Maxwell's House Of Books Novels & Stories

Maxwell said and cut the call. After that, Maxwell went to the bathroom and took a shower. He changed his clothes into a simple sweater and matching trousers. He sat on the couch and started checking emails on his laptop and everything that was related to all of his businesses. In a luxurious and beautiful house, a woman in her early 30s sat on the couch with her legs crossed on top of the other. She was beautiful with her chestnut long hair and dark brown eyes. She was surrounded by armed guards, as if she were a prisoner.

Unlocking it as quietly as possible, I tiptoe inside. The complete silence within the house makes my head spin from all the blood rushing to the top of my skull. “Maxwell?” I yell out into what seems like an empty house. No answer. I walk to the living room where the light was coming from. I expect to see Maxwell sitting on the couch, cast in the lamplight with that familiar brooding look on his face, but it’s empty. Maybe I left the light on by accident? Maybe Maxwell came back and turned it on? Maybe I messed things up so much he’s over it...over me? Or maybe he’s not here because I’m not supposed to be here.

MaxWell’s apartment was exactly as she had imagined it, and at the same time, completely different. It wasn’t a messy bachelor cave, nor an impersonal minimalist cubicle. It was a vast, open space with exposed brick walls, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with books, and enormous sliding windows that revealed a breathtaking view of the city lights. The polished concrete floor was warmed by rich, time-faded Persian rugs. The air smelled of leather, old paper, and a faint trace of the same whiskey he had been drinking at the party. It was the physical extension of him: solid, complex, full of history and shadowy corners waiting to be explored.

’’ When I gave a frantic shake of my head, he smiled even wider as if he intended to tease me even more. ‘‘Or perhaps we should pick one about your father…’’ he raised an eyebrow, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. ‘‘I’m sure it’s somewhere inside the shelf, too…’’ ‘‘Alex, don’t you dare!’’ But he already looked through the books once more, and I heaved a heavy sigh when I saw a book entitled William Maxwell: Zero to One. Wow! From the title itself, I could tell that dad started from zero when he built his business.

“And to Aunt Mina and Aunt Lorelai for also having a new home!” Mina, busy giving instructions to the caterer, waved and said, “Thank you! I thank the heavens for giving me such a capable son!” As for Lorelai, she was taking Maddox for a walk. She also waved and said, “We love our new home!” Maxwell had poured his heart into building the house. It was his project from the moment he got his first paycheck from Luxford Iron Pulse. He bragged about it and looked forward to its completion whenever he came home.

He orders, and we have no choice but to abide. It's not too long until we emerge from the forest and pull up to a mansion of a house, which I know all too well is Maxwell's pack house. Maxwell is a lavish man who likes expensive and extravagant things, and it reflects in the estate before us, glistening in the early morning sun as it appears above the horizon. Watching the sun come up makes me feel so tired. My body clock feels so off right now, I dont even know what day it is.

That same day when Maxwell got home, he continued with his investigation. Maxwell had always been the kind of person who did his best thinking at midnight. The penthouse was dark except for the blue-white glow of the laptop screen and the city blinking below the windows. He had been sitting at the kitchen island for four hours straight. His takeout food and coffee were long cold beside him, three notebooks were open, and a browser window with forty-seven tabs packed end to end. He had been looking into the Zenith group. But there was an issue.

he told the people around him, including his mother, Selene, who looked at him questioningly but didn't hold back. Renata gave him a disappointed look, but she couldn't help it. Maximilian walked through the large hallway of the house, towards the Kingsley library - a place where he could calm his mind. He always felt comfortable there, among the rows of thick, decades-old books. Entering the room, she took a deep breath and let the silence envelop her. She stood in front of the bookshelf, her finger tracing the spine of the books before she chose one. Just as he sat down in the chair by the window, a soft knock came from the door. Maximilian turned to see Christian appear from behind the do

A little after three o’clock, he broke me. “Mr. Carrow,” Maxwell said, not bothering to look away from his screen. “I need you to go to my apartment. My housekeeper is there. There is a contract on my desk inside the study. A blue folder. Bring it to me right now.” My whole body went cold. *His home.* His private space. The one place where he had no defenses, and where I, as his assistant, could really learn his secrets. This was the exact chance I had wanted at the beginning. Now, the idea made me feel sick.

“Xander… this is a palace.” He chuckled. “Welcome to my childhood.” A butler opened the door, bowing slightly. “Mr. Stone. Miss Williams. Welcome.” Xander held June’s hand tightly as they walked in. The grandeur of the home was even more impressive inside vaulted ceilings, glistening chandeliers, oil paintings of old patriarchs on the walls, and the faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne hanging in the air. Then came the sound of footsteps. Maxwell descended the staircase with the commanding presence of a man who had once run boardrooms with a mere look. Salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, eyes sharp and calculating.