Hakeem From Empire Age Novels & Stories

She told him coldly. Seriously amused by this, Prince Hakeem laughed so heartily. It was obvious even over the phone that Lucianda greatly amused him. Lucianda clenched her teeth in rage. Prince Hakeem was not just the Prince of a powerful Sheikh from the Western Asian country, he was one of the three most eligible and powerful men in London city. Having left home at the age of twenty two, for the city of London, despite his family’s wealth, he had started his own moderate shipping company and within ten years, he had built it to something so formidable that only few could compete with him and they still would not win.

Pathetic, yeah—but we’d do anything to ease this endless ache. Hakeem’s flight just landed, and his family is gathered beside me, eager to see him. Sha-Tira and Rahim insisted on greeting him first, and I wasn’t about to argue with my mate’s parents. Rasheed and Aiyana, his younger siblings, have made big posters welcoming him home. I'm smiling softly, watching their excitement, but I've got something special planned for Hakeem myself. Something he deserves—and we both desperately need. I hear claps and cheers as the pilot announces Hakeem’s safe return from four years of military service. He's the first off the plane, and when he appears, my breath catches. He's gorgeous, his wolf grace evi

The student body went into applause. “Any question?” Chloe asked “What was behind the name Empire?” Cami was the person to ask the question. Yes Cami was still in school, she was still a grade away from graduating high school. “That is a great question. Empire was the name of my late Godmother; I owe her a lot so I named everything I own after her.” Chloe replied with a smile

It coats the back of your throat like bile and rests at the back of your eyes, tightening your jaw when pride insists you scream instead. The Dune Empire was the second I auditioned for. Dry, gold, and infested with jackals in robes. King Za'ir lounged lazily on a throne of carved ivory, his eyes entertained and infuriating. "Audacus," he drawled, sipping wine. "The very specter of war himself." "We have to hit Hailey now, while her lines are still fluid, she's building too quickly even you know it." He waved his cup. "And what would you offer in return?"

My husband, Benji Morrison, is a system guide from another world. His mission is to get me pregnant so that I can give birth to his successor. However, although I've already gotten pregnant seven times, I suffer a miscarriage each and every time. "Your uterus has been severely damaged due to the amount of times you've suffered a miscarriage," the doctor explains. I'm racked with guilt. I resign from my job and stay at home to focus on getting pregnant again. When I get pregnant for the eighth time, a comment appears before my eyes just as I'm about to share the good news with Benji. "She's so pitiful. She's nothing but a tool that the male lead is using to get together with his first l

People say he’s a myth. “You look scared, princess.” His voice snaps me out of it. I glance around. The speakeasy is thinning out. Only a few attendants remain, too attentive, too still. Watching. “The Godfather, Dominic Ventura?” I ask. “You thought he was a myth?” Zavier’s smirk turns colder. “He’s not.” I follow his line of sight.

The contrast of her—soft, warm, and expressive—against the darkness of the underground fighting world made her look like something otherworldly. And for some goddamn reason, Kane liked hearing her talk. Which was new. He pulled off his hoodie, leaving him in his fitted white t-shirt. He heard her inhale sharply, her green eyes flickering to his exposed arms, where ink covered his skin. The dim lighting in the car made her red hair shine. He smirked as he started the car. "So, uhmm..." she cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. "How old are you?" Kane kept his eyes on the road. "Twenty-nine. You?"

I turned and walked toward the Gulfstream G650 waiting on the tarmac. Just as I reached the stairs of the jet, I heard the frantic roar of an engine. A beat-up car came screeching onto the airfield. Security tried to stop it, but it was too fast. The door flew open and a woman with wild, tangled hair jumped out. It was Eliza. Five years in the slums had shattered her. Her face was a wreck, her eyes burning with a mad, desperate hate. She was holding a gun. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT! ALL OF IT! YOU RUINED ME!" she shrieked.

Inside, a florist stared at a future she had never chosen. And somewhere between legacy and strategy, a contract the empire could not break had taken its first breath.

Aakash said. It was his suggestion to send them to his village. His uncle was a wrestler, including his cousins. Andrew could never imagine their whereabouts. They would be safe. I didn't want any distractions. "This is the time when no mistake would be accepted," I told them, darting my eyes at them. No emotion was playing on my face. I didn't open up to anyone. This was the first step toward becoming a successful businessman and the emperor. "Our men are keeping close eyes on his every move. If you allow, we should allow one of our men to let Max know that he's not alone."