Garrett Anderson Book Novels & Stories

His tall frame was tense, his usually easy going demeanor replaced with concern. “Come in, Rowan,” I said, gesturing to the chair across from me. He strode in and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. “You look troubled.” “Troubled doesn’t begin to cover it,” I muttered. “I just got word that Garret was spotted in the slums this evening. It seems he went into a den of thugs and came out looking like he’d made a deal with the devil.” Rowan’s brows furrowed. “Garret? He’s Elder Marcus’ man, isn’t he?”

But heaviness weighed on me after what had happened-always, a shadow and steadfast. It was one of those afternoon-smelling sun in every room kinds-when I was working on my sketch pad, enjoying the warmth inside the sitting room. There was something funny going on that needed my attention. Garrett was a tall, hulking wide-shouldered Aiden hired one day to serve as my bodyguard-suffocatingly intense. The thing was, it didn't show when he watched, as in, kept focused; this man was decidedly onto something. I looked up from my sketchpad, shifted in my seat to get comfortable, and caught him staring at me.

From his brooding attitude whenever I didn't bend to his will to the male who always sought adventure and solace within a book. The smell of fresh rain and smoke filled every square inch of the space. The golden accents glistened brightly against the dim lighting and the glowing fire. Garren sat by the fireplace, slipping a bookmark between the pages of his book before closing it and setting it on the table with the others. He stood, revealing his gray sweatpants and white tunic. His auburn hair was tied back, showing his perfect face. His muscles flexed as he stretched, revealing a sliver of his toned torso. Suddenly I was all too aware of how alone we were in this tiny space.

"I got married to her." Stephen looked at Garrett and said distractedly, "What's mine is hers. Not to mention the fact that Emerald Group has always belonged to her." Garrett's mind blanked immediately. He was in a daze for a while before he finally managed to speak. "Mr. Anderson, you should have told me earlier! I was trying so hard to help you keep control of the Group. It turns out that I was just making a fool of myself! "I really don't understand you two. You were acting so strangely this entire time. I thought you were against Ms. Y taking back the Group! But it seems that it was just a trick!"

Anderson escorted him out of the room. 'Oh my God, what should I do? Why does my heart hurt so much? My courage is gone. My plan failed.' Anderson thought. He felt hopeless. He entered the room again. "What are you doing?" Anderson sent a message to Zivanna. He ruffled his hair. Anxiously waiting for Zivanna's reply. [I'm reading the book you gave me. I have to finish it so I can return it to you because this afternoon I'm leaving this hospital.]

Garrett's room was in disarray, a reflection of the turmoil within him. His office bore the brunt of his anger, with his desk upturned, belongings strewn across the floor, and a hole in the wall from his frustrated punch. He was seething with self-directed fury, unable to comprehend his own actions. He couldn't believe what had transpired, and his inner Beast sneered at him in furious judgment, condemning him to wallow in his own misery. Running his hands through his hair, Garrett felt a pang of guilt and remorse. Davies appeared at his office door but shook his head, delivering the news that she was locked away in her room, consumed by tears. She refused any assistance or company, shutting

I kept my hand light on Adrian’s arm and let him handle the first greetings while I quietly mapped the room. An hour later, Garrett appeared beside me. I knew him from my research. He was Dominic's longtime board ally, an expert at finding weaknesses in people. He shook my hand warmly. He asked friendly questions that all carried the same quiet message: you don’t belong here. I answered each one politely but gave him nothing useful. “The adjustment must be hard for someone with my background,” he said gently. “I always found it easier to understand people than to impress them.”

Suit rolled his eyes at the figure of Anderson walking into his room. Anderson got into his car and made a few rounds around town. Since things had turned out the way it had, Anderson wanted to clear his head a little. He was hoping to come up with a few plans that could help him. He was contemplating on killing Jarred. That did not seem like too bad of a plan, but the problem was Jarred rarely left the office, and the office was surrounded with cameras and guards. Anderson did not mind the guards. He believed he could take them out. The problem was the cameras. He did not have the expertise to take them out without alerting his enemy of something being wrong.

"Why would Garrett be looking into their biographies?" *

Silence settled heavily. Garrett stepped closer to the table, pulling a worn leather folder from inside his coat. “I spent years believing what everyone else believed,” he admitted. “That you caused it.” Ronan flinched almost invisibly. “You disappeared. The hunters arrived right after. The timing was too perfect.” His expression darkened. “But eventually, things stopped making sense.” Kade leaned forward slightly. “Such as?” Garrett opened the folder carefully, spreading several papers across the table. Old documents.