Novels by Shalom Makinde

FIORAI lean in even more,my ears pressing against the door of Alder's office“Make sure you keep an eye on him..I want daily update on what is going on at his firm, don't let him out of your sight “his stern voice comes from the other side and I have no doubt that his words have something to do with me or my familyI can't shake off the eerily feeling that he's planning something.something big which is why I need to get out of here so I can warn my sister and uncle…I don't care if they don't want to listen,I'll find a way to make them.The door gives way and that's when I realise I'd been putting all my weight on the door’s handleI loose my balance and fall unto his office’s floor face first.A giggle breaks free and I immediately bite my lower lip in an attempt to stop itShit“Get it together Fiora”i whisper to myself.Maybe getting drunk before coming to confront this man was a terrible ideaThe room is exactly what I expected: sleek, sophisticated, and entirely too cold. Dark floo

FIORA“Happy posthumous birthday mom”I whisper to the little polaroid picture in front of me as a single teardrop escapes,tracing a path down my cheek.if she were alive,Mom would have been 49 today.I thought I had gotten over mom's death,thought I had buried the grief deep enough to stop it from resurfacing. That's what mom would have wanted.but anytime this day comes around,the sadness returns,wrapping tightly around me like an old,familiar cloak.I cannot help the several thoughts that rush through my head whenever I think of her.The sound of her laughter, the way she held me when I was scared, the warmth of her presence,they all come flooding back,overwhelming me. And with them,the unshakable ache of knowing she’s gone forever.Orange juice has always been my little coping mechanism on days like this.Somehow,it made me feel closer to her..Oranges were mom's favorite fruits,we always had a fresh batch waiting for us every morning before school and it was honestly the highlight of

It's been three days. Seventy-two hours to be precise,since my wife last let food cross her lips.. Usually I wouldn't give a fuck about hers or anyone else's dietary needs but with an important event approaching,I can't risk her collapsing from starvation.it would be disastrous for my image Said wife is on the other side of my massive kitchen staring daggers at me.if looks could kill I'll be long dead. “If you've got something to say,just say it”I say,my focus still on the article about stocks I was reading She simply ignores me,like she's been doing since our wedding night along with the trays of food I had asked my cook to send up to her room. Instead,she heads to the refrigerator for a bottle of orange juice she takes every morning like some sort of ritual “Don't bother”I take a bite of caesar salad “I ask Helen and Margaret to get rid of every single drop.Orange juice is officially banned from this mansion till further notice” Slowly,she turns to face me,her lethal

ALDER I wait a few minutes then follow after her to the room that started it all..The room I forced her to marry me in.. My wife has changed out of her reception dress into a purple satin nightgown and her hair is packed into a ponytail…Her gown is fitted at the bust and free from the waist down..The gown reveals half of her boobs and her nipples pucker against the satin material.Desire and lust builds within me as I run my gaze over her porcelain skin. She goes still upon seeing me,her face turning a deep shade of crimson “What are you doing here?” “I am your husband I have every right to be here”I reply trying to sound unaffected by the erotic sight before me Her throat works up in a swallow as I take slow and measured steps towards her “S..stay back,don't come any closer”she picks up a pillow and attempts to use it as a barrier between us but I yank it out of her hand and fling it across the room “Why should I? Newlyweds are suppose to consummate their marriage on thei

ALDER “The world is your playground” I live by this saying. To me, the world is nothing more than a chessboard, and everyone in it—just pieces waiting to be moved. Each step is calculated, every person a pawn that I can maneuver carefully and strategically, knowing that in the end, there can only be one winner. And that winner is always me. Being on the street for two years shaped me into the man I am today..I don't need permission and I don't make apologies. Just like a master chess player,I know precisely when to strike Enriqué made a big mistake by thinking he could destroy my family and walk away without any consequences. I made it my life's mission to make him pay for every single ounce of pain he made 10 year old me feel it turned out to be more difficult than I thought. Enriqué is a very clever man,he was always two steps ahead and managed to slip out of my grasp every fucking time.He made sure to keeps his family and personal life away from the public eye and tha

FIORA Before I can say anything,loud footsteps approach us.My head whips up to stare at the devil still dressed in a grey suit and louboutin shoes. Darkness rolls off his shoulders like smoke crawling into my lungs.His face is a map of bruises and he has a massive black eye “You have a lot of guts to show your face here after what you've done”Eleana hisses as she turns to face Alder “Let me remind you…we're family now, and anything that involves my wife involves me too." “Don’t you dare take another step”Eleana steps in his way but she is no match for his brute strength..he pushes her with little effort and she stumbles backwards but I catch her just in time before she reaches the ground “Motherfucker! how dare you touch her!!”Uncle Ricardo raises his fist to strike Alder “I won't try that if I were you”Alder warns “unless you want to end up like your brother” “You are not going to get away with this,I will make sure you pay for ever even looking in my family's direction,see yo