Blake Paradis Novels & Stories

The other sign from her friend: I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES, BLAKE! Blake is my fourteen-year-old brother. My shoulders square, but I try to brush that sign off without a long thought. Perth resumes texting again. I lean forward. Still not able to see his screen. “Hot date?” I ask. Perth quickly says, “No.” Then he removes his elbows off the counter. Sitting up. “It’s Madison.” Madison Haynes. My nineteen-year-old cousin.

I yelled. “Tara...” His eyebrows knitted, staring at the timer in the smartphone. “I’m serious, Blake. Who are you?” My nostrils flared as I screamed in anger. “I’m Blake... Brian Blake Williamson, and I’m sorry for lying to you, Tara. When you told me you hate rich people, I didn’t have the courage to tell you who I really was. I was scared you will run away...” He shut his eyes tight. “Tara, please, let’s talk. I... I...”

I rubbed my lip, looking at her, wondering what Meredith saw in her. "Max. Max!" Meredith yelled, and my eyes moved to settle on her. "Hmm?" I answered. "Blake was asking if you had any more wine," she said. "The hostess will be back with some shortly," I gestured to the air hostess to go get some. "So, Blake, what do you do for a living? I know who your dad is, but who are you." "I guess you can say I'm an artist," she giggled. "I love to paint and draw. What can I say? I'm an artistic soul."

“The man is practically a legend now. Imagine how much more iconic the campaign would be if he were behind the camera.” I could practically hear Blake grinding her teeth. “Chris is… difficult to book,” Blake said carefully. “And also not part of this campaign.” Jade sighed dramatically. “What a tragedy. If only someone had planned ahead.” Blake’s lips pursed as she swirled her wine in her glass. “Well, what’s done is done,” she continued, sighing as if she were making the biggest sacrifice. “I just hope the edits can make up for it.” Blake took a long, long sip of her wine.

He clearly regretted letting his prize slip away before he’d fully broken it. "The past is a different country, Blake," I said, my voice like dry ice. "Tastes evolve. Just look at yours." The jab hit home. Everyone in the pack knew his current flame, Talia Brooks, was a sharp-edged downgrade from a Mercer. Blake had been drowning his ego in whiskey lately, haunted by the whispers that he’d traded a diamond for a shard of glass. "Ivy, maybe you haven't heard," Blake said, trying to regain the lead. "Talia had a... complication. The pregnancy is over."

Damien turned, eyes dimming as he saw Pa Blake himself taking the stage. A respectful silence fell in the room. “Tonight marks a generational shift…” The man’s voice rang clear across the hall, steeped in ceremony. He spoke of legacy, honor, and history for the first few minutes… and then, at the end of the speech came the grand, unexpected announcement. “…and it’s time to take a step back… and introduce the new president of Blake Group International in the person of my amiable grandson, Caden Blake.” This was received with thunderous applause, but Damien didn’t clap. Instead, he turned sharply again toward Isla.

is his perspective in life. Before, he is contented by what we have. But his ambitions grew and grew that even in the illegal ways he wants to achieve it. And I know it is wrong. He was just changed by drugs and money. It made him an evil person. When he lost the billions of money, he was so devastated. He felt like he failed himself, and us. Yes, he still thinks of us even when he knows that we don’t have that kind of relation to him anymore. Not as close as before. Do you know that unexpected big partnerships with you that are made by the biggest businessmen? He made that. He made them invest in your company. In our companies. And when he found out that we are the ones who caused him that

One would shiver after hearing her voice. Blake hesitated for a long while. Finally, he gathered his courage and asked, “Madam, I have a question that’s been troubling me for a long while. Who’s Wynn Johnston’s husband, Philip Clarke? I asked my people to investigate him and he’s just a normal good-for-nothing. However, I keep feeling that he’s not that simple. Plus, I think I saw him somewhere before.” Giada looked at Blake frigidly and said, “Don’t ask what you shouldn’t ask. Just focus on your own things.”

He doesn't care about this feud, he just wants to satisfy his stomach. "I heard that it's closing down," I reply, still furious. As far as I know, Dylan's gone bankrupt. I guess it's 'cause his number one customer is in New York now. Aqueela kept him in business. "You're a real buzzkill, you know?" Max shakes his head at me despite my words being true. "You just don't want to see Bex, right?" Bell asks quietly, aware of my thoughts. "What do you think?" I retort cockily. "Of course, I don't want to see that revolting invalid."

I decide to drive my bike, so I grab my helmet and keys and leave the house. After following the directions on my GPS to Patricia's, I pull up to her condo in fifteen minutes, and she is waiting outside. She looks even hotter out of her khaki work uniform. She is wearing a black lace camisole, light blue distressed jeans that hug tightly around her lean, long legs, and a pair of black heeled boots. Her blonde hair lays flat, reaching just above her tailbone and her makeup is done, a green smokey color, making her green eyes look small. "Hey, Crayvin," she greets shyly when I walk up to her.