George Novels & Stories

A deep, masculine voice came through the speaker, and I instinctively jerked the phone away from my ear as if it had burned me. My throat tightened. Shit. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to take a steady breath. "Hello?" he said again, this time more impatiently. I clenched my jaw and steeled myself. "This is Laura George," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "I want to meet."

George asked feeling uncomfortable. George is a very private man. He was never comfortable with displaying his personal life in front of others. So the media involvement in his daughter's life is unsettling. The thought of being under people's scrutiny is outright scary. But he cannot let his daughter ruin her life. He has to do something to make her life happy. The only thing he could do is to talk to Damien about Mia and her 'terms'.

George greeted as he grabbed Miranda's hand and kissed it. Miranda gasped, not at George's actions, but rather the subzero temperature of his skin. George noticed her reaction, but he did not rush in releasing her hand. "The pleasure's mine." Miranda said carefully. George was a tall man, with midnight black hair he pulled back into a bun behind his head. His skin was pale, his lips red. There were dark colored circles around his eyes, which seem to take refuge underneath his large forehead. He was dressed in an all-black suit, and when he smiled, Miranda noted the

George asked as my eyes widened. "I didn’t!" I replied. "Check again" George said as I smiled. "You okay now?" George asked softly. I wanted to melt as I nodded my head. "Yes, I’m very much better now" I replied. "Okay, I have work; I’ll call you later Anjola" George added. "You... you know my name?" I asked in surprise. He laughed into the phone. "Such a pretty name" He replied as he hung up. I held my phone with a huge smile on my face as I chuckled and laughed. Talk of cool guys.

I wondered while George nodded his head as a sense of eagerness flashed through his eyes. "Is it just me, or does it appear as though he's biding his time?" I asked Angela as I continued observing him intently before he spoke. Then, as though every worry I had which kept me rooted to the spot where I was, George spoke. "I know this may come as a shock. But, I need you to know something." He stated while taking a deep breath, and a breath of air floated into his lungs. "I'm George. I believe you're my granddaughter."

Behind him followed his dad and a lady I didn’t recognise. “Leah, it’s great to see you. We are glad that you could make it today.” Jack offered me his hand. I shook his hand, “Thank you for the opportunity to interview for a position here.” “Leah, this is Julie Shepherd. Julie this is Leah.” Julie held her hand out, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Likewise.” I shook her hand. “Thank you for bringing her up, Logan.” Julie smiled at him, there was something all too familiar about the smile.

Anna shivered seeing him look at her and try to remember something, all the memories began to fly in. “Where's Eleanor?” His thick voice loomed over the room, sending shivers to the queen and Anna. By his face, it was obvious he was on for revenge. The door opened at the moment and George walked in with a serious face. Seeing him, the king furrowed his brows. “What's wrong, George?” He asked, standing up from the bed while the queen tried to make him take it slowly to avoid hurting himself after the surgery. He ignored her and walked over to his son.

Half a minute later, Rhea heard footsteps approaching again. Annoyed, she opened her eyes. "Are you…" The words froze in her throat. It was George. He was dressed in a sharp suit. Standing tall and poised, he exuded a calm and serious demeanor. The clean cut of his short hair gave him a trace of unruliness that didn't quite fit the image of a man in power. George's gaze was calm as he asked, "Did you go through with it already?"

And George had been sent by a witch with a vision to find her, and he’d brought these people with him. George has light skin and wavy ash-brown hair, just touching the tops of his ears. His dark blue, almost navy eyes are looking out the window, while still keeping her in his peripheral vision. Knowing this made her shiver a little, causing him to squeeze her shoulder gently. He was six-four, with a kind, regal face, with an aquiline nose and full lips.

Nonetheless, ‘she’ had more experience than her, and Danica had always respected her opinions. With a heavy sigh, Marie settled herself in the seat between them. “What’s wrong?” Danica asked. “Just heard George is dead.” That said, Marie waved at a server. “What?!” she exclaimed. Simultaneously, Marc asked, “George who?” It couldn’t be the George she met yesterday, could it? “George Miller, tall, brunette,” Marie answered after she ordered her drink to the server. “That’s him,” Danica pressed her temple, trying to process the information.