Gordon X Henry Novels & Stories

“That’s wonderful news. You always knew how to make a quality product. Perhaps this will be just what you need to make Westmoreland Textiles a household name on both sides of the Atlantic.” “Indeed,” Henry agreed. At thirty-five, his sandy blond hair should not have been thinning. Yet, when he ran his hand through, John could see much of his scalp. He hadn’t seen Henry in almost a year, but he certainly looked different. Thin—gaunt almost. His skin was pale and though he wore a suit, it was apparent he had several lesions near the cuff of his jacket on each arm. “How are things for you?” It took John a moment to realize he’d been asked a question; he was so distracted by his guest’s appearan

His stiff smile widened, and I nodded. "So, do you have the goods ready?" I asked him. He nodded vigorously. He stood up, walked briskly to where he had sat, and brought a suitcase. He placed the briefcase on the table and opened it. I pinned him with my eyes, watching his actions closely. Henry was a significant drug dealer with clients all over the world. He was a very popular underworld and respected. The truth that others didn't know was that he worked under me.

He had dark brown hair that was salt and pepper on the sides, unlike the other men in the gym he was more my age. “Henry” his voice boomed “What?” I asked as I had been so caught up in my dirty thought of this god like fox. “The person you’re eye fu€king, my name is Henry.” He spoke with a playfulness and a smirk as my checks turned a crimson red. “Come, I have my own private gym here.” He spoke as we walked to the side of the main gym. Even his ass was divine, I thought as I followed him to a separate gym even more luxurious then the one I was in.

Suddenly I was feeling more nervous about this. But it was too late to take back my word. Since it was dark out, the only light we had to work with was the floodlights in the back and the main light in the front. Fortunately, there was only two doors in Georgia's house and the video on YouTube was surprisingly helpful, even with all the electric jargon. "How long have you been working for Georgia?" I asked Henry. "For Georgia alone, only a couple years. But I've been with the company for about seven years. I used to be Mrs. Calloway's secretary."

Henry asked earnestly. Henry said, "Back when we were younger, I was quite close to him and his wife. We often helped each other out, too. Even though we drifted apart due to differences in business philosophy, we were still old acquaintances…" Henry had indeed known Xena and Cynthia's grandparents when they were younger. But since the families had drifted apart early on, not many people knew about it. Henry himself had never brought it up. After all, the Turner family had taken root in a different region and worked in a different industry.

He sounded very unimpressed and, as usual, bored, "Mr. Minnette had showed me his designs today for one of his clients." I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion, feeling frown lines etch themselves onto my forehead, "I'm sorry but I'm not sure I know who you're speaking of." He sighed in what sounded liked deep frustration, voice turning deeper as he said, "Jaxon Minnette, ring any bells?" Face palming myself due to my stupidity, I quickly said, "Oh, what about his designs?" "He had mentioned that you had helped him with it," Gunnar mused in what sounded like disbelief.

His fingers tightened around his phone. If Benedict fell, he fell too. It was that simple. He dialed a number to someone he never thought he would call. Tiana. She picked within seconds, her voice sharp, unstable. “Hello.” Tiana said, wondering who the caller was. “Good day, Mrs. Striker.” Henry greeted, trying to be professional. “Henry Augustine, CEO of Henz Corp, calling.” That name rang a bell. Tiana have heard of the Augustines, their continues fight against Sarah’s sudden, unexpected rise to power, and how powerful the two brothers were, from London to New York.

Henry gave a signal for Clarissa to take the kids to their rooms while he took the next step. Henry glanced through the peephole cautiously. When he recognized the man standing outside, he breathed a slight sigh of relief. It was their neighbor, Mr. Thompson, who lived just three houses down. Henry opened the door slowly, ensuring there were no unexpected surprises waiting behind the familiar face. He wondered what had brought him here, his family just moved here and they barely go out. "Good evening, Mr. Thompson," Henry greeted, attempting to hide the unease in his voice. "Evening, Henry," Mr. Thompson replied, stepping inside quickly. "I hope everything is going smoothly?”

he murmured under his breath, the name rolling slowly off his tongue as though trying to awaken something buried deep in his mind. Then it came back. Ten years ago. Henry had just taken over Goldings Corp from his father. At the time, he had been young, confident, and hungry to prove himself worthy of leading the powerful company his family had built over decades. He remembered that day clearly now. The large conference room had been filled with senior executives discussing several new acquisitions that Goldings Corp had recently secured. Henry had been seated at the head of the table, trying to appear calm and authoritative despite the fact that he was still learning the true weight of the

And he would not allow anyone else to speak ill of her. “Fire them,” Henry said. The assistant hesitated. “Sir, the prosecutors are auditing our taxes. The finance department is already short staffed…” Henry ignored him and strode toward the parking area outside. “The company won’t collapse without a few of them.” Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of the Jordan family villa. Henry went inside. As he changed his shoes, he asked the house staff, “Has Xenia eaten?” “No, sir. Madam has stayed in the master bedroom all day and hasn’t come downstairs. She didn’t eat lunch or dinner. When I brought the food up, she said she had no appetite and told me to take it away.”