Novels by Bless Faru

I found him in his study.The heavy oak doors loomed before me, shut tight like a warning. A part of me wanted to turn back, to retreat into the cold safety of silence. But another part — the fiercer part that Isabella had awakened with her venom — refused to let her win.I pushed the doors open without knocking.Alexander stood by the window, framed in pale moonlight, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of whiskey. His reflection glimmered in the glass pane — tall, broad, immovable. He didn’t turn when I entered.“You’re brave,” he said, his voice low, dangerous, “or foolish, to come here without being summoned.”My breath caught, but I steadied it. “You left me no choice.”He finally turned, his eyes locking onto mine. They were unreadable, cold and sharp like shards of ice. “Everyone has a choice, Elena. You chose poorly tonight.”“I didn’t betray you.” My voice trembled, but I held his gaze. “I never would.”He sipped his drink, slow and deliberate, as though weighi

The dining room had never felt so vast, so suffocating, so cold. Chandeliers glittered overhead, casting light across polished silver and crystal glasses, but I couldn’t focus on any of it. The air was thick, humming with tension that seemed to coil around my throat.I stood in the doorway, my pulse pounding, while Isabella sipped her wine like a queen savoring her triumph.I forced my voice to stay steady. “What conversation?”Her smile deepened, sharp as glass. “The one between you and Mr. Harrington. He works in accounting, doesn’t he? Such a chatty man. He said you seemed… unusually curious about Alexander’s current negotiations.”My stomach dropped. Harrington. Yes, I’d spoken to him briefly in the hall, a polite exchange about how overwhelming the company’s affairs must be. But it had been harmless. Nothing more than small talk.Isabella leaned forward, her eyes glinting. “Of course, curiosity is one thing. But asking about numbers, about projected deals? That sounds less like c

I had always thought silence was my safest refuge. Growing up in a house where raised voices were rare, I learned quickly that stillness could shield you from storms. But silence with Alexander King was different. It wasn’t safety. It was suffocating. It pressed against me, filled every space between us until I wanted to claw at the air just to breathe again.Our marriage had been nothing more than a contract on paper, a shield for him and a cage for me. Yet the longer I lived under his roof, the more the lines blurred between obligation and something far more dangerous.That night, I found myself in the drawing room, seated by the grand piano though I couldn’t play a single note. The firelight flickered across the polished black surface, and I stared at my reflection—my face pale, my eyes haunted.The door creaked open, and I didn’t need to look up to know it was him. His presence filled a room long before his footsteps did.“Elena,” he said, my name low and rough in his voice.I lif

I had never realized how loud silence could be until I lived in Alexander’s mansion.The walls were too pristine, the chandeliers too polished, the marble too cold. Even the staff moved like shadows—polite, efficient, and distant—leaving only the echo of my thoughts to fill the emptiness.And lately, those thoughts had been consumed by him.Alexander.The man who was my husband, but not really my husband. My protector, but also my jailer. The man whose presence ignited a fire in me, and whose absence left me drowning in frost.We had been circling each other for weeks—teetering on the edge of something that wasn’t quite love, wasn’t quite war. A slow burn, dangerous and intoxicating. One moment he’d look at me with eyes that softened the iron mask he always wore, and the next he’d pull away as though I carried poison.And Isabella had noticed.I should have expected it. Alexander’s younger sister had always watched me like a hawk, her disdain sharpened into something more lethal than

The mansion had grown quieter since Alexander’s victory with Hartford. Quieter, but not calmer. Every corner hummed with a kind of unspoken tension, like the silence after a storm when you know another is brewing just beyond the horizon.And then there was him.Alexander moved through his empire with the same icy precision as always, but lately, I found myself noticing the things I wasn’t supposed to. The way his hand brushed the small of my back when we entered a room together. The way his gaze lingered when he thought I wasn’t watching. The way he listened—actually listened—when I spoke, even if his replies were curt.It was a dangerous sort of noticing. The kind that made my pulse race for reasons I couldn’t admit, not even to myself.That evening, I found myself in the library, pretending to read while stealing glances at him across the room. He sat by the fire, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened just enough to reveal the strong line of his throat. A glass of wh

The news broke before sunrise. My phone buzzed with alerts, and when I rolled over to check, the headline glared at me in bold letters:“King Industries Secures Hartford Mega-Deal, Outsmarts Callahan Global.”I sat up, heart pounding. The Hartford deal had been the holy grail of corporate warfare for months. Billions on the table, international influence, entire economies shifting depending on whose hand closed it. Damien had been the frontrunner—or so everyone thought. Until now.I glanced toward the balcony, where Alexander stood with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear, his voice sharp and measured. He was still in his shirt from last night, sleeves rolled up, dark hair slightly mussed, but there was no weariness in him. Only steel.“Yes,” he said curtly. “They caved. Send the terms to legal. I want the contracts signed before noon.”He hung up without a word of pleasantry. When he finally turned, his eyes found mine, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe. There was something