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...Because I have two new stories coming your way!

My newest story coming up is THE BEAST OF NAPA. This is a non-ff story, but I hope you like it! It's a mix of Beauty and the Beast and The Great Gatsby, with a more classical writing style. I wanted it to read like an old black and white movie. This will be a new writing style for me, so I'm excited and nervous to share it with you. THE BEAST OF NAPA will start in April!

My second story coming up is GODS OF THE SEA, a BTS vocal line FF.

GODS OF THE SEA will be like THE 7 PRINCES and THE REBELLION, with multiple endings and a His POV Series.

GODS OF THE SEA will start a little bit after THE BEAST OF NAPA. But it's coming soon. Don't worry! 

Now that THE REBELLION has been completed, and I'd like to give you a preview of my next work, THE BEAST OF NAPA.



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THE BEAST OF NAPA PREVIEW

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They said he only wore black and gold because it showed both his darkness and his wealth. His family name was Griffin, but no one knew his first name. No one could get close enough to find out.

But that didn't stop them from trying.

A heavy purse made any man attractive, and Griffin was no exception. It wasn't that he was bad to look at. In fact, his strong shoulders and crystal-blue eyes made him a much sought-after bachelor; but his demeanor and his profession had been the subject of gossip and slander, to the point that many didn't risk association with him.

Except, of course, on the last day of the month.

It was the only time Griffin came to town. He had no interest in mingling with townsfolk, no interest in forging a smile to make a sale. He would have rather spent his time at his family vineyard in the countryside, regardless of the fact that half his staff wasn't thrilled to work for him. But owning a business required the periodic trip to the bank, and since Griffin trusted no one - and no one wanted to assist him anyways - he ran the errand himself.

So today, Griffin was in town.

He stepped out of the bank and into the warm autumn sun, bracing himself to be solicited by businessmen, charities, churches, and - of course - women who felt like they needed a wealthy husband.

Today, that woman's name was Sara.

"Have you a dime?" she asked, her mouth smudged with cheap lipstick.

He straightened his jacket cuffs in disinterest. "I have enough dimes for a hundred dollar bill, but you knew that already."

He noticed her eyes light up at the notion.

"Why, is that your fancy car waiting over here?" she asked dramatically, her acting skills far less impressive than the women who had tried this sort of thing before. "I was wondering if we had a celebrity visiting our little California town with that car's gorgeous shine."

"That shine is nothing more than a trick of the eyes -- a little sun and grooming can make anything look better than it is." His eyes grazed her gaudy, lop-sided dress, and he raised an eyebrow. "You might follow that example if you have the time."

Griffin began to step away, but the woman's hand wrapped around his bicep to stop him. He ruffled his lips, turning to her.

"I was wondering if you could help me with a small problem, good sir."

"Doubtful," he muttered to himself.

"You see, I was trying to get back home. My dear sister is waiting for me - she's sick, you see - and it seems my shoes have completely worn out."

She pointed at her feet, showcasing a pair of sandals that had been obviously cut. He laughed to himself, impressed by the dedication, then looked up at the sky, nodding in thought.

"Well, today seems to be your lucky day, Miss," he replied.

Her smile widened in anticipation as she wrapped her arm around his. He slid out of her hold, pointing to the sky.

"With such a beautiful autumn day, you can walk barefoot anywhere you please."

He attempted to walk away again, but she tightened her grip on his jacket. He huffed, not attempting to disguise his impatience.

"I wouldn't be asking something for nothing, you know," Sara continued. "Is there something you might be interested in?"

As she snuggled up to him and gave a suggestive glance, he smiled and dipped his lips next to her ear.

"I want... something that's worth a fortune."

He plucked her hand from his jacket and looked at the tips of her fingers.

"But it seems to me," he continued, "that these fingers would only get my money dirty. It must be from all those gentlemen you meet on the corners."

Her jaw and her act both dropped. "How dare you--"

She lifted her hand to slap him, but he only swatted her arm away with a sigh.

"Go back to the men who pay to see you nightly," he said. "I'm sure they can give you the type of ride you women fancy."

He pulled the silk handkerchief from his pocket and brushed the sleeve of his jacket where she had touched it. With a fake smile and a curt nod, he stepped away.

"Hey!" she yelled after him as he walked away. "You think you can treat a woman however you please because you have a lot of money?"

He walked down the stairs of the bank, meeting his chauffeur at the end of the steps. He turned back to Sara as his chauffeur opened the passenger door to his Rolls Royce.

"No, Miss," he replied. "The reason I have a lot of money is because I know the women worth treating."

He got into the car, nodding to his driver.

"Home," he said. "Before I have to deal with any more city garbage."

His driver nodded, leaving the city to return to Griffin's countryside estates. Griffin leaned his elbow against the window, looking out on the city and people that he wouldn't see again for another month.

They hadn't changed much. In reality, neither had he.

Griffin's vineyards were as grand as they were intimidating. Brass gates creaked open as the car rolled in, the long stretch of stone pavement being Griffin's path back into solitude and sanity. The trees around the path had begun to yellow, not quite ready for autumn, but not holding any more interest in summer.

The car came to a stop, in front of a lavish two-story stone home, decorated with roses, morning glories, and tulips. It was seemingly ageless even though it was four generations old. His anxiety from the city washed away at the sight of it, and he suddenly felt like he could breathe again.

He stepped from the car to his front door, his healed spirits dropping at the sight of the frown of his head maid.

"Are you that upset to see me, Mrs. Greene?" he asked her.

She shook her head, white curls bouncing around her face. "I'm always happy to see you, Mr. Griffin. But I'm afraid you won't be happy to see what's happening in your own backyard."

Frowning deeper, he stepped through the house and out of the kitchen, opening the door to his vineyards on the other side. To his relief, there was no visible damage to any of the vines. They stretched out as far as the eye could see, their grapes ripe and ready for harvest.

The problem was that the harvesters were on his porch, and not in their places in the vines.

The men - seven, Griffin counted, meaning that six were missing - were standing on his back porch, faces stern and cold. Some had their arms crossed. Others held their heads up in an arrogant disrespect.

Griffin rolled his eyes. "Is this a strike?"

His main harvester - Harold, as he recalled - stepped forward. "If it were, what would you say to it?"

"You never answer my questions," Griffin replied. "Be direct."

The man glanced at the others before speaking again, clearing his throat. "It seems the wages in the city have been raised a considerable amount in the last couple of years. Yet, ours have stayed the same. Don't you think it unfair?"

The others grumbled in agreement.

"We think it's time you considered higher wages for your workers," Harold added.

"Higher wages?" Griffin repeated.

The man nodded. "We work from the early morning to the late evening, taking care of your fortune and your future, and you pay us only for half a day. The beggars in town some days brag about how much more they get."

"Is your complaint money then?" Griffin returned. "Regardless of your free residence on my property?"

"It isn't fair to make a man work for an entire day and only pay him for half."

Griffin nodded. "I agree. That's why I only pay you for what you work. I don't pay you for when you gentlemen fool around with the maids, or when you have a three-hour liquid lunch in the middle of the afternoon."

Harold's eyes flickered.

"What?" Griffin replied, smirking. "You thought I didn't know about all that?"

The man's eyes darted around quickly before settling back on Griffin. "We work to the bone taking care of your vineyards; raising the grapes, trimming the vines, harvesting the spoils. You aren't anywhere near the fields, yet somehow live off the money that comes in from our work."

Griffin cocked his head to the side. "Is that what you think?"

They all nodded.

"Quit if you like then," Griffin said, shrugging.

Some of the men's jaws dropped at the answer.

"That's it, then?" Harold asked. "You won't even defend yourself?"

"And why should I defend myself on my own property?" he asked, still showing no sign of remorse. "I offered to pay you for your work, you agreed, and I did so. Don't complain to me about what you agreed to."

The men grumbled to themselves, some clenching their fists and bouncing their shoulders in anger. Griffin watched their show, uninterested.

"You think you can run these vines without us?" Harold asked. "Do you think your success could exist without us? The government has it out for people like you, Mr. Griffin. You won't get far selling the devil's drink."

Griffin stared at them, his eyes nothing but ice.

"So be it," Harold said. "But mark my words, you won't get off so easy. We'll get what's due to us. Be sure about that."

He waved for the men to follow him, and so they did. They stormed away as Mrs. Greene came up behind Griffin, wringing her hands.

"Not again..." she whispered to herself.

Griffin took off his jacket and handed it to her. "Don't worry, Mrs. Greene. It's a minor setback, but nothing we can't handle."

"Half your men just quit on you and you call it a setback? Did you smoke cocaine when you went to the city?"

He gave a genuine smile, patting her shoulder. "I don't smoke cocaine, Mrs. Greene. Leave it to me. I've fallen further and risen higher."

She clicked her tongue in disapproval, folding his coat over her forearm with a huff. "One day you'll get too close to the sun, Icuras."

"Then at least my final fall will be the most glorious of them all," he replied.

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COMING SOON!

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net