Novels by Korede Raheem

Eliana's POVI was a law-abiding citizen, but if anyone could drive me to mariticide, it was my future husband.I hated his arrogance, his rudeness, and the mocking way he called me Princess.I hated the way my pulse kicked at the rough span of his hand around my neck.And I hated how he always seemed larger than life, like the molecules of any space he entered had to fold in on themselves to accommodate him.Are. We. Clear?His maddening voice echoed in my head.It was clear, all right. It was clear that Alexander Grayson was Satan in a Tom Ford suit.I forced my lungs to expand past the burn of my anger. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.Only when my blood pressure settled back into semi-human levels did I open the door to my new room instead of hunting down the sharpest knife I could find.As promised, a business card with Alexander’s assistant’s number and a black Amex waited on the nightstand next to a red velvet ring box. When I popped open the lid, a six-carat diamond

Alexander’s POV.I sent Eliana the information she needed for her move at precisely noon on Sunday. Not out of fear she’d cause a scene in front of my building, but out of reluctant admiration for the stunt she’d pulled at my club.It turned out the delicate little rose had some steel in her spine after all.The following weekend, Eliana showed up at my house again, this time with an army of movers in tow.Cora, my housekeeper, and Raymond, my butler, took charge of guiding the movers through the apartment while I led Eliana to her room.Neither of us spoke, and the silence expanded with each step until it became a living, breathing entity between us.Annoyance wormed its way into my chest.Eliana had been perfectly friendly to Cora, Raymond, and the rest of my staff, whom she’d greeted with warm smiles and fucking cookies from Levain. But when she got to me, she’d shut down like I was the one moving into her house and disrupting her carefully planned life.Like I was the one who’d sh

Eliana’s POVI had three rules going into this photoshoot. Do not kiss him.Do not look like you want to kiss him.Do not let anyone capture photographic evidence that suggests rules one or two were ever in danger.By the time we finished the first pose, I was failing all three.The studio was a minimalist’s wet dream—concrete floors, massive white walls, lighting so soft it could turn a mugshot into Vogue-worthy glamour. The team buzzed around us with designer enthusiasm: makeup artists retouching my lipstick, stylists tugging on Alexander’s lapels, the photographer shouting things like “YES! That’s it! Give me that tension!”Tension, huh?We had it in spades.Not the romantic kind. The kind where you fantasize about setting someone’s shirt on fire while making out with them against a wall.Alexander hadn’t said much since we arrived. He didn’t need to. His silence was louder than most people’s shouting.He looked good. Annoyingly good.Black suit. Crisp white shirt. The top button

Eliana’s POVThe Grayson Manhattan office building was so sleek and over-designed it looked like a Bond villain’s second home.Marble everywhere. Mirrors polished to a criminal shine. And enough subtle security to make me feel like I’d accidentally walked onto a CIA black site in heels.I stood at the reception desk in a navy dress that said “future wife of a billionaire” and not “woman who was planning his elegant murder last night.”“Miss Rivera,” the assistant said with a polite, practiced smile. “Mr. Grayson is expecting you. They’re already upstairs with the planner.”Of course they were. He was already here.Which meant he had the upper hand. Again.I smiled sweetly and followed her into the elevator, already bracing myself for whatever version of Alexander I’d meet today—The Ice King? The Arrogant Tease? The One I Secretly Fantasized About Despite Hating Him?We stepped into a bright lounge overlooking Central Park. A massive whiteboard was covered in mock-ups of wedding venues

Eliana's POV“I’m sorry. You’re marrying who?”Katherine’s voice hit an octave only dogs and divas could hear.“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, glancing around the café. “This place is crawling with people who donate to my father’s foundation. If one of them hears I’m being bartered off like a Birkin bag in a tax write-off, he’ll have a full-blown aneurysm.”“I’m not whispering until you explain to me what the hell is happening.” Katherine leaned over the table like we were conspiring to rob a royal bank. “You’re marrying Alexander Grayson? The Alexander Grayson?”“That’s what the press release will say,” I murmured, stirring my coffee even though I had no intention of drinking it.“The same man who once shut down a tech startup by accident and didn’t apologize?”“It was a strategic acquisition. The founder failed to read the fine print.”“Oh my God, Eliana. He’s basically a Bond villain with a better skincare routine.”I gave her a look. “And your point?”“My point is—since when do

Alexander's POV Damien looked like he wanted to bolt.Christian looked like he was calculating how much longer until Damien got disowned.I looked like I always did: calm.“You’re engaged?” Damien said again, like repeating it might change the answer.“To Eliana Rivera,” I confirmed, sharp and unbothered.Christian’s brow ticked up. “Wow. So it’s officially that kind of day.”He didn’t sound surprised. Then again, he’d been in on the damage control meetings. He knew exactly what was at stake.“I—what?” Damien sputtered. ”Since when? You haven’t been seeing anyone seriously, and now you’re engaged?”“Since three days ago,” I said.Christian leaned forward, fingers steepled loosely in front of him. “Let’s be clear. This isn’t about love. This is about Cassian Rivera having leverage and Alex eliminating it before it hits daylight.”“I already said I was sorry—” Damien tried.“You saying it doesn’t make it less useless,” I cut in. My voice stayed low, but the chill in it could've flash-f