Max Goodwin Novels & Stories

Currently, the three founders of MAC Capital Management are sitting on the roof of their office building. They spend time here after work. They sat around a small table with a crystal whiskey decanter, a small bowl of nuts and dried fruit to snack on, and three glasses. Not far from where they sat, there were their used dinner plates piled up. "I didn't think that I would be able to lose to Aramis Winter." Max muttered to himself. He sounds so pitiful. "I, Maximilian Myers, lost to someone like Aramis. He, who has always been known not to have enough brains to think that way, was able to beat me."

Drinking up the red wine in the glass, Gavin smiled wildly: "Who told you that Mr. Maxwell was so naturally charming that it caused these women to scramble for something, cold and deep, do you mean it?" The smoking man was also named. He smiled slightly, and there was a calmness of the superiors: "Okay, it's okay to close the door, let's just say it, Maxwell, is it true that you were dropped? "

She was all looking a little tired. "2.1 million!" I called. "2.1, do I have any advances?" "2.2!" "2.5!" I called. "2.5 million, any advances on 2.5 million dollars?" For once there was silence. I looked around and then up at Kate, who was shocked herself. "Going once. Going twice...sold for 2.5 million dollars to Alpha Timothy Shaw!" I watched as Kate was lead off to the sold area and I got up to go get her and go home. I didn't want any others than her.

" Cool man. Elly bowed her head and turned to leave, she already knew the outcome, but after all, the editorial office belonged to her cousin, who was the editor, so she tried to say a word, but it seemed useless. When she learned that she was working as an assistant for a young CEO returning from abroad, she was extremely overjoyed. Yesterday, when she was going to meet him, she carefully prepared her appearance to greet him. Unexpectedly, he didn't glance at her, and she nodded and asked her out. He's handsome but he's really cold. Mark has been away from this place for ten years, and now that he's back, he's no longer the naive young man he used to be. Originally, he didn't want to go bac

Becky purrs in my ear like a satisfied cat. “Got it, angel.” “Your foundation money?” I ask. “Drake’s.” “Harbormere sends ‘Clean Water’ grants,” she says, cheeks mottling. “Maxwell sells consulting to himself. Drake launders ‘youth health’ through the hospital gala and pays Sable on the back end in favors. There’s a locker at Dock 9, Maxwell keeps his foxhair there because it makes him feel dangerous.” “Combination?” I ask. “His daughter’s birthday,” she says, disgusted. “Men like him learn three numbers and call it security.”

"And what about Lottie's grandad? Do you know what happened to him, where he went?" "Yeah, Max stayed here with us. Sadly, 9 months later he died in his sleep but I'm glad that he got to stay with Lottie until the end. We cremated him and we had his ashes put in a necklace for when Lottie was older. I also kept a photo of both of them for her. He loved her so much and I've always made sure that she knows that." "Does she know about her mom?"

“Fine! You win, Chef Max. Enjoy your imaginary Michelin star. I can never stoop down to your level in this.” Max bowed dramatically, grinning ear to ear. “Thank you. I’d like to dedicate this win to my loyal audience... Miss Veronica Whitmore, who believed in my skills before the critics did.” “Oh my god,” I said, clutching my stomach from laughing. “You’re both crazy.” Theo looked at me then, smiling sweet as ever. His golden hair had some lettuce that Max probably threw at him, and said, “You see what I deal with every day?” Max only smirked, leaning casually against the counter, a piece of bread between his teeth. “I made your life interesting, admit it. Otherwise, you have turned dead bo

Max comes out last, walking with the unbothered casualness of a session musician who’s decided the party is no longer fun. We’re well away from the property before the first press van comes up the country lane. They beat the cops there by five minutes. In the back of the car I press my finger to the comm. "Saint. Status on Tariq and Ray." All wrapped up. They’re on the A303 now. No unforeseen interruptions. Both jobs were clean. I can practically hear the Because my boyfriend’s a genius he’s holding back. "Good." Max is behind Oba's seat with his extensions falling into his face. He’s pulling them out, one strand at a time, with more concentration than he gives sniping someone.

Poor Mia, Max's once beautiful and talented secretary spoke in low tone sprinting out of the glass door. After she left Nelson huffed a sigh and looked at the file in his front. It has been two months to Max's death. Ever since then, everything he owned was transferred in the name of a new boss, Nelson Mendez, who was none other than the mafia king's one of the doggie-like loyal men and his daughter's real boyfriend.

Three days later, the news came. Clara had been found in her room. She was gone. The official cause of death was an "accidental overdose." I was in the garden trimming my roses. I didn't even pause my shears. "Ma'am," the housekeeper said carefully, "there's other news… Dante Moretti has stepped down as the heir. He's volunteered to manage the family's remote assets in Alaska. They say… he'll be gone for three years." I nodded, my focus on a perfect red bloom. It was as crimson as blood.