Author Genevieve Graham Novels & Stories

Regardless of whether that something is retouching my messed up relationship with Liam, I can't tell. "Committee, do you truly not recall her?" Elijah makes some noise, interfering with the exchange of the others. "It was a couple of years prior that you thought about her as an Up-and-comer." All development stops in the room, even time appears to end. "Unquestionably... you don't imply that she is the one that kicked the bucket under your consideration," Genevieve blasts. "Indeed, I was alloted to her. I was there when she passed on in a fender bender. In any case, I was likewise there when she reawakened, with eyes of radiant green, crying about a dull animal that turned her dad's eyes red

The uncertainty clawed at me, but then her voice, soft but firm, came through. “Ophelia? Is everything okay?” I leaned back in my chair, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about our last conversation. I wanted to reach out, and see if we could talk.” There was a pause, just long enough for me to feel the weight of the silence. “Talk? About what, exactly?” I knew I had to tread carefully. Genevieve wasn’t just anyone. She was Aaron’s sister, and though she was confined to a wheelchair, she was no less powerful in the world Aaron inhabited. If anything, she held an influence in her own right.

She looked little to nothing like him and the lady who just walked in was a copy-and-paste version of her father. The lady stepped forward, bowing her head before them. “Hello everyone, sorry for interrupting your meal. I’m Genevieve Brent Gray.” “What is your name again?” Mr Gray rose from the chair followed by everyone else. They stood, frozen in shock. “Genevieve Brent Gray.” Noah groaned. “Say that name again and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to say a word in your whole life.” “I’m sorry, you are?” She looked him over, her eyes glinting at his sight. “Oh Mr Hank, you’re here.”

“We don’t steal recipes, honey. We acquire.” Before Rory could react, Genevieve swept in from the back like a choir solo—earrings, floral wrap dress, and a smile that could broker a truce or a war. “Well, if it isn’t the du Prée delegation. I’m Genevieve St. James, resident truth-teller and part-time hurricane.” Mabel grinned. “pardon me”— I’ve heard about you.” “And You’ll definitely hear more if you stay for pie,” Genevieve replied. “and You must be the mother.”

Aurora giggled and slipped inside her room, leaving me in the hall with Genevieve. "Good night, prince," she said curtly. Genevieve was the only woman I'd ever met who didn't fall all over herself in my presence. Whatever it was about me that made women blush and giggle, she didn't fall prey to it at all. She regarded me with a stone-faced expression from the moment I met her. She was stunningly beautiful, fit, and had an air of mystery about her that had my attention. I wanted to know everything about her and I'd only met her today.

Mother gave me a nod which meant for me to go ahead; if only she knew what I was planning. “Good evening everyone, I would like you all to know some few things happening tonight,” I said, avoiding my parents' gaze at all costs. I wasn’t going to let them push me into doing something that wasn’t my fault. Dahlia stole her sister's fiancé and that is a crime frowned on. “As you all know, I’m Genevieve Parker, daughter of Mr and Mrs Martin Parker. I’m their eldest who is supposed to get engaged tonight but due to some unfortunate circumstances that isn’t going to hold,” I looked at everyone and smiled when they started whispering.

Inside lay an elegant wristwatch. It was the wedding gift she had secretly bought for Damon weeks ago. She smiled faintly before closing the lid again. Her gaze drifted toward the passing traffic.Then slowly, almost absentmindedly, she picked up her phone once more. Her thumb hovered over the screen. She scrolled through her contacts. Past actresses, actors, directors, managers and family. . Until one name stopped her. Ethan Brooks Damon Executive and personal assistant. Genevieve stared at the name for a long time. Then a slow smile spread across her face. She had spent enough years in front of cameras to know that everyone had a price.

Celeste gestured for her to an empty seat while she sat at the head of the table. Genevieve sat, keeping her back straight and her expression neutral, though every instinct in her screamed at her to run. “She came,” one of them murmured, voice clipped. “Didn’t think she’d have the spine.” “Shut it, Harper,” another said sharply. Harper. Genevieve’s gaze snapped towards her. Harper was strikingly beautiful. She had shoulder-length auburn hair and eyes that looked like they had seen a hundred betrayals. She sat with her arms crossed.

“I haven’t seen you in the North Wing.” “I’m just doing laundry, My Lady” I whispered. She reached out with one finger and lifted my chin. I bit my tongue to stop from flinching. Her eyes were like ice, searching mine. For a second I thought the shadows would jump out and give me away—they were itching under my skin, ready to lash. “You’re a clumsy little thing,” Genevieve said. Her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “But you have steady eyes. Good. I need a new personal maid. The one I brought from the North is useless and too slow.”

Genevieve raised her shoulders proudly. Marley inched close, attaching their lips in a deep kiss. The clearing of throats interrupted them as Kimmy and Acosta entered with Peach who's holding her teddy. They settled around the table too. Kimmy made sure Peach sat beside Genevieve on the table. "Hey, grandbaby," Genevieve stroked her hair slowly. Peach hid her shaky hands under her teddy bear before smiling warily. "Grams, Granps, I...I got full marks in my math tests today again."