Lester Sinclair Novels & Stories

But the more she speaks, the more I get convinced of her so-called true love. The silence that fills the room is worse than any accusation. Justin keeps her head bowed, guilt overshadows her. I turn toward the door to leave, I hear Justin’s voice one last time. The words are barely more than a whisper. “Tell him… I’m sorry. And that I meant every moment that was real.” I did not answer, I just stopped at the door. The quiet around me is not empty, it carries the low, dangerous hum of siren power, the kind that made the air feel thicker than it was.

I sat there with my hands on the keyboard and my tea going cold and something very calm and very wrong settling over me. They were telling me I had just been inseminated with a stranger's sample. I read it a third time to make sure I hadn't misunderstood. I hadn't. I typed the name from the legal notice into the search bar with fingers that were not entirely steady. Cael Sinclair. The results loaded instantly. Pages of them. Sinclair Industries. Billionaire. Portland-based. Thirty-four years old. Private, notoriously private, barely a personal photograph anywhere, mostly press shots from corporate events where he stood at the edge of the frame like he'd agreed to be photographed the way oth

But he must have been an important figure due to how Julie was taking it as a big deal because she glared at me. “I know you are oblivious and all. But how can you not know Sinclair Stone is your husband? The Sinclair Stone of Sin Inc.” “What?!” “Yes, your husband is the CEO of Sin Inc. The place you would go for an interview tomorrow.” Sinclair Stone was my husband and the interviewer on my report! I didn't know. But I wasn't to be blamed. Or maybe I was. If I had tried asking my parents about the man they had sold me off to, it would have prepared me to know I was wedding my, maybe future, boss.

"I am Alpha Ezekiel, this is the Bloodhound pack. And you are a rouge in my house, surrounded by my warriors, and my pack of 1500 men. You're not the one with the power here, I am. So when I ask a question I except it answered. Now. Who. Are. You?" I clenched my jaw in frustration, he was right. I had no power. No choice. He could do anything to me right now. And I wouldn't have any help or any way to stop him. I nearly reached at the thought. I was fucked. Royally. With that in mind I responded to his question; "Cecil." "And where did you came from? Are there any more like you?" He fired the questions in quick succession. "The East Coast, I travel alone and have not come across another fema

He smiles and then proceeds to l**k his arm with mine “Hey, Mr. Stefunny, get off! Let go of me! don't be insolent.” “If you really had paid attention, you would have realized that it is time for us to move forward and take our place on the improvised altar. My name is Stefano, not Stefunny” he says with a hint of irritation. “That's what I said, Mr. Stefunny”. He lets out a hiss, and I suppress the urge to laugh. ***

“Good. That gives us room to start negotiations.” That was it. Cold, safe, business talk. I could live with that. Halfway through the flight, he leaned a little closer and tapped his pen against the margin of the document I was reviewing. “Our client, Vivian Sinclair,” he said. “Heir to the Sinclair family business. You familiar with her?” I glanced up. “Heard of her. Rumor says she’s practically royalty in France. Smart, strategic, with a good reputation.” “And pretty,” he added, almost absentmindedly.

so bloody unimaginable. Mr. Daniel Mitchell, the stunning figure who commands the attention of everyone in town, including poor little fragile hearted me, is the source of my desires. With his salt-and-pepper curly red hair and piercing blue eyes, he possesses an air of wisdom and attraction that grabs my poor weak emotional heart. He is Lily's father, a pillar of the community and a respected businessman, and my affection for him is as you should know by now, a forbidden flame threatening to swallow me whole deep down within the depth of my soul.

"Granduncle, my apologies for keeping you waiting." As Marcia looked at the solemn-faced elder, she suddenly recognized him as Colby Sinclair, one of Sin Corporation's founders, along with Elijah's grandfather, Daniel Sinclair. The two brothers had built Sin Corporation from the ground up. After Daniel's death in a car accident years ago, Colby had handed over the company to Louis and retreated from the public eye with his family. Marcia had only seen a rare photo of Colby in an unpublished internal company magazine, and she wouldn't have recognized him otherwise.

The interior was even more opulent than the exterior, brimming with grand chandeliers dripping with crystals, lavish gold accents, and plush velvet furnishings that exuded luxury and sophistication. “The fact that you like this place,” he replied. Before I could come up with a response, he led us to the receptionist, who immediately perked up at the sight of him. Something shot through my veins—hot and fiery, like a flash of lightning, and I didn’t know what to make of it. Turning my attention to Clinton, I saw him grinning at her. Did he bring me here just to flirt with someone else? “Welcome, sir, to the Sterling Hotel, where luxury meets timeless elegance,” she sang, fluttering her lashes

If I did, he would never let go. Sadists were like that. And Leon was the biggest sadist I knew. ========= Marcus’ POV. “Who went to his office?” “Leon Ralis.” “Who the fuck is Leon Ralis?” “Son of Sir Sinclair, the billionaire whose fortune is steeped in the art world, leading philanthropist and donor for tech development.” I stared at Shaw, my consigliere. He held my gaze. I knew the name, Sinclair. But I couldn’t understand why his supposed son, who didn’t bear the family name, was visiting Jayden, when the other son, the younger one, who did, was already working with Jay, on whatever contract they had signed.