King Edward Love Chair Novels & Stories

He pulled the chair next to Miles back to take his seat when all of a sudden, Miles suddenly pointed at the chair and shouted, "That's Uncle George's seat! You can't sit on that!" 'George's seat?' Cedrick sneered. 'He has slippers of his own in this place and even a special seat?' He snarled and got up, purposely knocking the chair onto the ground, which dropped with a deafening slam. "What happened?" Catelyn hurried out of the kitchen, alarmed by the noise. Cedrick lifted the chair and deadpanned, "The legs of the chair are crooked. Let me get someone to fix it for you." With that, he dragged the chair toward the door before Catelyn and threw it away.

He hadn't known what that meant, but he'd trusted that she would handle whatever needed to be handled. On Saturday morning he said to Alexander: "I'd like to talk about it properly. Today, if you're free." "I'm free," Alexander said. They sat at the kitchen table—the chairs Alexander had bought in January, which were the right chairs. The right height for the table, the right angle for the back, the right fabric for someone who might be sitting in them for hours at a time. Alexander had not consulted Elijah on the purchase, but he had clearly been paying attention to the way Elijah sat, the way he shifted in his seat when a chair was uncomfortable, the way he settled when a chair was right.

"I think Great-Grandpa Eddie's beard is not a toy." Edward waved off my concern. "Nonsense! This beard has survived board meetings, hostile takeovers, and your grandmother's attempts to trim it. I think it can handle a curious baby." As we made our way inside, the opulence of the château took my breath away. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, priceless artworks hung in ornate frames, and crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead. "Now then," Edward said, leading us to a cozy sitting room, "who wants a drink? I've got a 1982 Lafite Rothschild that's been begging to be opened."

There were two chairs arranged at the corner while at one side there was a coffee table paired with two cube stools which after usage could be slid under the table. “You have got cutest, compact stools then why these two chairs?” “I was thinking of you Zeki when I bought them. That may be you will not find comfortable sitting on those.” “Anything comfortable for you has to be cozy enough for me, sweetheart.” He reached out to hold her hand. She looked up into his golden eyes and said the words that came to her mind, “I love you!” and then held her breath. She wanted to know if it’s too late and hoped to God that he had not found anyone else.

She looked far fresher than I felt. Lance greeted me at the door and escorted me to a large, tapestry upholstered, wing backed chair. “You look flushed, my love. Are you alright?” The man was amazing. Not only was he put back together, but he was as cool as a cucumber. Once again, one would never know that we’d only moments earlier had a lover’s tryst. How did he do it? Was he using magic? He had to be. “Did you find our wayward son?” Edward asked of his wife as he assisted her into a chair opposite mine.

There was a short bookcase along a wall under three large odd paintings. Edward’s desk was along the far wall. He also had a corner view with floor to ceiling windows as two of the walls in his office. There were two modern white leather chairs in front of his desk. They looked like the ones in the waiting room but more like an upgraded version. Edward’s desk was sleek and black with a glass top. His chair was white leather with black outlines. He had very little clutter on his desk, just a computer monitor and an iPad.

The blue-white light from the panoramic windows made the room look clinical, stripped of any warmth. Edward sat at the head of the table. The CEO position. His tablet was already open in front of him, his posture straight but tense. He looked up when I entered. Our eyes met. Held. He looked exhausted. The skin tight over his cheekbones, his eyes bloodshot. But he didn't look away. Neither did I. "Good morning, Ms. Valentine." Edmund, the Board Chair, stood from the seat to Edward's right. He was a man of sharp angles and grey hair, the institutional memory of the company. He didn't offer the patronizing smile he usually reserved for family members.

I chuckled, “Because I had my sources find out more about him. I don’t have any problems taking him on but he should be around to do that. I cannot fight empty air, can I?” Edriel shook his head and began again. He dragged me to one of the plush chairs that you would sink into the moment you rested your butt on it. He had always had a liking for grandiose things and his chamber was proof of it. It could even rival that of my father’s based on how it was stuffed with tasteful pieces of furniture, tapestries, carvings, etc. But I could not distract myself by admiring it for long as he tugged at my hands again.

The chair shattered against the wall, while Edward let out a painful groan before his eyes rolled back, and he passed out. The boardroom fell into a deathly silence.

I know who’s organized this. The guy runs through how to charge and operate it, and how to fold it down, and I listen as best as I can while my head spins. When he’s done, I bring the chair inside and take it into the living room. Mum looks up from her crochet and stares at it. “It’s from Kip,” I say, my voice squeaky with emotion. We both know it’ll mean increased freedom for her around the house, and maybe even when we go out, if I can figure a way to get it in and out of the car.