Gildarts Clive Novels & Stories

Goddess help me. A few minutes later Clive walks into the living room and clears his throat. I look up at him and he is holding a small package. He often did this. Whenever he saw me he would buy me an outrageously expensive gift. I don't know maybe he thought money would fix our broken relationship. All the gifts he has given me from the time I was eight is sitting in a box in my closet. "Here," he says handing me the small package and I take it from him. I pull off the ribbon on the box and open it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings.

"Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Wade!" Claire smiled wryly, and was about to turn and leave when the second day of the second month in the Oskian calendar reminded her of something. Turning back, she asked Stephen, "Actually, I have another question—I hope you can be honest with me, Mr. Thompson." "Feel free to ask, Mrs. Wade," Stephen promptly replied. Claire took a moment to gather her thoughts before saying, "There's this singer I really like: Quinn Golding. She's the only daughter of an important family in Eastcliff's elite circle, and never had a scandal even after she debuted in showbiz.

"What's your name?" "Shēl Revel, dear." The girl named Shēl was almost clinging to Clive who was looking at her hotly. "Well, pretty Shēl," Clive said softly as he leaned closer to the girl, his hand on her neck. He stopped just an inch of her earlobe and the hold he had on her neck tightened before he whispered. "The three of us don't really care what you say about Bloom. But if you continue slandering her with us around, my friend here will not hesitate throwing you off the window when the train starts." He leaned back to his seat, giving the girl a flirtatious wink.

Claire had chosen to lock away from the world. Inside the first glass case lay an old, tarnished silver pocket watch, a pair of blood-stained pearl cufflinks, and a framed, yellowed photograph from thirty years ago. I leaned closer, my breath caught in my throat. The photograph showed a younger Arthur St. Claire standing in front of the very mansion we were beneath. Beside him stood a strikingly handsome man with dark, intense eyes and a sharp, familiar jawline; a man who looked so much like Killian it made my skin prickle.

If he was the oldest staff in the estate, then he had to know something. Camille stepped out into the sun, skin prickling. She made her way across the lawn to the garden. And found him there, as always. Her months in the General's estate had taught her that Mr. Clive could always be found in the garden. It was like he was tied to it. Mr. Clive—kneeling beside a row of roses, hat on his head, watering can in hand. Bent with age, but steady. "Mr. Clive?" she called.

So just pay me my balance and leave here His voice was so harsh and cold I was looking from the opening on the closet's door and I saw her raising her hand to slap him Gladys: how dare you talk to me with disrespect? Clint caught her hand in mid air Clint : don't do anything stupid. If I should have you killed now, no one would know. And I'll just tie you up, use you to my satisfaction and hang you to my ceiling then stick my knives through every single opening in your naked body Gladys shivered and so did I

"Get the money first. Then we’ll pick a fight and force her to sign the divorce papers." "What about those gold bangles?" Rosalie suddenly asked. "From the look of them, even if you said they’re fake, what if they’re real? Should we get them checked?" "Checked for what?" Diana scoffed. "With how poor she looks, could she afford the real thing? I already looked. The clasp is worn. Definitely gold-plated junk. Keeping them is just taking up space. When the divorce happens, we’ll toss them back to her as bus fare so she can’t say we took advantage of her."

"Nobody tells the truth." Claire stared at me for several seconds then nodded slowly. "Fair." Arthur's expression changed. For the first time all night he looked uncomfortable. That caught my attention immediately. Claire reached inside her coat. Several men raised weapons instantly. Adrian moved toward me. I stepped away. His expression tightened. Good. Let him feel it. Claire ignored everyone then pulled out an old envelope. Yellowed, worn and protected. My pulse accelerated. "What is that?" Claire looked directly at me.

“Are you talking about these?” Clive didn’t utter another word. He dropped his gaze toward the floor, though infuriated. “Good job. You have all the notes on our operation. What you have here is absolutely correct.” Clive glanced at the four men. His face, marked with black and purple bruises. He glared at Morales, clenching his teeth. “Why you dirt sucking trash!” he yelled. “It was you… you’re the one.” he said, letting his voice trailed off.

she muttered, more to herself. That made Gildeon pause and glance up at her. “What Clover Wish?” “My latest art—the one I inked him with,” she replied before taking a spoonful of food. “Shame he didn’t get to enjoy his prize for long.” Gildeon leaned back in his chair, staring pensively at his plate, drumming a finger on the table. Did the news finally get to him? It took a while, but she’d take it. Maybe he still had a heart after all.