Novel & Cerita Grayson Allen Gf

"I am going to... I cannot..." "Let go, Ayla," Grayson commanded, his voice rough. "Come for me." Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her whole body going taut as pleasure exploded through every nerve ending. She cried out his name, her inner walls clamping down on his fingers, her whole body shaking with the intensity of her release. --- [THE NEXT DAY - GC GROUP OF COMPANIES] Grayson sat behind his massive desk, the morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He flipped through the portfolio in front of him, reviewing the credentials of his potential new PA. The resume was impressive. Years of experience, excellent references, all the qualifications he needed.

"Wasn't it said that Grayson's fiancée committed suicide? What's this all about?" The other guest shushed him urgently, glancing around before lowering his voice. "Keep it to yourself. Especially don't bring it up in front of Grayson." "Why not?" Allen raised a brow, intrigued. The man hesitated but eventually relented. "After his fiancée's death, he was removed from his position in Bryce Ventures, and… well, he hasn't been the same since. He insists Wendy isn't dead—that she just left in anger and that he's brought her back. But the truth is…" The guest leaned in conspiratorially. "He found someone who looks eerily like her, a perfect stand-in. Claims she's the real deal."

"Perhaps if you hadn't embarrassed her on your wedding night, we wouldn't be discussing this." "Don’t preach to me, Karina." "You believe I don't already feel terrible?" “Then behave accordingly, Zack.” Take an action that *demonstrates* your concern. "For a change in your life, cease reacting and begin contemplating." He turned his gaze, jaw tight, embarrassment flickering across his face. My phone vibrated in my hand. A message from my guy: > Ethan Grayson. 29. CEO of Grayson Holdings. Filed a marriage certificate in Vegas with Leena Davis two years ago. No record of annulment or divorce.

I was annoyed to switch the channel to a popular network, but my smile faded when I saw who was the content of the news. “Just in. Businessman Greyson Harden Blast and the daughter of a business tycoon, Angel, are now married. Let's hear it from our reporter, Gialyn Gaca. Gialyn?” Gialyn: Yes, Zen. The whole business world was shocked when they found out about the secret marriage of now Mr. and Mrs. Blast. Recently, Greyson proposed to Angel. The newlyweds also shared their first baby girl who is now three months old in the womb of Mommy Angel Blast. Let's now hear their statements.

I tell the guys. “I have good news,” Allen says all excited, passing his phone to me. “What does this have to do with the situation at hand?” I hiss, as I toss his phone that has the picture of a blonde getting into the car back at him. “That is Elena Grayson,” he informs and I stretch my arms forth to take the phone from where I toss it to have a better look at the lady in the video. “But she looks a lot different…” I voice out. “She does look a lot different, but everything makes sense now,” he says and I see a satisfactory smile plastered to his face through the center mirror.

“I’ll leave you boys to it. Gotta head to the squad complex to help Serena whip these high school kids into fighting shape.” “Damn right you do,” Gray growls, leaning over to deliver a swat to Fallon’s ass as she steps around the desk. “Give ‘em hell, babe.” Fallon pauses as she skirts past me on her way out, grabbing onto my forearm and giving it a little squeeze. “You’ve got this,” she whispers, giving me a subtle nod of encouragement before continuing to the door. Gray’s eyes are glued to his mate’s ass until she exits, and only then do they swing back up to meet mine. He leans back in his chair, gesturing to another across the desk. “Wanna sit?”

Him looking relaxed, more confident now that she is here. Growing up, I’ve always wanted something similar to what they had. I didn’t think it would be possible. Right now, I could even say I’ve given up on that. “Oh, I’ve seen your statement piece for fall,” Mum says to Mrs. Granger. “The style is impeccable, as always.” From the conversations I wasn’t really paying attention to. I got to know Grayson’s father owns a chain of hotels and his mother is a fashion designer. His father is a family man from the looks of it, even though he rarely smiles.

Grayson had given me one of his black and white football jerseys which I wore as a dress with my black Balenciaga's and Louis V fanny pack unde. My make-up was in the team colors as well and I had on my right cheek Grayson's number 85 in glitter. I had invited Min Jae who invited a few other people to come and support my man. The first half was amazing. Grayson moved like a machine and caught 8 out of the 12 passes that had been thrown to him.

He stepped out in front of what looked like a jewelry store, shutting the door behind him and for some reason, I could finally breathe. “Why did you stop?” I asked, turning to Axel. “Oh, Sir Grayson has to get a gift.” “A gift? For who?” “His brother. It’s his engagement party today.” My brows furrowed slightly. The door opened again, and Grayson stepped back in shortly after. The car resumed its journey, and a few minutes later, we arrived at a very expensive-looking building. My gaze barely lingered on it—especially when it landed on Chris. He stood outside, talking to an elderly couple, his lips stretched into a smile.

Then she stepped aside, giving Grayson center stage. "Good morning," he began, his voice steady and authoritative. "Thank you for joining us on such short notice. I'm here to address the allegations published this morning regarding myself, Honey Johnson, and my former fiancée Morgan Fairchild." The room fell silent as Grayson continued, laying out the timeline of his breakup with Morgan before seeing Honey in any personal capacity. His voice never wavered as he described discovering Morgan's infidelity with another woman, ending their engagement immediately. "When Ms. Fairchild claimed pregnancy after our breakup, I took the claim seriously despite having reason to doubt its veracity. I requ