The billionaire's bride

Leila’s breath was steady, but her pulse roared in her ears as Adrian Kane leaned in, his breath ghosting over her skin. His words weren’t just a warning—they were a challenge. Good. She was up for a challenge. She tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. Mr., is that a threat? Kane?” Adrian made a sly grin, and something obscured his gray eyes. "It is not a danger, Ms. Oke. It’s a promise.” Her grip tightened on her champagne glass, but she kept her expression cool. “You must be used to people backing down when you talk like that.” He laughed softly and amusedly. “You’d be surprised how often that’s true.” Leila forced a smile, tilting her head as if intrigued. “Well, I hate to disappoint, but I don’t intimidate easily.” Adrian studied her for a long moment, as if weighing her words. He then extended a hand toward her and placed his drink on the bar with effortless control. "Come dance with me." Leila blinked. A movement? Now? She should refuse. She should

Leila Oke had spent her career exposing men like Adrian Kane—powerful, untouchable, and arrogant beyond belief. She was now sitting next to him in the back of a sleek black limousine and getting ready to smile at the cameras as his wife. She was wearing a diamond ring that was worth more than her apartment. She clenched her fists in her lap, her nails digging into her palm. This was temporary. Just six months. She could survive six months. Adrian sat next to her in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo and maintained his composure effortlessly. The soft glow of the car’s interior lights sharpened the angles of his face, making him look even more infuriatingly handsome. He turned his gray eyes to her. "You appear nervous." Leila exhaled through her nose. “Gee, I wonder why.” Adrian smirked. "You need to relax if you want to pull this off." With a serious expression, she turned to him. “You blackmailed me into marriage. Forgive me if I don’t feel relaxed.” He chuckled, the sound

The following days were like a game of chess. Leila and Adrian exchanged double – meaning glances and words. Each hand brush was a new action that neither of them wanted to admit. In public, they remained the picture-perfect couple — untouchable, enviable.However, behind closed doors, the tension grew even more intense, pointing toward an unavoidable outcome. Leila had managed to persuade herself that the storm kiss was accidental. a foolish display of weakness that had no significance. She told herself this every time Adrian looked at her with those stormy gray eyes, every time his touch lingered longer than necessary. She didn’t believe herself. The morning was no exception. Leila stood in the living room, adjusting the navy dress she was wearing, which was simple but elegant. They were scheduled to attend a charity luncheon. Adrian was pacing with a frown across the room while talking on the phone. After cutting off the conversation, he turned to face her. "You ready?" Leila ga

The Whitmore Hotel gala was supposed to be simple. Make a grin for the cameras. Take Adrian by the hand. Make it appear as though the kiss that changed everything never took place. Leila had mastered the art of deception. Until she saw him. Nathan Cross was holding a drink and standing across the packed ballroom. The only man she had ever truly trusted was tall, handsome, and dangerous. Until he betrayed her. Publicly. Brutally. A scandal that had nearly ruined her. Leila lost her ability to breathe for a brief moment. Nathan’s blue eyes locked onto hers, and a slow, mocking smile curled his lips. Like he knew exactly what seeing him again would do to her. In an effort to concentrate, she turned her attention away. The time had not come. This wasn’t the place. Adrian noticed immediately. His breath felt warm against her ear as he leaned in. "Something wrong, darling?" Leila flashed the paparazzi in the immediate vicinity her brightest smile. She replied in a whisper, "Not at

Adrian hadn’t slept either. He stood in the penthouse’s study, staring at the monitors lining the wall, his fists clenched at his sides. Each screen showed fragments of Nathan Cross’s digital trail—emails, financial records, dummy accounts, suspicious shell companies. He was good. But not that good. Leila stepped inside quietly, wrapped in one of his shirts, her hair messy from a restless night. “You’re still up,” she said softly. Adrian didn’t turn. “So are you.” She came up beside him, eyes scanning the lines of code, tracking the digital ghost Nathan had become. “How much have you found?” Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Enough to know he’s bluffing. At least partially.” “Meaning?” He finally looked at her. “Meaning he has something—certainly something harmful—but not nearly as much as he claims. If he really had a smoking gun, he would’ve leaked it already.” Leila folded her arms. “So he’s trying to shake us with fear.” Adrian gave a small, bitter smile. “Classic Cross