Ava Gray Books Novels & Stories

The only thing I like about Gray’s office is that it’s filled with books. Big, thick books bound in leather, with gilt-edged pages, texts on war and military theory, encyclopedic tomes on world history, classic literature, poetry. But it’s not a library collected after a lifetime of reading. It is a library that has been purchased for show - Drew’s idea of which books should line the shelves of a military man’s office. He has a similar collection in his own office. Most of the books have never even been opened, eyes have never rested on their words, fingers have never caressed their pages. They are as untouched and virginal as nuns.

Some time later, the sound of heels echoed on the marble floors of the central area where her boss's office was located. Without pausing her stride, Ava pursed her lips as she felt the pencil skirt hugging her curvy behind. Alice had gone to modify the only uniform they had given her, knowing well that they were trying to make her quit. However, neither they nor the rest of the hotel knew who Ava Elizabeth Gray was.

Gavin nods briskly, like this is a clean-cut business transaction, and I suppose that’s the way it needs to be because some things are simply too horrible and strange and must be held at a safe, dispassionate distance. Well, hell. I’m already thinking like everyone else in this town, aren’t I? Gavin looks down at that large, black leather-bound book and pats it. “I really don’t know how much I can tell you, but I do know that everything changed about a year ago when we first met. I’d still been drinking pretty heavily, when . . . ” He sighs and pushes the book toward me. “Go ahead,” he whispers. “Read it yourself.”

I hear him murmur. Heart in my throat, I turn the knob and wander in. Grayson sits behind his desk, pen between his fingers at he writes on a piece of paper. He looks up when I close the door behind me, the most prominent specks of silver glinting in his eyes as he caught my gaze. His office is impressive. More impressive than mine back at home. Is it even my home anymore? "I know," I say, although my voice comes out breathless and hoarse. Grayson's eyebrows furrow together in confusion, not knowing what I am talking about. I force my eyes to the ground.

“It doesn't seem like it if she said I kind of look like him. Is he my father?” “No.” She said. “Like I said it was just a fling she had.” Jade decided it was best not to press the matter anymore, she went back to looking through the books on the shelf. She found one she liked, titled “Legends of Hewsen Era.” “Can I have this one?” Jade said flashing the book cover to Darla. Darla looked at the book and shook her head. “You're not going to let the legend go, are you?”

I asked. "I was actually heading out to meet Gray." I noticed how Georgia had a large, old, brown leather book tucked under her arm. She seemed uncertain as to whether she wanted to go through with whatever she had come to tell me. "Oh, it's nothing. Just something silly I found." "Mind showing me?" I stepped closer to her. The scent of fresh grass after rain filled my nose, and I wanted more than anything to hold her close to me. Her breath hitched a little at my close proximity, and slowly her eyes looked up into mine.

Just as Gia was about to step toward the bed, Raven's overly cheerful tone triggered her suspicions. "That man is more than just sly, Gia!" She thought to herself as she turned her steps toward him. "On the second row from the top left shelf, you’ll see a blue book titled 'If Tomorrow Comes.' Take it and read it to me," Raven said. "Like a bedtime story?" Raven’s request was far from what Gia expected. She moved toward the shelf to grab the book. "You could consider it like that if you want. But it's not a storybook. A friend of mine wrote it. I promised to read it a while ago, but circumstances delayed that."

“I had it handled.” Gray smirks, dropping his hand from his neck and giving me a once-over. “Yeah, I’m sure you did,” he breathes. “Though a simple thank you would suffice.” He folds his arms and tips his chin up, looking cocky as ever. His arrogance is so irritating. I scrunch up my nose, scowling. “Thanks for what? Stalking me?” Gray’s jaw twitches, and flecks of gold start swirling in his eyes. Got him.

CHAPTER 8 The Son Who Forgot His Mother’s Voice POV: Elara The triumph from the boardroom felt like a cold, thin sheet of ice. It looked solid, but I was falling through it. I walked toward the family wing, my lungs rattling with every step. I didn't need a boardroom to feel powerful; I needed my son to look at me without that glint of predatory judgment. I found Arlo in the library, surrounded by old pack scrolls. He was trying to read the ancient Runes, his small brow furrowed in frustration.

Greenfield boldly inscribed beneath, everything up unto this moment felt too predictable and strangely insipid. Inside wasn't any better: the cold AC; black TV screen; the bookshelf that occupied the greater part of the right sage green wall, containing things on psychology, philosophy, and books on the human mind. He could even spot Ben Carson's "Think Big" written across the spine of one of the books. There was a large portrait of he, his ex wife, and his daughters anchored to the side of the shelf. They looked happy with their brooding smiles that stretches the jaw, silver teeth and a calmness from their posture...they were too happy even, only that in Aaron's head, happiness was relative