Novels by Beauty

Lily Daniels had gone to many fancy dinners, walked on red carpets in designer clothes, and enjoyed the love of wealthy people. But when the shiny black car stopped at a simple brick building in the center of the city, she became curious."This isn't a restaurant," she said, looking at Axel, who was sitting up beside her, completely calm.A little backtracking: The driver had gone to Axel’s company to pick him up.Axel smirked, his confidence maddening. "It's better than any restaurant."The driver opened her door, and Axel got out first, reaching back his hand to her. Lily waited just a moment, contemplating before putting her hand in his. The warmth of his hand made her feel a tingle up her arm."Where are we?" she asked, stepping onto the sidewalk. The building had no sign and no clue as to what was inside."You will see," Axel said, his voice quiet and playful.He escorted her through the doors, where a well-dressed concierge nodded at them. Lily's breath caught as they stepped in

Tomorrow arrived quicker than expected and Lily couldn’t contain her nerves.She stood in front of her mirror, smoothing the soft fabric of her emerald-green dress. It fit her perfectly, the neckline modest but with a hint of allure. She reached for a gold necklace and fastened it around her neck. Her hands shook slightly, and she told herself it was just the excitement of the evening.Axel afterall promised to blow her mind away and she couldn’t wait to see what he had instored for her, considering that he was the king of surprises. From the doorway, Kate leaned casually against the frame, her arms crossed and a teasing grin on her face. “So, you’re really going through with this?” Lily turned to face her, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘this’?” Kate stepped into the room, her heels clicking softly on the floor. Lily couldn’t help but notice the elegance Kate exuded especially since becoming a law student at a prestigious school.And honestly, she felt truly happy fo

One week later. . .The lights dimmed, and a soft golden glow bathed the runway as the final model made her way down the platform. Lily followed close behind, her gown flowing in perfect sync with her graceful strides. The crowd erupted into applause, the flash of cameras bright against the dusky backdrop. But Lily’s focus faltered for a heartbeat. In the front row, Axel sat among the elite, his sharp suit and relaxed posture making him stand out. His eyes weren’t on the models, the designs, or even the spectacle of the evening. They were on her. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and intense, like he could see right through the mask of confidence she wore. Like he was studying her.Lily’s breath caught, and she almost stumbled on her feet.Why did she feel so excited to be watched like a prey? She wondered, a gulp forcing down her throat. The pride in Axel’s expression was undeniable, but it was the hunger in his eyes that sent a ripple of warmth down Lily’s spine. She quickly loo

Axel woke to the dull throb of pain in his head and the uncomfortable tug of something taped to his hand. He blinked against the harsh light filtering into the room, his throat dry and scratchy. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, and he noticed the IV drip attached to his hand. The stark sterility of the room around him confirmed he wasn’t in his penthouse.Confused, he shifted and a groan escaped him. His muscles were stiff and his body sore.His head lolled to the side, and that was when he noticed her. Lily.She was sitting beside the bed, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. Her posture was tense, but her face was soft, almost hesitant. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, but her presence alone brought a sliver of warmth to his chest that he hadn’t felt in months.Of course she had to come. It had been two months since they saw one another, and when she got a call that he had collapsed in his penthouse, she just couldn’t stop herself from seeing him.“Lily?” Axel’s voice

Two months post-separation from Lily had been Axel’s nightmare. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t operate like a normal human being. He simply craved the one person who made him feel whole.His Lily. His little bird.She had been his breath of life. And then she left. And then darkness fell upon him again.A thick darkness he couldn’t find his way out of.He buried himself in work during the day and submerged himself in alcohol at night.Do you know what’s laughable? The fact that he couldn’t even manage his work anymore. He couldn’t run his empire. He was crashing from the inside out.And now, it was another night, and he had lost count of how many bottles he’d downed. His vision was already blurred, his words slurred, and the ache in his chest didn’t ease, no matter how much he drank.“Axel,” one of his closest friends grumbled, grabbing his arm, “we need to get you home, man. You’ve had enough for one night.”Axel chuckled darkly, pulling his arm free. “Enough?” he sl

The café was warm and busy, with the soft hum of chatter and the smell of fresh coffee in the air. Lily spotted her father immediately, sitting in his usual corner, sipping his coffee and scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.He looked relaxed, even smug. The sight of him so unbothered stirred something bitter in her chest.Of course she loved her father, but they just couldn’t see eye to eye on things sometimes. They had the same stubbornness.She strode over, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. He looked up when she reached the table, a small smirk forming on his lips.“How nice it must be, Dad. You move through life like a king, breaking things and people, and never looking back.” Lily said, her voice sassy as she settled into the seat opposite him.Ignoring her sarcastic remark, Lily’s father threw his head back, laughter, low in his throat eliciting. “It’s been a few days, and you miss me already, kiddo?” he said, his tone light and teasin

Hello guys, we have finally come to the end of the story between Ginevra Rodriguez and Ricardo Sanchez.Like I said at the beginning of this book—the TW—this book is not your traditional romance; therefore the end is justifiable.Their love wasn’t built upon truth and transparency. Ginevra lured Ricardo in because she had a mission, and Ricardo had lied to Ginevra from the first day they met.The both of them got off from hurting each other, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. And no level of love could ever salvage such wickedness.I love love, and I love the concept of love—because it’s a beautiful emotion. But sometimes, love has to be shut off to get things done.There was no way I’d let Ginevra go through so much in her life for this one mission to wipe out the Sanchez’s only for her to change her mind because of love.Never!First, the love was shitty. Second, she had come a long way for something like love to deter her.When I first completed this book, both Ginevra and

GINEVRA In my last moments when Izzy begged me to have a rethink, my eyes zeroed in on Raul who had a stoic expression, but ropes of tears were untamed against his trembling cheeks. Dominico was not a man who hid his emotions; therefore, he was sitting on the bare floor, his eyes bloodshot red from all the tears he had cried. Paulo who was in a way my support system. . .he was crumbling. There wasn't a word enough to describe the pain his features held. Harley who was a mess. I wouldn't have ever imagined a day when Harley opened herself up to me in this manner. Everyone who loved me stood before me but there were two people whom I loved, and yet, they weren't there. My son and my husband. If ever I was given an opportunity to speak to Ricardo one more time, what was I going to say? "Ricardo, I'm standing by the edge and my only wish is to see your ghost, to hold your hand one last time. Because I'm running wild and the thought of you tears me apart. My heart is broken, my leg

IZZY GONZALES As we drove through the private road, my mind had drifted to Ginevra. She had always made it a point to stay locked up in her room this past week, but this morning, she had suddenly joined us for breakfast. She made jokes and laughed a little too hard. I found it suspicious. She wasn’t the type to make those kind of jokes and wasn't she supposed to be depressed? She had just murdered the love of her life and she was making jokes? Something had to give. I cleared my throat. "Did anyone notice something suspicious about Ginevra this morning?" They all hummed. "She was all over the place and I caught her looking at us like it was the last time she'd ever see us." Raul spoke. "And when I went into her room, I saw some droplets of blood. She was even in a white dress and was styling her hair to look like a princess." Paulo added. "Ginevra doesn't like white dresses and she hated it even more after her marriage to Ricardo crumbled." Harley commented. White dress, styl

GINEVRA Another day of restlessness, another day of pain, another day of anguish, another day of regret, and another day of nightmares. I jolted out of bed with a wince and a painful ringing in my head. I was sweating profusely and I felt so damp between my legs. This was the first time I had been able to shut my eyes in one hundred and sixty eight hours and I couldn't even do it peacefully. Just as I was about to grumble, a scream tore out of my throat at the pain that coursed through my bones. I wasn't bothered. I was already used to being in constant physical pain since the day I made the biggest mistake of my life. One might think that all I had to do was cry, except, I hadn't been able to cry. I searched for that softness, and yet, I couldn't find it. And the only thing that gave me the confirmation that I was human after all, was the physical pain that would engulf every part of my body, limb to limb, every second of the day. And night. My pregnancy suddenly had suddenly g

THIRD PERSON The beautiful woman walked silently, tiredly, and defeatedly into the car that was waiting for her outside. She was drenched in blood. In the blood of her lover, in the blood of her husband and in the blood of her baby's father. And in her hands were his eyes. How could she do this? She wondered. What was going through her mind when she agreed to take his eyes? What was going through her mind when she decided that the best option was to kill her own lover? Her eyes were continuously darkening by a fraction with each passing second until she was completely overtook by the darkness that loomed. She sat in the car and her friends stared at her like she was a maniac. She paid no attention to them as her eyes were focused on those eyes she fell in love with. She was looking at them in awe as well as in disgust. She was immediately handed the tab that displayed the video footage of the man she loved as he sobbed and begged to be graced with her presence even for a minute

RICARDO What was this feeling? Why was this happening to me? Why did I have to be born into the clan of monsters? Why did I feel betrayed by the woman I loved? Questions after questions plagued me as my woman sobbed against my laps. My Ginevra, my love, my life, my treasure, the light in my life, the bane of my existence, my girl, my woman. . .my wife. Learning that my father had taken away a better part of her broke me into unimaginable pieces and I didn't want her to pardon me. I wanted her to walk out of here knowing that she didn't dedicate her life for this just so she could fail. I loved her, and she loved me, but I couldn't let her fail just because of love. What had love done to us? What had that stupid emotion done for us? It did nothing but strip us of our existence. It hurt and ruined us in ways that were despicable, so, why would she fail because of that? I had to rile her up in some way and I knew that a few harsh words could do the trick. I knew how she had litt

Mariana’s PovI sprint down the stairs, my breath ragged and uneven. Each step feels like a countdown, a drumbeat driving me toward the only place I know will give me answers. My fingers skim the banister for balance, but it does little to steady me. The house feels colder than usual, the air thicker, pressing against me like a warning. I push through it. My heart pounds louder with every step, drowning out the sound of my underfoot padding violently against the floor. When I reach the bottom, I pause, just for a second, leaning on the wall to catch my breath.I screech, my fist colliding against my chest. My lungs are burning, my chest constricting so much I can barely breathe. And I cannot tell if it’s the pain I feel inside or the physical pain, but I just know I’m so much pain.It’s eating away at me.My knees almost give out on me and I almost stumble, but I feel firm hands hold me up. I don’t need to look to know who it is. Alejandro.“Mariana. . .” he breathes.“You lied to

Mariana’s PovI’m standing in front of the large mirror in my bathroom, shirt and pants discarded, the only thing remaining on me the gauze used to wrap me up like I’m some fucking gift.I twist my torso from side to side, a groan, strained with pain tumbling out of my throat. And then I reach for the end of the gauze and tug, slowly unwrapping it from around my ribs.The doctors say it’s taking too long for me to fully recover because I was drugged up way too much, and the drugs are showing too much resistance to their treatment plan.But I’m showing great improvement, that I’m sure of.As I unwrap the gauze from around me, I whimper in pain and my hand falls on the counter edge, gripping tight. Just then, I feel another hand on me, soft. My eyes snap to the mirror and they widen.Fuck!“You’re still in pain, Mariana,” he says simply, his eyes refusing to meet mine. “You shouldn’t strain yourself.”“And you?” I ask the question before my mind can even register it.Only then did his e

Mariana’s PovOne month later. . .I drive my fist into the punching bag and the leather strains, the chains holding it rattling right after, but not as loud as my grunt. The rattle of the chain reminds me of the torture I endured as Radimr’s captive and a grunt erupts in my throat again, this time filled with rage.My fist drives into the punching bag again, and again, and again. I can’t stop myself. There’s too much anger and repressed rage inside of me. But the doctors say I still need some time to recover.As if one month of unconsciousness and another month of being unable to use my limbs isn’t enough.“You’ll hurt yourself if you keep going too hard. . .”And then there’s the nagging Alejandro, who thinks himself my caretaker. He’s just always rambling my ears off about how I should take it easy.For an aggressive man like him, he sure knows how to exude calmness.Huffing out a breath, I shoot him a glare and turn on my heels as I slip off my boxing gloves.Truth is, I haven’t e

Alejandro’s PovOne month later.And a few days more.The soft scrape of the sponge against her skin feels louder in the silence of the room. I squeeze it over the bowl, watching the water drip, clear and warm, before I run it along her arm. Her skin feels cold, so much colder than it should, and it makes something sharp twist in my chest. Thirty-four days. That’s how long it’s been since she closed her eyes and never opened them again. That’s how long it has been since her body went into shock. That’s how long it’s been since the doctors blabbered about the drugs in her system, the ones her husband tortured her with, the ones capable of rendering a human being to nothing.It’s laughable how it’s the same torture drugs her mother produces that was used to torture her.So, here we are, thirty four days later.Thirty-four days of waiting, hoping, praying, cursing the heavens and everything in between. I keep my hands steady, moving the sponge gently over her wrist. She’s lost weight

Alejandro’s PovHours has passed, and yet, I hear nothing. We hear nothing from the doctors.Her mother and father, Don Matteo and his wife are seated by my side, both of them maintaining silence, and yet, their pain is radiating evidently.Mirabella Denaro has her hands in her hair, her eyes red at the rims, her skin trembling. She feels more guilt than pain. And I know because I’ve come to find out that it was her idea to push forward with Mariana’s and Radimr’s wedding.A mission.One that has taken both her children from her.There’s no coming back from this.And then there’s Don Matteo. He’s enraged, angry, unable to console his wife because all of this has strained their relationship so much it’ll take a miracle for him to forgive his wife. And then there’s me. I have no explanation.A door clicks open, I jump to my feet, watching as two men in scrubs approach. They bow slightly to Don Matteo before one of them starts speaking.The words coming out of the doctor’s mouth blur in

Alejandro’s PovThe space still echo with the sound of her sobs and whimpers. It’s so loud and so taunting. I hold her closer, hug her tighter, hold myself back from falling apart as well.She fights to get out of my embrace, but I hold her tighter. I don’t want to leave her alone.Her sobs louden, tearing through the silence, echoing over and over and over. It’s deafening, relentless, like they’re reverberating inside my chest, shaking the fragile hold I have on myself. And I can’t tell if she’s crying from the physical pain, or because she’s relieved, or because she hates me, yet I hold her tighter, my arms like steel bands around her trembling frame, and bury my face in her hair. I look back to see if her parents are still standing behind us. They’re not. They’ve given us the much needed privacy.“Please,” I whisper, though I don’t even know what I’m asking for. For her to stop crying? For her to keep holding on? For the pain clawing at us both to somehow end? She squirms in m

Angioletto's PovWhen I return to the penthouse a little after noon, the soft laughter of my Oceane is the first sound that graces my ears.I stand by the door, watching her in awe while she plays around with her kitten.“Angel, you’re so hyperactive.” She coos, scooping the purring kitten into her arms.How can anyone accuse this innocent girl of a crime as grave as murder?How can anyone look at that angelic face and think evil of it?It’s all but a wonder in my mind.A smile pulling at the corners of my lips, I make a move to approach her. Two steps into the room and my feet force me to a stop when Oceane’s head cranes backwards, her eyes meeting mine.My brows pull into a furrow, my eyes moving around her delicate, yet, dented features. Regret pulls at the strings of my heart. My marks—the effects of my fist are still visible against her skin, leaving a part of her face swollen and her neck reddened.My lips pull apart, a sharp exhale escaping through the space as I give my head a

Angioletto's PovForty eight hours later.The calendar says Friday, the time reads 9:30 post meridiem. The birds and beasts of the night are at their loudest tonight, but the loudness of the organ in my chest is incomparable.I know tonight will be a long night.Whistling, I walk into the cell, a huge grin stretched across my lips when my eyes land on my newest victim. A friend. A brother. Rodrigo.I tsk. “Look who’s wide awake. Have you been anticipating my visit, my dear brother?”“Why’re you doing this to me, Angel?” Rodrigo sneers, “why aren’t you torturing me? Kill me already! Hit me if that’s what it’ll take! Do something!”“And what fun will that be?”A furrow pulls his brows, his lips sliding apart slightly. “Angel. . .”“Do you recall when you and I were so obsessed with the art of reading cards?” I ask, smiling a downturned smile. “Well, I pulled two cards today. The fool, and the wheel. Now Rodrigo, I wouldn’t want to call it the wheel of fortune just yet. Because whether i

Angioletto's PovReluctantly walking into my penthouse, my roaming eyes land on Oceane, standing at the foot of the stairs, a smile etched at the corners of her lips, her eyes filled with so much unexplained happiness.What has got her so happy? The demon in my head whispers. The demon who has done nothing but whisper and awake evil in me, blaming Oceane for the recent disrespect and betrayal I’ve had to face from my most trusted man.The demon who hates to see Oceane happy.The demon which controls my life’s actions.“Good morning, Gio.” Oceane beams. I hum a response while throwing my key on the kitchen island.She clears her throat and begins motioning toward me in slow, sultry steps. “Have you had something to eat? I joined the cook to make breakfast this morning and I’m certain you’ll like it.”Amusement. My heart flutters in amusement, yet, I conceal it with a stoic expression. I look down at her, and our eyes connect for a brief second before I’m scanning her head to toe.Tha

Angioletto's PovDarkness is still paramount, and yet, I am awake—wide eyed awake.The calendar says Wednesday, the time reads 5am, the birds sing a beautiful morning song, and my heart sings a bloody song.Torture is my forte.I say I have no heart, and yet, when I’m tasked with the duty to torture offenders, I feel that dead organ of mine palpitating ridiculously.I love the thrill, and the mess.And in this moment, when I walk into the holding cell and my eyes land on the soldier who’s restrained to an iron chair, I feel a rush of blood in my veins.I am finally breathing.Walking to the end of the large room, I pull another iron chair with me, the legs scraping across the roughly plastered floor. And when I’m in front of the restrained soldier, I finally stop, throwing myself on the seat with a sigh.We stay silent—the soldier and I. It’s in

Angioletto's PovSilence is power.In silence, I hide the ultimate violence that brews within me, letting it mature in a place of solitary. My silence is a sound so unique.My silence are unsaid words that can only be felt—sometimes, felt rightly. Sometimes, felt wrongly. A language of the soul.Sitting in the silence of my living room, my mind drifts back to the time when I was sworn in as a made man. The time when my identity as Angioletto Luoni, the grim reaper—a specially trained assassin of the Luoni crime family was revealed.Although built like a huge, thick wall, it was my silence that unnerved people the most. With my eyes, clouded by darkness, my lips pursed in contemplation, and my brows quirked in wonder, soldiers who trained under my command, and other made men—women included—began to fear me.My silence brought about confusion.With confusion came the need for clarity—to seek out answers. And when those answers remained a mystery, fear creeped in. The fear of not knowing

Angioletto's PovI’m silent. I’m still startled by both her outburst and her declaration.It’s true. I’ve always known the unmistakable fiery rage that brews within Oceane, a rage that might swallow her hole, a rage that is beginning to swallow her hole. But I never thought even for a split second that her rage will manifest merely because of my absence.She likes me.My lips almost tip up at the corners from amusement. Satisfaction. Almost because I’m supposed to be aggravated with her. I’m supposed to be devising ways to punish her for bringing harm to one of my men—no one dares lay a finger on my men except me. Except I permit it.But, here I am, ready to forgive her, ready to praise her for her heartlessness. My devotion to Oceane is deadly.She likes me.Perhaps I like her too. But not in the cute way she’s picturing it. I like her so much that all I want to do is curl my fingers around her neck and choke her until she’s passed out.I like her so much that I want to prickle her