Grayson Hawthorne Novels & Stories

Hawthorne as he sat up, massaging his neck and slowly rotating his head. Mr. Hawthorne stood up, unbuttoning his pajama top one by one. The morning light cast a vague outline, sparking curiosity within Jasmine. The shirt slipped off Mr. Hawthorne's body, revealing an impressive physique. Jasmine swallowed hard, quickly closing her eyes as Mr. Hawthorne began to walk away. Torn between admiration and embarrassment, Jasmine opened her eyes again and glanced at Mr. Hawthorne's muscular back as he widened the distance between them. She squinted, noticing a tattoo that read Lilly.

How could they possibly not know the Elkin family, one of the wealthiest families in the city? Even though they didn't know which Mr. Elkin Chase was referring to, Chase's respectful—and even flattering—attitude made it clear that he was referring to a powerful figure! It turned out that Heather had ties to the Elkin family! Who exactly was she? "Officer Irwin." Of course, Heather remembered him. He was the one who had helped get Whitney out of prison. She hadn't expected to see him here. "Miss, are you badly injured? How did you..."

"U-uh. Eldar. H-hello fancy meeting you here. I was--we were just.." Greyson interrupted me, showing a rather toothy smile. "I was helping her highness get straightened out. It seems she has had a bit too much to drink. I would gladly appreciate your assistance to help her into bed, as I have errands to run." Errands. Errands? What was he thinking? I just had one of the best and most embarrassing I might add, moments of my life. And here he was, trying to run off! I stomped on his foot and tried to punch him but Eldar was there a moment too quick.

looking helpless as he lost the only thing that made him a god: his land. "You look like you're staring at a funeral," Silas rumbled, standing by the window. His silhouette appeared massive against the grey sky. "I am," I whispered. My voice was a dry rasp, like a dead leaf when crushed. "I'm watching the burial of the Crescent Alpha. I just didn't expect the scene to look so... boring, and ordinary…" My cough broke the silence, a deep, racking tremor that made my ribs feel like they were being snapped back one by one. I pressed a tissue to my mouth that quickly soaked in a dark, thick crimson. I didn't panic; that was for people who still had a future.

“Isn’t there like a safety switch or something? I’ll keep it on until it’s needed.” Grayson hesitates a moment before engaging the trigger safety. He steps closer to show it to me. “Just tab this switch here if you need to fire it. Think you can do that?” I meet his gaze and try to ignore how my heart leaps with him standing so close to me. The wing of a hawk tattoo peeks out from the bottom of his t-shirt sleeve, adorning those ripped biceps. I swallow in a dry throat. “Yeah...if I can fix a CB radio, I think I can manage to pull a trigger.”

Austin POV I stood there rooted to the spot as Leslie walked away. The words she said echoed in my head. Leslie Grayson. Granddaughter of Harold Grayson. Harold Grayson was a legend in the business world. A ruthless tycoon who built an empire from scratch and was known for never forgiving a slight. A man who didn't even have a photo of himself in any public domain. It would be a miracle to catch one or two pictures of his interviews or videos which didn't last on the media for twenty four hours.

Chapter 12 – Hyacinth The moment Silas walked away, the tension he left in his wake felt like a storm hovering just above the horizon, ready to unleash chaos at any moment. I sat there, frozen on the stone bench, the sunlight now a warm contrast to the icy chill he'd left behind. His words echoed in my mind: "You’re not ready for my truths." The arrogance. The nerve.

Grayson muttered as he took a sip of his beer. Connor McKnight took a good sweep of his friend and couldn't help but notice a change in his behavior, Grayson was much more laid back and clad in a simple tee shirt and faded jeans, even Connor himself couldn't remember the last time he saw his friend wearing a simple shirt that wasn't tailored and ironed to perfection.

Not that Amberleigh had much room to talk where the matter of fornication was concerned though. But it wasn’t the church or a pretty parishioner the billionaire entered, but rather the graveyard behind the looming structure. By the time she made it inside the churchyard and took cover behind a small mausoleum, he’d already reached his destination. She watched Grayson down on his knees, not giving a fuck about his expensive suit, wiping off the black, marble headstone before him with a silk handkerchief. He took great care cleaning off the stone, before he removed some dead flowers from silver holder near the headstone. He replaced the wilted stems with the fresh bouquet. Amberleigh bit the i

She almost turned back to her room but then she heard footsteps. Instinctively, she ducked behind the archway of the kitchen, her breath catching in her throat. Grayson walked in. He hadn’t seen her. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie loosened. Hair slightly messy like he’d raked a hand through it in frustration. He looked… different. Undone. Unaware. Like a man instead of a contract. He opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, and drank not elegantly, not carefully. Just like a tired man in his kitchen. And for the first time, she didn’t see Grayson Wolfe the billionaire, the businessman, the man with ice in his voice.