Simon Vance Books Novels & Stories

“You're avoiding the question, Grace! You're trying to make me look stupid! Answer the question! He doesn't want to be friends with me again, right?” After my outburst she had a somewhat sad expression on her face before she gently wiped my tears away from my face before taking my hand in hers. “You might want to sit down for this one, dear” “I'm confused, Grace. Why?” “Please just sit”. She said while she slowly guided me down to the mat. “Thank you. Where is Simon? And I'm seated right now aren't I? So tell me, what happened to him?” “Victoria, Simon is dead”

Close enough to see everything that mattered. Simon’s attention never left Chelle. The way he listened. The way his hand hovered at her back, protective without thinking. Chelle tilted toward him as if it were instinct, as if she’d always belonged in that space. Victoria’s gaze narrowed. She’d questioned it before—briefly but dismissed it . Simon didn’t make reckless choices. He valued image. And he would never cross a line with an assistant. An intern. That assumption had kept her comfortable. Now, watching them, comfort slipped.

His sleeves were rolled up, exposing tattooed veins along his forearms. God. Why was that so attractive? The office itself was dark and masculine. Black shelves lined with books. Whiskey bottles glinting beneath warm lighting. Simon turned suddenly and I held my breath. His eyes landed directly on me and sharpened immediately. The silence stretched for one dangerous second before he spoke back into the phone. “I'll call you tomorrow.” Then he ended the call. I stepped backward instinctively . “Sorry, I was just looking for the kitchen.” Simon studied me silently. His gaze traveled slowly downward. Bare legs, tiny shorts, barefoot. The look in his eyes darkened almost imperceptibly.

I then crumpled the napkin in my fist and tossed it into a nearby flower trash can. We had to make even the tiny unappealing thing look appealing, like a mean girls antique. I smoothed my hair, straightened my shoulders, and waited for her to get down for the car. Simone Vance was tall and slender, with dark skin and hair that fell in loose waves past her shoulders. She wore a white dress that hugged her body, simple and elegant, and diamond earrings that caught the light every time she turned her head.

he was grinning and happy to see him. “And who is this beautiful lady? I’m Simon,” He winked at me before offering for a handshake. He seemed a joyful person, opposite of Brent’s attitude. Before I could reach for his hand “No touching Vasquez!” Brent interrupted and I even heard him hiss. “Damn Davis, I never thought you could be this possessive, huh? Simon chuckled and shook his head.

With those twinkling blue eyes and those dimples that deepened when his smile widened. “Darcie.” I finally found my voice, extending my hand formally. Which just made me even more embarrassed. What did I have to go and do that for? I was about to drop it when his fingers curled around my palm, his other hand coming to rest on top, so my one small hand was trapped between both of his. “Darcie Summers, Mr Havoc.” I gave him a nervous smile because what else could I do? The man-made me nervous. There was no getting away from that.

Laura Anthony I woke up startled hearing Simon's voice. That afternoon hadn't been out of my head for thirteen years. It was our last game together. After that day, my uncle Thomas and Simon's father, Mr. Richard, announced that they were going to New York to start a security company. The two had worked together as bodyguards for at least fifteen years , but wanted to have a business of their own. They planned, they saved, they really prepared for that dream.

If he were ever to fall for a woman, it would probably be Laura. "Alright," he finally agreed. "I'll make arrangements in the next couple of days." Laura beamed. And for the first time, a glimmer of hope returned to her eyes. Simon, however, had an unreadable expression. That afternoon, while Laura was fast asleep after taking her medicine, Simon left the house. … At Haven City Prison, Simon had pulled some strings to arrange a meeting with Harry. Harry didn't know Simon, nor did he recognize him. Simon introduced himself. "Hello, my name is Simon. I'm Anthony Moore's son."

At this moment, on the third floor… "Danny, I accepted the supplies. Simon is dead, and he's not coming back. That's the end of it. Stop dwelling on it," Monica said. "Stop dwelling on it? That was my brother!" Danny roared. Before the apocalypse, Simon had never been a good person. He ran around with a pack of lowlifes, harassed people, picked fights, and relied on his family's money to cause endless trouble. His parents had been sent to the hospital more than once because of him, and he never cared.

Simon was an asshole, who thought if he had money and power and resources like he did, he could do whatever he wanted to do with whoever he wanted to do it with. But now, after talking to Danika about it and seeing Richard again, she was starting to think twice about her decision. The fact that she wanted to hurt Richard in the same way he hurt her was driving her crazy. Making her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling. Making her think things she shouldn’t be thinking. Simon Walsh was Richard’s uncle. A very powerful and influential man in the business world. Someone who could destroy Richard in a second. But would he really do that just because she asked for it? Would he help her get even w