Caleb Gordon Merch Novels & Stories

“Because it’ll throw him off—and I live for that.” Caleb stands near a high-top table with a group of people who look like they own the city. He’s in a crisp dark button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled just enough to show off his forearms, tailored charcoal pants that hug just right, and leather shoes that gleam under the dim lights. He’s got an almost empty drink in one hand and command in the other, completely in his element: confident, magnetic, unfairly good-looking. My stomach flutters just watching him. He doesn’t notice me until David says, “Look what I found.”

Caleb grinned immediately. “Well damn.”He said looking amused. I laughed softly. “What?” “You clean up nice.” His eyes moved over my outfit dramatically."you look really good" he complimented again. “Thank you,” I said, smiling. He pointed toward himself proudly. Caleb wore loose black cargos with a fitted dark grey tee that hugged his shoulders perfectly. A black varsity jacket hung over it, paired with white sneakers, a silver chain, and a watch that probably cost more than someone’s rent. Casual, rich, and effortlessly put together.

Now, the corridor smelled faintly of cardboard boxes and industrial floor cleaner. I pushed open the door to the auxiliary training room. It was mostly empty, but a single silhouette sat on the long bench beneath the rows of vacated lockers. Caleb didn't look up when the door clicked shut. He was wearing an old, frayed Harrison grey sweat suit, his left leg elevated on a low foam block, wrapped tightly in heavy medical tape. A single duffel bag sat open between his feet, half-filled with old tape rolls, skate guards, and a pair of worn-out training blades.

The heavy double doors of the boardroom didn't just open; they bounced off the walls, the glass fracturing into a spiderweb pattern. The entire board leapt to their feet. Walking through the threshold was Caleb Miller. He wasn't wearing his standard tailored Tom Ford suit. He was wearing his black tactical trousers, a simple linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his scarred forearms, and a heavy bandage wrapped tightly around his neck. His eyes were pure, predatory midnight. But he didn't walk to the head of the table. He stood by the door, acting as the guard. Step by step, the click of high heels echoed against the marble floor.

He rounded the desk and leaned back against it, arms crossed. “Take off the backpack.” Caleb let it slide to the floor with a soft thud. “And the hoodie.” Caleb gripped the hem, peeled it over his head. Underneath was a plain white T-shirt stretched across a runner’s chest—defined pecs, flat stomach, the shadow of a happy trail disappearing into low-slung jeans. No braiding, no pretense. Just smooth, tanned skin and the faint outline of hard nipples against cotton. Elias’s cock twitched in his slacks.

He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days, and he was on the verge of losing his mind. At that moment, Carl walked in, addressing Barry and Delphine. "Mr. Schmidt, someone has acquired Caleb’s company. The company that bought it is G Company." Barry was surprised. "So fast?" "Yes, I just saw the news." Carl took out a newspaper to show him. Barry glanced at the news. He didn’t recognize the name of G Company. "Wait, is there actually a company called G Company?" Barry asked, perplexed. Carl smiled, "Who knows? It’s just G Company. Caleb even sold off some of his assets, leaving only the villa and a shopping mall. He should be set for his retirement. The money he made from selling everything

Caleb picked up a glass of champagne and handed it to Dawson. "I heard that Mr. Mercer canceled all of our collaborative projects." "That's right." "Why? What did I do wrong?" Caleb asked. "Well, you weren't good enough anywhere." Caleb: ... Never in a million years did I expect it. I thought Dawson would be polite and courteous, but I never expected him to pull this stunt.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•CALEB *•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

The thought of going into the room to change crosses his mind but this will be Melanie’s first time seeing him in something other than a suit that has now been his uniform/everyday attire. In the room, Melanie changes into the only sweatpants that she brought from Orion, and before she finishes dressing up, Caleb steps out of the bathroom in a crisp, white linen shirt, untucked, and slightly rumpled, dark blue fitted jeans, but comfortable, a pair of scuffed brown leather loafers, a minimalist leather belt, and a simple silver watch. His hair is slightly tousled and his face sports a hint of stubble that she didn't notice earlier. As she sees him walk into the room, her eyes widen in surpris

" Caleb initially wanted to maintain a gentlemanly image before Leona, but Matthias' arrogant words made him lose his patience. He did not care how Leona saw him; he was determined to have his way with her later, whether she agreed or not. "Caleb, please show some respect when speaking to my husband!" Leona warned, glaring at Caleb. "Hey! What's wrong? Caleb is just speaking the truth," Jessica said, wrapping her arm around Caleb's. "Ms. Whitney, Caleb is only saying this for your sake. Even if it sounds harsh, it's the truth. "Even Caleb, as the Vice Chairman of Hewitt Enterprises, doesn't brag like that. Have you heard of Hewitt Enterprises? It's Caleb's family business, and his net worth