Novels by Joy Amala

I couldn't stop staring at the last sentence, Soren knows who killed me, my father's words blurred, I read them again an again, they didn't change. Soren stood across the room, watching my face, “what else does it say?” I folded the letter before he could see how badly my hands were shaking, “nothing,” his eyes narrowed, “Nyla,” I stepped back.For the first time since I'd met him, I wanted distance between us and Soren noticed, “you think I killed your father.” It wasn't a question but I hated how easily he could read me. “I think my dead father warned me not to trust you.”“And you believe him,” he saidI waited before answering again, "because he was my father,” Soren looked away, that hurt more than an argument would have, “did you know about the letter, and do you know he'd written something for me?”“No," he replied. I stared at him, “then why would he write that?” Soren didn't answer, I waited but he said nothing, my anger rose again, “that's what I thought.” I turned toward

For a second I forgot how to breathe, I stared at Soren, waiting for him to take the words back, he didn't. My father's death had never been something I questioned.Eight years ago, I was told there was an accident, I had accepted it because I was young, because my mother had been shattered, because there had been nothing else to believe, now Soren stood in my father's study and was tearing that certainty apart with four words, “what happened to him?” Soren's eyes moved to the photograph in my hand, “your father was dying before the accident."My forhead creased, “that doesn't make sense because my father wasn't sick,” Soren stepped closer, “you didn't know everything about his health,” I shook my head, “no, I would've known.” Soren's gaze held mine, “would you?” The question hurt more than it should have, I looked away.My father had always been private, even when I was young, there had been parts of his life I wasn't allowed near, business meetings behind closed doors, phone calls h

For a moment, I couldn't move, someone had broken into the archives, the place where I'd spent the last hour digging through records connected to my father and Soren was telling me they were looking for me, “how do you know?” Soren was already moving, “come with me.”I followed him out of the office as he was walking very faster, "wait Soren,” he didn't stop.He finally turned, “were they looking for me because of my father?” his expression gave me nothing, “I don't know, am trying to get you somewhere safe.”My expression changed, why is he trying to get me somewhere safe, have I done anything wrong? what is really happening, my heart was beating so fast as I stopped, "I don't need,” I turned back. “Nyla,” his voice stopped me, “stay close.” The way he said it made me listen.We reached the elevator, Soren pressed the button, I looked at him, “did anyone get hurt and did you see who did it?"“No, he replied.I became so curious, "then how do you know they were looking for me?” The el

I read the sentence again, If anything happens to me keep Soren Calder away from my daughter. My father's handwriting and my father's warning.And Soren Calder was standing three feet away from me. “What happened between you and my father because am not leaving until you tell me," Soren didn't answer, I looked at him, he let out a short breath, “you're supposed to start work Monday,” my grip hardened around the paper, “did my father hate you and why did he write this?” Soren's eyes dropped to the note, “because he had a reason.”I stared at him, “you expect me to believe that?” His calmness irritated me more than an argument would have, I pushed the paper toward him. “Then tell me what you do know. ”Soren picked it up, “my father and yours were partners.”“You said they worked together," I asked.He sat up properly closer, “they did more than that.” I waited, but he didn't continue, “that's it?”He leaned back to his sit again, “for today," I almost laughed, “there's nothing normal ab

Nyla AvenorThe first time I met Soren Calder, he told me I was fired, I hadn't even started working yet, I stared at him across the enormous desk, waiting for the joke, it didn't come. “I'm sorry?” Soren Calder finally looked up from my resume, he was younger than I had expected, maybe early thirties. Dark hair, sharp features, and the kind of expensive suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent, his expression remained completely blank.“You heard me.I looked around his office, maybe I had walked into the wrong room, “I was told to report here for an interview and you're firing me?”“Yes,” he said, I let out a short breath,“ this is my first time meeting you and how did you decide I'm fired?” his eyes dropped to the resume in front of him, “your qualifications.” I almost laughed, I had spent years working toward this position.I had stayed late, taken terrible projects, worked weekends, and built a portfolio that had finally gotten the attention of one of the biggest deve