin. The news had come in an hour ago—Dante Moretti, the ever-ambitious Italian snake, was making moves on my business. Not just any moves. He was trying to slide his way into contracts that had been mine for years, whispering sweet promises into the ears of my collaborators, hoping to turn them against me. A power play. A pathetic one. I had seen it before—rival families thinking they could test my patience, mistaking my calculated silence for weakness. But Dante? He should have known better. He should have known that I don’t *do* forgiveness. And yet, he had made a mistake far worse than just business. He had forgotten that his daughter almost bore my name. My grip tightened around the glass of whiskey in my hand as I took a slow sip, eyes narrowing at the thought. Alessia. His only daughter, his precious little princ

Alessia Moretti The car ride back to the manor was suffocating. I sat in the backseat, arms crossed, my reflection in the tinted window barely recognizable. The wedding dress fitting had been a disaster. Not because of the dresses themselves, but because, for a fleeting second, I had let something unthinkable creep into my mind. I had almost felt like a bride. It made me sick. Nikolai sat beside me, annoyingly relaxed, as if today had been nothing more than another business deal. His phone was in his hand, thumb scrolling absently over the screen, but I knew he wasn’t really focused on it. He was watching me. Waiting. Predictable. “So,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or should I start guessing?” I didn’t bother turning my head. “You? Guessing? That’s a first.” His lips twitched. “Fine. Let’s see… You’re brooding, which isn’t unusual. But this is different. More dramatic.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please enlighten me, Dr. Vo

Nikolai Volkov If hell had a waiting room, I was fairly certain it would look exactly like this bridal boutique. Rows of white dresses lined the walls, each one a nauseatingly extravagant display of lace, pearls, and tulle. Chandeliers cast a soft glow over the showroom, reflecting off the floor-length mirrors that surrounded us on all sides. It smelled like vanilla and something sickeningly floral—probably whatever overpriced perfume they spritzed on the gowns to make them seem more magical. And right in the center of it all stood Alessia, arms crossed, face twisted in barely concealed irritation. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered, shifting her weight as she eyed the sea of dresses. “This whole thing is ridiculous.” From the plush armchair beside me, Stassie, her best friend, let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, come on, Alessia. It’s your wedding. You could at least pretend to be excited.” Alessia shot her a glare. “*It’s not my wedding. It’s my prison sentence.*” I smirked. “C