Novels by Gbemiè

~The Hit~ The evening had arrived, and the air buzzed with anticipation as Andrés and Joyce prepared to head to the grand launch of the new company. The event was being held at an opulent hotel ballroom in the heart of the city, the perfect venue to mark such a significant milestone. Every detail had been meticulously planned, from the décor to the guest list, and tonight promised to be unforgettable. Joyce stood in her room, smoothing out the sleek black gown she'd chosen for the evening. Its modest yet elegant design complemented her figure, and she paired it with a simple silver necklace. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, ensuring every strand of hair was in place. Tonight wasn't just about Andrés; she wanted to make a good impression, too. Downstairs, Andrés waited, already dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. He stood by the living room window, checking his watch. His usually composed demeanor showed a flicker of nerves

~I'm Sorry~ Her brows furrowed as she looked up at him. "You keep saying that, but you're not giving me any reason to stop worrying." "I don't owe you a reason," he said, though his words lacked the bite they might have carried in other circumstances. "You're my employee, Joyce, not my keeper." The words stung, and he seemed to notice because he sighed and added, "Look, I'll be fine. Go to bed. You've had a long day." She hesitated, her mind racing with questions she knew he wouldn't answer. Finally, she took a step back, her expression guarded. "Fine," she said quietly. "But if you're in some kind of trouble-" "I'm not," he interrupted. "Now, goodnight." He turned and walked toward the staircase, leaving her standing in the living room. Joyce watched him go, her eyes drifting back to the faint stain on his collar. Something wasn't right. She could feel it. But as

~In Cold Blood~ Finally, the man behind the hit and Run of Joyce was caught. He was strapped to a chair in a hidden location. The warehouse was dimly lit, with a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting shadows on the walls. The air was thick with tension as Mateo, Andrés's most trusted bodyguard, stood near a restrained man tied to a metal chair. The man's face was bruised, his clothes disheveled from a scuffle during his capture. The sound of Andrés's car screeching to a halt outside echoed through the building. Moments later, the heavy door swung open, and Andrés strode in, his expression cold and calculating. "Is this him?" Andrés asked, his voice low and sharp. "Yes, boss," Mateo replied, stepping aside to reveal the man. Andrés studied the man in silence for a moment, his hands in his pockets. The man avoided his gaze, his head hanging low. "What's your name?" Andrés asked, his tone eerily calm. The man didn't respond. "I asked you a question," Andrés said, stepping

~Sensational~ Andrés drove through the quiet streets leading to his estate, the day's events playing on a loop in his mind. The long driveway, lined with trimmed hedges and bright garden lights, came into view. His estate was massive, with tall iron gates that opened smoothly as his car approached. It was the kind of place that screamed wealth and power, but to Andrés, it was just home. Pulling up to the front steps, he sat in the car for a moment, staring at the grand double doors. He usually felt relief when he got home, but tonight, a strange unease crept over him. Shaking it off, he stepped out, his shoes clicking softly against the stone driveway. The staff were already waiting. The butler opened the door for him, giving a polite nod. "Good evening, sir. Would you like dinner served now?" "Not yet, Marcel. I need a moment," Andrés said, walking past him into the house. The place was spotless as always, every piece of furniture perfectly in place. The silence inside was heavy,

~Another Day~ Andrès stepped out of the front door of his estate, the morning sun casting long shadows across the driveway. His sleek black car idled nearby, the driver already holding the door open. He adjusted the cuff of his shirt and slid into the backseat, nodding to the driver. "Hospital," he said simply, pulling his phone from his pocket. The ride was quiet, the hum of the engine and the blaring of impatient drivers the only sound as they wove through the city streets. Andrès tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, though his mind was elsewhere. When they pulled into the hospital parking lot, he stepped out before the driver could circle around to open the door for him. Inside, the sterile scent of disinfectant hit him immediately, sharp and familiar. He approached the reception desk, his polished shoes clicking against the tiled floor. "Joyce Mayers," he said to the receptionist, his voice low but firm. The woman looked up, clear

~Stay With Me~ The next morning, Andrès walked briskly down the sterile white halls of the hospital, his shoes echoing against the polished floor. He was anxious to see Joyce-hoping she was doing better already and eager to speak with her face-to-face. When he reached her room, he knocked softly and then entered, finding her sitting up in bed, looking much more alert than the day before. She glanced up at him with a faint smile. "You look better," he said with a hint of relief, moving closer to her bed. "How are you feeling?" "Like I've been hit by a truck," Joyce replied, managing a chuckle. "But honestly, a lot better than yesterday. They've been giving me enough medication to make sure I'm not in too much pain." He nodded, pleased to hear it. "Good. I didn't sleep much last night, worrying about you." Joyce raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise passing across her face. "I didn't realize I was that important." Andrès hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Joyce, someone clea