Clifford Hardwick Iii Novels & Stories

I was damn certain he was doing very well, unlike me that all I thought of during the twenty-four hours of each day was lady Monique and how I was going to make money and to be quite fair, for the later, nothing reasonable came to mind. Clifford's residence was in a small town on the suburbs of Hackney--a quiet place for that matter. Actually, the house belonged to his late father, and since the man made no will during his active years, he made one in his dying bed since he knew that it was over for him. Clifford was the one whom the house went to and after the old man died, my dear friend began a lot of renovations like changing all of the doors, installing new chandeliers since he claimed

"Mr. Sadowsky, why don't we all take a breather here? My husband didn't mean to offend you. It's just that Chelsea is still a student. Drinking isn't the best for her health." Clifford took a calming breath, feeling the tension ease slightly. He knew some things were unavoidable once the other party had set his mind on something. Micah held the power over many projects in the city. If Clifford didn't gain his cooperation, nothing could move forward. "I actually have someone else prepared for you, Mr. Sadowsky," Clifford said softly, barely loud enough for Chelsea to hear him.

Clifford! The bulky tattooed man I spotted earlier made his way towards us and I quickly bowed my head. Richard moved, shielding me from the man's line of view. "Long time no see." His deep voice rasped. "Uh... yeah Voight," Clifford replied, sounding a bit nervous. "I've... been busy. Family matters... you know." There was an awkward beat of silence, then the man spoke again. "So, who's that?" I gulped. "Umm..." Clifford loudly cleared his throat. "This is just... um..."