Romans & histoires Courtney Blackson

responded the billionaire, “as I have dinner reservations at nine thirty.” Leo was soon by her side and both of them made the trek to the den. It took a lot to surprise or catch Amberleigh Dubois off guard. She had been born to a drug addicted mother in a slum and worked in a sex club after all, so she’d seen and experienced a lot of shit in her twenty-two years. But still walking into the den and seeing Courtney Van Tessin sitting next to Grayson with her hand draped on his knee wasn’t something she was prepared to see. Or that ginormous rock encircling the heiress’ left ring finger.

Alister Blackstone entered. He looked like a predator entering its domain. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal grey suit, his silver hair gleaming under the courtroom lights, he projected an aura of cold, controlled confidence. His lawyer, a sleek shark in pinstripes, followed a step behind. Alister’s gaze swept the room, lingering for a fraction of a second too long on Damien, radiating contempt, then sliding dismissively over me before fixing, with unnerving intensity, on Lila.

Three of them. Two men and one woman all dressed in black. They were not flashy, not loud and they looked controlled and disciplined. The woman stood in the center, she’s in her mid forties and her eyes were sharp with a composed expression. She did not scan the room like someone looking for approval. She observed like someone measuring value. “That’s her,” Lucas said quietly. “Helena Blackthorne.” So that was her name. Helena Blackthorne She did not rush and she did not smile widely, she simply walked forward as if the room already belonged to her.

Like a version of me that belonged in a completely different world. I jerked back slightly, my heart racing, as if I’d been stung by the picture. Julian watched me closely, his eyes following every expression that crossed my face. “What is this?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Who is she?” “That,” Julian said calmly, folding his arms casually over his chest, “is Kimberly Hayes. She’s my cousin’s fiancée. Nathan Blackwood—CEO of Blackwood Industries.” He reached over, swiping his finger across the screen until another picture appeared. “That’s him.”

The women paired theirs with ridiculously short, tight skirts that seemed far from professional. Mr. Ross looked expectant. On edge. His eyes scanned the room for someone more competent, more experienced, more professional. Not me. And then our eyes met, and realization settled over his face. I smoothed my expression into something resembling composure and crossed the room to meet him, my hand already extended before I’d fully arrived. “Mr. Ross. Aurélie Blackwood, from Reynor Corporations. Thank you for making the time.” He stood and shook my hand. Firm. Measured. Still sizing me up. “Ms. Blackwood.”

“You’re calling the cops?” “No, I’m calling an ambulance. You said there are children. They need medical attention, we can report the accident later. Write down your details, please.” He handed me a black notebook. The front is embossed with gold lettering. Greyson Elliot. Slack-jawed, I glanced at the notebook, then cast my gaze over the God before me. It can’t be? It’s not possible. He has Greyson’s eyes but nothing else. Greyson Elliot is a scrawny, acne-ridden geek and dirt poor. And I haven’t laid eyes on him in a decade.

I said, "I could keep you company sometimes." "You'll be late for school." he said and walked away. You won't be playing hard to get for too long. ** I saw Adam on my way to 5th period, he was standing at someone else's locker, the owner peeked out on the other side of the locker and I couldn't lie, she was pretty, way prettier than me, silky brown hair and hazel eyes, with full lips painted a nice rosy pink. She had on a black plaid skirt, a black hoodie and was wearing converse sneakers.

Mary Kinson could not guess what William Black was thinking, but she tried to answer. Sure enough, William Black, his thin lips pursed, and his eagle eyes gazed deeply, "I ask you how you feel sitting here alone with me?" Mary Kinson's eyebrow lifted, and her eyes squinted. This position, could it be Black's and the organizers? Because she came, there were only them here, so was she ruining his business? She lowered her gaze and explained, "I just want to take care of your injury, so you do not have to worry about me in the future."

"Take your seat; this is where the interview will hold." "Thank you," I said, lowering myself into the chair and facing Jaxon, who seemed to be scrutinizing my every move. "Can you tell me about your background and why you want to join the company?" he asked, his eyes scanning my credential. "My name is Celine Martin. I stayed in Italy but had to come here due to my family’s bankruptcy, as stated in my permit. I’ve always been passionate about organization and helping others, which naturally led me to pursue a career as an assistant. I worked at Langley Company, where I developed strong communication and multitasking skills. In my previous roles, I enjoyed supporting teams by managing schedu