James Phelps Novels & Stories

Marcus Kean asks, a look of concern in his eyes. “Yeah. Did I miss anything?” James asks and Marcus raises an eyebrow, then walks over. Reminding James that although he was buff, he was still a ways away from achieving the bulkiness of football players. “You didn’t, but I got a feeling I’m the one missing something here.” Marcus prompts, breaking down any defense James has up. For Marcus was a resident psychologist, one the youngest in his class, with a good enough reputation. James peers around the kitchen, confirming it was the shower running that he heard. “I’m not sure.” He sighs. “River and I-,”

"I'm sorry if I misspoke. I suspect she's going to try to get my son back." "Eh, let her try." Which, apparently, the model was already attempting. Plastered to Xavier in the middle of the room, she walked her fingers up his chest. Xavier, jaw tight, stared balefully at her. A couple feet away, the photographer snapped shots. "Crap. I'll be right back." Peyton made her way over and hooked her arm through the photographers'. "James, you talented devil. You're doing a wonderful job." "Thanks, Miss Smoke." His ruddy cheeks blushed. He was a good foot shorter than her and had two strips of gray hair over his temples. The rest of his head was bald. "I was thankful for the opportunity to come back

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James went forward with confidence, but unexpectedly, Thyme Sylis, who was said to have no achievements whatsoever, put up quite a fight. In fact, in the field of shooting, James was overwhelmed with shots that were right on target. In addition, when they clashed physically, Thyme almost managed to punch James in the stomach. Had James not dodged quickly, he would have gotten a point deduction for that punch. “You're pretty strong too, young man,” the thirty-two-year-old Thyme said. The young man was panting after Mary Kesley had given them a break. James grinned, “If I wasn't strong, how could I have been selected as a candidate for war general, Senior?”

“Exactly. James doesn't do this. Not anymore.” Tayo leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “Maybe something came up. The man does have a life outside your apartment.” I glared at him. “His phone is off, Tayo.” That shut him up. We both knew James always kept his phone on. After a short silence, Tayo asked, “Has James ever actually told you what he does on those work trips?” I frowned. “He works in investments and property development. You know that.” Tayo raised one eyebrow. “Company names? Partners? Actual details?”

"You know who I am, then." Adom couldn't stop the way his lips spread into a smile. "Oh, of course. WIN James —shamed son of the James family. War hero on the losing side."

The staff guided them to a room, opened the door and left. Mr Phill James, a well known businessman in the world of business talks. Who didn’t know him? And well if one didn’t know him, he didn’t exist. Simple. He was a man in early fifties. Sharp. Pointed. Intellegent. He had his cool demeanor that could be missunderstood as cold and scary, but he wasn’t. He was just a man of words and that was not a big deal. He was accompanied by two board of members as the panel.

His other friends laughed. "Who would have thought David Carlson would join us on this desk due to woman problems?" "Right? We only come here to escape from our wives, welcome to the club David." "You haven't even seen me in a year and you can't welcome your best friend with a hug?" James teased, "you didn't return any of my calls since I came back to the country I didn't think this would be the first place I'd see you." James was a model who was as tall as David, he was also a famous actor and was well known for his works.

Now, however, he could not even withstand a single blow from a young man. Everyone fixed a stare at James as if he was a monster. Even Koehler Keyes, the organizer of the International Martial Arts Conference, could not help but glance at James. Wearing a grim expression on his face, he murmured, “Looks like this young man by the name of James is no ordinary man. Though he’s young, he possesses immense strength. How rare…” Looking at Polaris who vomited a mouthful of blood, James said nonchalantly, “I didn’t even use any strength. Can you continue?”

The bed shook as he rolled over on the mattress to grab his phone from the table. “It’s James.” James is a warlock from my coven. During Lillian’s reign he had protested her rule and her way of doing things, he even called her out on a few of her lies. As a consequence, he had to flee to the states because there had been too many attempts on his life. Now he was under our employ, as the Chief Executive Officer of our foundation.