Jm Sinclair Novels & Stories

A few hours later, it was all on the news: “Sinclair Stone is a heartless man, he treated his wife badly and didn't care about his mother till it was her last moments on earth.” This was what the news was about: the years he had kept me inside the house and ignored my existence, cheated on me, and broken my heart. And his mother longs for her son so much that she had to force her way into his house and use her terminal illness to get him to let her stay. It wasn't a highly guarded secret; Sinclair only cared about people's opinions when it affected the company, so anyone who observed enough or a snitch worker at the mansion could have leaked it out to the press. We made sure to tell enough t

Jackie had instructed placing Mr Smith photo projector reflected board. "This is the man in charge of the weapon co-ordination, his name is Leonard Smith, age 47, birthplace London, grow Up in New Orleans, moved to Malibu California after his parent divorced, finish school in New York, status married with three kids, lost one during a communal conflict, joined NSA a year after he got married, become a police inspector at age 24, he's a reputable officer, commander too, got his third badge at age 28 which was when he got married-

I replied, and he shook his head, sipping his bottle of juice. "But if it happens again," he paused, using his finger to trace his neck, "they're dead." "Isn't that going too far?" I asked, slipping my hands into my pockets, and he smirked. "You obviously don't know Slim," he said. That got me thinking. I realized I didn't really know him beyond the fact that he dealt drugs and had anger issues. "What do I need to know?" I asked, my eyes returning to Hayden on the court.

~ ANASTASIA ~ I step deeper into the large household, mentally rolling my eyes as an old man in white and black butler outfit after speaking with Damien walks towards me. “Good evening, Mrs Vicen–” “Ms. Zhukov.” I correct. He frowns in puzzlement. “I'm keeping my maiden name.” I say, the words sounding like a lie even to my own ears. He nods stiffly. “Very good ma'am. Shall I excort you to the–”

I had no choice but to do this job so I just did my daily routine and did as was told and cookd what Brian loved. I walked with a tray in my hands of a chicken salad I had made with a glass of lemonade since it was kinda hot outside today and I knew Brian must be a bit warm in his room. So I wanted to make him something cool and refreshing to drink and eat. I took a deep breath in before knocking and then coming in but no guards or nursers were with me this time. I guess they all got tired of this bull shit as I was. I came in to find Brian sitting on his bed smiling at me.

Mr Sinclair had never been an emotional person and sometimes, he acted like he didn't care, but Damien was his only child. He always wanted the best for him and although Damien always went against him, that didn't change his love for him. "I just came to invite you to my wedding and if you can be by my deathbed, I would be grateful. You've not been a good father to me, but you're still the man who helped me in fulfilling my dreams," Damien uttered, trying not to get emotional. Mr Sinclair stood to his feet and dropped his book on the table. "You're not going to die. We are going to get another opinion and save your life. We won't just seek help in the US. We will seek…help abroad…" Mr Sincla

Business. "Jailbird, you're up. Two gentlemen waiting." I grabbed my small purse, the one that held exactly nothing except emergency cash in case I needed to dash and pepper spray if the men got too creepy. "Who?" "Investment banker is back. The one from last night." She checked her phone. "He specifically asked for you. Said you were a good listener." I remembered him. Balding, wedding ring tan line, three whiskeys deep by midnight. He'd tipped well though. Two hundred for basically sitting there and nodding.

I remain composed with a small smile plastered on my face. Maximo smirks at me, his gaze simply darkening in a frightening way. It's the first time he has looked at me like this, “ Isn’t that right, Samantha? You won’t play any tricks on us right, cause you know I am itching to burn stuff up,” My senses are alert and I offer a sharp node. He snaps his fingers, “ Great, Santino, call her brother.” He instructs. As he ashes up the cigar in his palms. I took note of how he only smokes one type of cigar, the most expensive one in the world. He is truly living up to his billionaire reputation.

Sinclair smiled and beckoned unto his assistant that stood behind him. " Seems like you lots don't listen to the news anymore" He motioned to his assistant who went ahead to play the news that was on the front page of the iPad he held. " Breaking News On Business Posts this week. Multi-millionaire Businessman, Mr Sinclair, who was detained after his recuperation from coma 5 years ago has been found innocent of all the charges he was accused of. Evidence that was dropped by an anonymous person this week contained pieces of how he was innocent and wrongly accused of corruption by opponents who went after him for not supporting their supposed candidates five years ago.

Her silence, her panic—oh, it was everything I needed. I almost smiled. Almost. But before I could savor it, before I could watch her crumble beneath my gaze, a shadow slid between us. I blinked, looking up…and my breath hitched. The janitor. God, he was even hotter up close. Blonde hair messy in that careless way, lips sharp and perfectly curved, his tall frame casting a shadow that swallowed Amara whole. That jawline…chiselled like it had been made to tempt. My eyes lingered a second too long before I snapped them away.