Mr. Crocker Novels & Stories

Standing among the high society crowd, I felt like an outsider, eagerly waiting for the night to draw to a close. As I sipped my juice, a woman in her late thirties or early forties gracefully seated herself opposite me. Not recognizing her, I offered a polite smile, suspecting she might be related to one of Jethro’s business partners. The woman struck up a conversation. "You're Mr. Jethro’s wife, correct?" "Yes, I am. And you are?" I answered, slightly caught off guard by her approach. "My husband is Lionel Hargreaves. He owns a real estate firm. I'm Eleanor." Her smile was inviting, encouraging a friendly exchange.

he said with an extreme control not to provoke her. Crysta looked at Eric with confusion, he nodded his heads. She turned to see the chained person and frowned as she could see the same person, her husband. “I missed you Crysta, I missed you and our family.” He cried making Crysta’s heart to tremble. “Stop your filthy drama, Draco” Steve yelled at the person before them. But the person looked at him with a disappointed look. “Stephen, you are here too? Were you the one protecting my family all these days?” he asked with full of gratitude.

“ What's your parent's name and occupation, also where do you live “ This handsome secretary whom due to the name tap I spotted on his office desk was Mr Henry Williams. “ My parents’ names are Mr. Patrick Allen and Mrs. Belinda Allen but they died when I was 6 years old “ I honestly told him and caught a hint of sadness on her face which he quickly masked away. This was why I never really liked opening up about my life, I hated being an object of pity, but I have no choice but to answer this nice woman because I need this job. With Chloe now out of my life things are gonna be quite difficult because Chloe’s parents are wealthy and she assisted me financially a lot but now that I cut her off

A smile spread on his lips when he clicked on the messages from his bank and saw the debit alerts, another following almost immediately. There was a ton of text from Tony too but Anderson's gaze settled on the last, *Now at the boutique, picking outfits..* Anderson hit the power button when he heard footsteps drawing towards him. "Mr. Anderson Riecke Horatio," the middle-aged man smiled, engaging him in a light hug, "your speech gave me so much assurance, I must commend you for it." "I only spoke the truth, Mr. Stones, thank you for your kind words. I look forward to your contribution to the project."

That didn't put her at ease. Mr. California held out a hand. "I'm Brock Archer. I just had to meet the chef behind these fantastic crepes." Accepting his enthusiastic handshake, she relaxed just a fraction. "I'm glad you enjoyed them, Mr. Archer." "Sit for a minute. And please, call me Brock." She didn't want to sit. She wanted to go back to her kitchen, but no matter what kind of a douchecanoe Jayson had been, he hadn't been wrong about being nice to the customers. So she slid into the chair across from him.

The man standing in front of me seemed ready to roar, but he stopped as soon as he recognized me, and the deep wrinkle that had taken half his forehead smoothed out, replaced by a broad, fake smile. “Miguel Carrascal?” He recognized me, and I knew who he was. “What brings you here?” He raised his hand as if to greet me, but my hands were busy holding and supporting Roberta while she moaned in pain. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same.” The smile faded from his face. He rolled his eyes and looked at Roberta standing beside me. The dean’s eyes widened comically. “What are you doing here, Miss Roberta?” He didn’t mention the wounds on her face or who had caused them. He even had the audacity t

“Come in.” A boisterous man with a temple tattoo and a shaved head stepped in. “Good day, Mr. Thatcher. I am Croft, and I was sent here by Mr. Armstrong.”

My patience was on the brink, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. “I never said it was a show,” he smiled at me, walking toward me without sparing a glance at the chicken in the form of a man on the floor. “I am actually amazed by your strength.” I didn’t blink as I stared at him while nodding at his words. I was somehow pleased that he was not on the side of Mr. Creepy. “What's your name?” he asked, still smiling at me.

taking another deep breath i slowly release it and walm down the stairs, The guy i now know is named Skyler watch's me as i descend the stairs before coming over to me as i reach the bottom. He holds out his hand and i graciously taking it "I'm Skyler, and might i say you look fucking delicious in those pants" i blush slightly not really knowing what to say other then to say thank you and introduce myself "I'm Harper and uh thanks" i give him a soft smile and walk past Nixon ignoring him completely.

**[Who is that on the second floor? Chris half guessed, half understood: “Someone’s on the second floor?” Elijah scowled, nodding. Chris glanced up in response, and his eyes fell on the dignified face of the old Cromwell patriarch: “Mr. Cromwell?! I didn’t expect him to come to LA.” **[No, not the old one—the young one!]** Elijah pointed toward the younger figure opposite Old Mr. Cromwell. Chris recognized the dark coat on Carl: “That’s the heir of the Jenkins family, the president of Jenkins Group, Carl. The guy who’s got resources to back us—super rich, super handsome!”