Novels by Flavour_ogb

FREYA'S POVThe golden hour had just passed, leaving behind a soft, honeyed glow that filtered through the expansive glass walls of the banquet hall. From my place near the entrance, I watched as the final touches were being placed—florists adjusting centerpieces, staff setting wine glasses at perfect angles, strings of lights humming softly above us like stars caught mid-breath.It was magical. The way everything shimmered with purpose. The elegance wasn’t ostentatious—it was intentional, dignified. Gerald Lefevre had spared no expense for tonight’s event, and it showed. Every detail was a reflection of legacy, wealth, and quiet power.I walked slowly along the edge of the room, admiring the crisp table linens and fresh hydrangeas. Candlelight flickered in ornate glass holders, adding a warmth to the otherwise formal atmosphere. The scent of roses and expensive perfume floated in the air, blending with the savory promise of whatever was cooking in the kitchens.“Taking it all in?” ca

FREYA'S POVI was halfway through the quarterly projections when Lucy burst into my office with an energy that made me finally look up.“Freya! You’re not going to believe this—” She bounced in on one foot, her eyes sparkling. “Gerald’s setting up a shareholders’ party. It’s going to be a thank-you gala—cocktails, light hors d’oeuvres, the whole nine yards. You know… to show appreciation for everyone’s support this year.”I stretched a hand toward her, hiding a tired smile behind a yawn. “That sounds… unexpected.”She grinned. “It kind of is. But here’s the thing—since you’re now officially part of the family, married to the VP, you’re technically a shareholder. Gerald wants both of us there.”I blinked. “Me? At a shareholders’ gala?”“Of course, you. Right now you’re probably the most important partner this company has. That little announcement isn’t just ceremonial—it’s strategic. They want to affirm solidarity after last quarter’s shift in leadership.”Lucy sat across from my desk,

FREYA'S POVI stayed quiet as the meeting finally wound down—the silence felt heavier than any argument ever could. Papers rustled, chairs scrubbed across the floor, and breaths let out like they’d just crossed a finish line. Although in here, the final buzzer meant only one thing: be ready for the next challenge.Brandon was the first to rise. I slid out of my chair and stood too, smoothing the crease in my skirt without really noticing the fabric. He moved past colleagues with a confident, measured stride toward the massive double doors. I followed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The room felt charged one moment longer, like it needed to exhale.At the threshold, Brandon paused. He looked down at me—just for a second, but that was all it took. That look said everything: Come on. It was time.He led the way out, and before I even registered the shift in space, we were met by two bubbling faces: Gerald and Kyle, standing just beyond the doors like sentries guarding a pr

FREYA'S POVIt had started out as just another board meeting. I was seated beside Brandon, fingers loosely interlaced in my lap, trying to keep my focus sharp. The air was sterile with the usual mix of coffee, crisp papers, and stiff colognes. Around the long table, executives murmured to one another as they reviewed notes and scrolled through presentations on their tablets. Brandon was calm, focused, and unreadable, as always. But suddenly—something shifted.It was subtle at first. A buzz. A few heads turned toward the door, murmurs growing quieter. Phones lit up with notifications. Kyle, sitting diagonally across from us, straightened in his chair, his posture rigid like he’d just been called to attention. My gaze flicked to Brandon, who was reading a text on his phone with narrowed eyes.That’s when it happened—almost like a wave of anxiety crashing over the room. People were adjusting their jackets, brushing invisible dust off their sleeves, closing folders, and sitting upright. O

BRANDON The scent of brewed coffee and warm buttered toast drifted through the air as I stood by the kitchen island, flipping through my emails on the tablet. Freya sat at the breakfast table, her hair falling softly over her shoulder, still damp from her morning shower. She was slicing into a piece of fruit, her expression distant, like her thoughts were elsewhere—somewhere quiet and far away.It was one of those mornings where the light came in just right through the kitchen windows, catching the golden strands in her hair and making her look almost ethereal. I caught myself staring, forgetting the article I had been skimming, forgetting the meetings lined up for the day. All I could think about was how lucky I was that she was here—real, steady, and slowly becoming the anchor I never knew I needed.I set the tablet down and reached for my coffee. It wasn’t exactly the most romantic setting—me in a crisp white shirt already half-dressed for work, her in one of my oversized sweatshi

FREYASleep didn’t come easily, not at first. I lay on my side, curled beneath the soft comforter, staring at the dim outlines of furniture in the room. The city outside was quiet tonight, the usual hum of life dulled to a distant whisper. But even in the calm, my thoughts were restless, running in small, frantic circles.Brandon was still in the bathroom, brushing his teeth or maybe going over his nightly routine with the kind of discipline he always carried—always precise, always reliable. That thought should’ve soothed me, and in a strange way, it did.We didn't stay in the same room but next door to each other, I always heard the tap running and going off. I've heard it all so often that I know when he goes to bed and when he wakes up, when he sleeps in his study and when he decides to sleep in his bed room instead. But what really settled the knots in my chest wasn’t the stillness of the room or the familiarity of his presence. It was what I’d said earlier. What I had finally le