Novels by dorcasikpemosi

The hallway echoed with gunfire and chaos. The marble floor of the West Wing, once polished and perfect, now bore the scars of war bullet holes, shattered vases, and streaks of crimson.“Down!” Liam barked, grabbing Ariana by the wrist and pulling her behind the grand piano toppled on its side.Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, almost louder than the bullets slicing the air. “They’re inside the house,” she gasped, her breath ragged. “How the hell—”“They had the security codes,” Liam snapped, his eyes scanning the shadows for movement. “This wasn’t a breach. It was an invitation.”Ariana ducked lower as a bullet struck the piano’s wood, splintering it inches above her head. Her hands trembled. She’d been through bomb threats and political protests. Nothing like this.“Move on my signal.” Liam slid a sleek silver pistol from a holster under his shirt, his muscles flexing with calm precision. “Three... Two... Now!”They burst from cover, Liam leading, Ariana on his heels. As they tur

The door to the mansion opened just then.Ariana stormed out, backpack slung over one shoulder, sunglasses on even though the sun was down.She yanked open the passenger door instead of the back one this time and slid in, crossing her legs and folding her arms with theatrical irritation.“You’re still here?” she muttered.“I said I’d wait,” Liam replied smoothly.She gave him a side glance. “What are you, a robot?”He didn’t answer.Instead, he placed his hand on the ignition.She tilted her head at him and said, “You know you’re not any better than me, right? Just another puppet in my father’s kingdom. Dancing to strings.”She expected a reaction.But all she got was a quiet: “Seatbelt.”Ariana hissed, yanked the seatbelt into place.Then silence again.Until—A sharp screech cut through the air as a dark van swerved onto the driveway—fast. No license plate. No signal. No hesitation.Liam’s eyes flicked to the rearview.It was the same motorcycle from earlier—now parked across the ro

Liam adjusted the comm_linkHis jaw flexed.> “Mission is underway. Subject dropped off at campus. Defensive, spoiled, and volatile—just as her file suggested. Though I’m starting to think the file underplayed it.”The man at the other end chuckled dryly.> “You haven’t even been on the job 24 hours.”> “That’s enough to know she’s not going to make this easy. She thinks she’s in control—trying to provoke me into slipping.”A beat of silence.> “Don’t. You know what’s at stake.”Liam stared ahead at the steady stream of students walking by. Some glanced at the SUV, some didn’t. None of them could imagine the layers beneath this mission.> “Understood. I’ll update you again after pickup,” Liam said.> “Good. And Liam?”> “Yes, sir?”> “Don’t get too close. She’s not just a mission. She’s bait—whether she knows it or not.”The line went dead.Liam sighed, leaned his head back for a second, but didn’t close his eyes. He never did—not in public. Never while on duty. Especially not with he

Liam's POV: The night of the party The bass thumped like a heartbeat on steroids. Neon lights painted the walls of the club in wild streaks of red and violet, casting shadows on bodies grinding against one another like animals in heat. The smell hit Liam first—sweat, cheap perfume, and alcohol thick enough to choke on.He tugged the brim of his cap lower, adjusted the collar of his black leather jacket, and scanned the crowd through darkened lenses."Westbrook's girl just arrived," said Kellan through the earpiece. "She’s wearing red. Alone. Upper balcony, Liam didn’t respond. He already spotted her.Ariana Westbrook.She swayed with a reckless grace—long legs, fiery curls bouncing, eyes half-closed as if the world didn't matter. The spoiled heiress was everything her father warned him about. Unpredictable. Wild. A ticking time bomb waiting to detonate the Westbrook legacy.Liam made his way through the crowd, weaving between intoxicated bodies. His cover was airtight. To Ariana and

The First GlanceThe sound of polished shoes echoed against the marble foyer.Ariana stood at the top of the staircase, arms folded in rebellion, lips set in a scowl. The heels of her feet were bare against the warm wood. She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her silk shorts and oversized hoodie.Below, the front door clicked open.And he walked in.The man her father had apparently assigned to stalk her every move.But Ariana’s breath caught — just for a second.Tall.That was the first thing she noticed.The kind of tall that made ceilings nervous. He had to be 6’4, broad-shouldered and lean, like he belonged on a runway in Milan or stepping out of a luxury car commercial.His skin was a rich golden brown, kissed by the sun but polished like a man who knew his worth. His jaw was sharp, clean-shaven, and defined enough to cut glass. Dark brows sat over intense hazel eyes, eyes that looked like they’d seen too much and said too little.His black suit clung to him like it had been

The Price of One NightThe glass vase flew past Ariana Westbrook’s head and shattered against the wall behind her.“You want to destroy me, is that it?” her father’s voice thundered across the marble-floored living room. “You want to drag my name through the gutter with your madness?”She flinched but didn’t step back. Not this time.“Dad, it’s not what it looks like—”“Not what it looks like?” Victor Westbrook’s face was red with fury, veins pulsing at his temple as he jabbed a remote at the TV. “Look at this!”The screen lit up with a freeze frame from the now-viral video: Ariana, hair wild, body arched back in a drunken laugh, one heel in her hand, and a man’s lips pressed against hers as someone shouted in the background.The chyron read:“WESTBROOK’S DAUGHTER IN DRUNKEN SCANDAL — AGAIN”Ariana’s stomach twisted. Her palms curled into fists. “It was just a party. I was dragged into that kiss—”“Save it!” her father roared, pacing toward her in his silk robe like a storm in human f