Steve Harrington Novels & Stories

He would never tell me his actual name, so I just called him Steve. Steve was a Vietnam veteran and had a rough go at life, especially after the war. So many years of untreated PTST, compounded with all the trauma of losing everyone and everything he knew, violence of living on the streets in a big city, all eventually left Steve suffering from paranoia. The man had the kindest heart I had ever felt, and everyone in his life still abandoned him. His sorrow when he was thrust into memories of the war still haunt me. With the guilt he felt when he talked about the lives of the innocents he couldn’t save, I knew there was no way he would have hurt anyone, much less a child.

She was also, she realized, ten weeks along, and the tiredness had begun to carry a faint extra weight, like a coat with something heavy in the pocket. "A moment, if you can spare it," said Harrington, from the door. He was a tall, spare man with a face like a weathered post and the gentle, level voice of someone who had spent forty years telling captains things they did not want to hear. He closed the door behind him. He did not sit. He stood in front of her desk, with his hands clasped behind his back, and looked, for a man of such composure, almost unhappy. "I have been turning over whether to say this for two days," he said. "I have decided that the answer is yes. I would be a poor frien

Alpha’s men learn to do that; it makes the rest easier. Her eyes flicked to me once. If there was surprise, she swallowed it like bad medicine. “That name doesn’t belong to me anymore,” she said. Her voice was even, but it didn’t chase the sound. It sat. It waited. I took a step forward. “I’m Hunter. I work for Alpha Xavier. There are some things that I…”

Season 2 Starts: Victor was in his study, his hands trembling as he drank another glass of alcohol. Olivia’s absence was like a huge wound, and no amount of alcohol could numb the pain. He was about to pour himself another drink when his phone buzzed on the table. He ignored it at first, but the nonstop ringing forced him to pick it up. “Hello?” he snapped; his voice rough. “Mr. Harrington,” a voice on the other end said urgently. “There’s been an accident. Olivia... she’s in the hospital.”

Selena’s POV I knew that face. Dante Harrington. The first son of the Harrington family. Their heir. The one the tabloids called The Devil of Eastbridge. He stood at the far end of the hall like he owned the oxygen. Even with the buzz of conversation around him, the air felt… still. Heavy. His presence sucked the noise out of the room like a vacuum. Dressed in a tailored black suit that looked like it was stitched from silence itself, he was tall, sharp-jawed, and cold-eyed. Those eyes, steel gray and merciless, looked like they’d watched empires burn and felt nothing.

Murmuring rose in the crowd as a lot of them agreed to the statement. Sebastian tapped the microphone until the crowd fell into a hush, and he continued. "I know a lot of you are familiar with the inner workings of a business, but we are not here to discuss that. Today, the reins of Harrington Holdings will be changing as I am placing someone that I know will be able to push us to greater heights. He may have his faults; I mean, don’t we all, since we are all humans? But I have seen him work, and I know how much of a hard worker he is. I believe I can sleep well knowing that the company is in safe hands. Please help me make welcome. Nicholas Harrington. The new CEO of Harrington Holdings."

replied the person at the other end of the call before the call ended. Mr Wellington smiled and continued drying his hair as he got ready for bed. He had asked they get Steve Horn, the world's best hacker to handle Mrs Haward's man. He knew how Steve worked. Steve will not block the hacker in the system, but he will direct the hacker in the system to information he only wants the hacker to have. He intended to get Mrs Haward false information without her even realizing it.

Michael asked me still shocked. "I am your brother, I know everything about you, Lincoln," I replied and his anger was slowly replaced with anxiety. I couldn’t help but feel pity for my brother when I saw the pain in his eyes. This is why I don't want to answer his question as to why I hide the truth about our parent's death from him. During Lincoln's last year in the University, after he's done being the football team's waterboy and decided to go back to the locker room, he witnessed the captain of the football team sexually harassing the front girl of their cheerleading squad inside the private locker room for the football team. Lincoln interrupt them and save the girl but the captain wasn

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But if a woman actually managed to shake your ice cold ass, I’d love to meet her. Hell, she might be my new favorite person.” I shake my head, staring out the window as the city skyline comes into view. I don’t do complications. And she screams complication. About two hours later, we arrive at the venue for the meeting. Harrington is exactly what I expect; a self absorbed bastard in his late fifties, dressed in a three piece suit that probably costs less than my watch but carries himself like he owns the goddamn city. He sits across from me in the dimly lit private dining room of the restaurant, swirling his whiskey like he has all the time in the world.

The single clap echoed through the silent ballroom. Everyone turned. An older man stood near the back of the room, dressed in a dark tailored suit. His silver hair was combed neatly, his expression thoughtful rather than shocked. Victor’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Mr. Harrington,” he said slowly. Several reporters whispered the name. Arthur Harrington. One of Vale Corporation’s largest shareholders. If he spoke, the board listened. Harrington continued clapping slowly as he walked forward.