by Vera Roberts
Sweet Nectar
Ellison Brothers
Vera Roberts
Published by Vera Roberts, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SWEET NECTAR
First edition. July 22, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Vera Roberts.
Written by Vera Roberts.
Sweet Nectar
by
Vera Roberts
Copyright
For BESM.
© 2018 Vera Roberts, All Rights Reserved
Smashwords Edition
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental
To Contact Vera
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Table of Contents
Book I
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Book II
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Book III
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Other Titles
Blurb
It had been over two years and I haven’t spent one day I haven’t thought of him. Of us. How much I missed him. How much I’m still in love with him.
Soul Ellison. The love of my life. The worst heartache of said life.
I chose my career over him, though it was a decision I knew was a huge mistake the moment I made it. When I left him back at his Harlem townhome, I wasn’t expecting him to come back.
He did. With a vengeance.
Our obsession with each other was only complicated by our intense desire and love. I needed him like I needed air. He was my drug and I didn’t want to go to rehab. He was richer than sin, a craving stronger than the most decadent dish, and he was all mine.
Navigating through a world where paparazzi follow my every move and I become the gossip fodder I once reported on, I wonder if this is a life I want? Soul promises he’ll do anything to protect me. I only wonder if we’re strong enough to protect each other.
Bestselling and USA Today featured author Vera Roberts’s Ellison Brothers series concludes with Sweet Nectar, a sexy venture into the fashion industry, insta-fame, and if love truly conquers all.
Book I
Chapter One
November in Los Angeles wasn’t like November in the other parts of the country.
It could be a hot 85 degrees during the day, only to go down to a blistering 40 degrees at night. People still wore summer gear along with their brand-new comfortable Uggs. We didn’t have snow on the ground, but if we looked far enough, we saw it on the mountains.
I love Los Angeles.
It’s the place I grew up in, it’s the place I call home. I love everything about this city and what it entails. I love the good of it, embracing the different cultures that have taught me a thing or two.
Soccer moms constantly rubbed shoulders with tattooed hipsters, who talked about the newest unsigned act. Celebrities were spotted getting a cup of coffee as even the non-fan of people would gawk and admire.
Executives didn’t parade around in business suits but instead, flip-flops, cargo shorts, as they drove mini-scooters on the sidewalk to be “socially-conscious.” Conservatives and liberals put their differences aside as they all waited in line at their favorite marijuana dispensary.
I love the bad of it, getting frustrated at the insane amount of traffic for no reason other than everyone’s traveling at that particular time.
I despise the ugliness of it, the paparazzi stalking the celebrity’s move, everyone wants to be insta-famous instead of a household name, and the devastating violence that could shame an entire city.
Regardless of how I feel about my city at any given time, I can’t imagine not living here. I love the mom and pop joints that the hipsters haven’t discovered. I love I could go anywhere unnoticed and no one stalks me with their camera.
I only had one other super love like this and I’m trying to forget how he knocked the wind out of me the night before.
It was official – Soul Ellison was my manic pixie dream boy.
I tried to convince myself I didn’t love that man, I couldn’t love someone I’d barely known, and there was no future in our frontin’. It worked for two years. I hadn’t heard a peep from him and I erased everything about him from my memory.
Until last night when he showed up at my doorstep and declared his love for me. Everything came flooding back from when he comforted my tears, to the way he owned my pussy as if it was curated just for him, to the way he took care of me at my darkest hour.
I press my lips as I remembered how he declared ownership over my body and I didn’t try to contest it. The way he pressed his body against mine, his lips drank from mine in the sweetest taboo...
I hate Soul Ellison. I love Soul Ellison. I want to be with Soul Ellison.
He is the youngest member of the world-famous Ellison family, and a force to be reckoned with. They’re old money Democrats and their rise to power will be talked about forever in the same lines of the DuPonts and Rothschilds.
His parents, Starr and Thomas, were Hillary and Bill before Hillary and Bill became a thing. His brothers, Ocean and Savior, Unlike his brothers, Soul didn’t venture in the legal field or politics. Instead, he was his own man with a successful fashion line and sneaker collection. Hypebeasts talk about his fashions the same way fashionistas talk about Gucci.
He is thirty-two years old, and yet, Soul is one of the richest men in the world. He is also one of the hottest men I had ever laid eyes on.
It wasn’t like he had a face anyone could forget. He was sculpted from head to toe, with two full sleeves on his arms. His tawny skin had just a little bit of hair, yet it was never too much and gave him an added sex appeal. His lips were sensual, sexual, and wicked. I didn’t know if I preferred them on my lips, my neck, or the inside of my thighs.
Day One Without Soul has officially started, though we both know when it’ll stop. He gave me a month to make up my mind about him, about us. He declared he was coming back to get me regardless of my feelings on the matter.
And then there’s the tricky issue with Jared, my on-and-off again ex.
It’s not a love triangle I’m caught in and n
o one has to wonder if they’re #teamEdward or #teamJacob with me. I know where I stand with both men. One terrifies me because he could give me everything, yet he’s in the public eye and is constantly watched. The other is that comfy, old blanket that had seen better days but you keep around because it knows you.
I don’t consider Jared my boyfriend, but I’m not entirely sure what we are. I know after I caught him sexing my best friend, I wanted to be rid of him for good. Then, loneliness and missing Soul kicked in. Jared convinced me that he was a changed man.
Or so I thought. Old habits die hard.
We’re not living together and I can’t even say we’re a traditional type of couple. Jared shows up when he feels like it. I tolerate it because I’m stupid. There’s nothing more to be said.
Still, a part of me hopes this is just a phase and that he’ll be the boyfriend I know he can be. I also know I need to stop wasting my time if I have even a slight feeling of being with Soul.
My eyes gravitate towards my closet as I choose my outfit for the day. The bright pink Fresh Nectar top and skinny jeans call out to me. I slide the smooth fabric over my body and I’m impressed how well it fits despite my weight gain.
I’m not a skinny chick; not that I ever was. I can’t just order clothes online and know it’ll look bomb on me once it arrives. I have to physically go inside the store and inspect every nook and cranny as I scrunch up my nose and twist my lips about how I could work it.
But I’m not the latest ‘big is beautiful’ cover model. I’m a healthy size 12 and it’s big enough where I’m considered thick and I can fit into Fashion Nova to see how my ass moves.
I remember how much Soul liked my curves.
My head relieves me of the memory as I look over myself in the mirror. Maybe I choose that pairing because of Soul. And maybe I chose it because I like how it looks on me regardless of who the designer is.
It ultimately doesn’t matter. I complete my look with a few sprays of perfume and head out. My hair and makeup are done at the studio so I don’t have to worry about that.
Now it’s time to pretend everything is fine as I gossip about everyone else.
Chapter Two
“Hey Ari!”
“Hey girl!”
“What’s up, Ms. Ari?”
“Hey, how’s it going, Ari?”
I greet and smile my way as I arrive on the parking lot of the movie studio where we film our talk show, Sista Gal. Being the youngest and only single member of the panel, I’m the resident gossip reporter. I dish on what celebrity is doing what, who said what to whom, and who unfollowed someone (curiously enough, people do want to know about that for whatever reason).
Before I can get to makeup, I make a quick pit stop at craft services and peruse over all of the unhealthy crap I can put into my body. I naturally gravitate towards the bagels and cream cheese and donuts. I’ll get both and then decide which one I’ll save for later.
“Hello Ms. Ariana,” the SHE network boss, Laura Buchanan, approaches me with a smile and air kisses. Laura Buchanan is the queen bitch of all queen bitches at the SHE television network. I work under her as a celebrity correspondent on the Sista Gal talk show, with three other women.
Laura is a force to be reckoned with. She earned her way by hard work, backstabbing, and fucking whoever she could to acquire the top spot. She’s one of those women you don’t know if you hate her or you admire her.
She constantly serves Robin Givens Boomerang tease. “Hello Laura.” I smile. I already know “How are you?”
“I’m doing well.” She picks up a variety of items and puts them on her plate. Laura is petite and I’m not even sure she’s a size 2. This woman crushes dreams and eats them for breakfast so I’m sure she has a hearty appetite. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well.” I reply. “Are you ready for the show?”
“I am. I love watching all of you work together!” She’s one of the best cheerleaders out there. As long as we’re delivering ratings and she’s making money, she’ll get out her pom-poms. “Have you thought about what we’ve talked about last night?”
Laura wants me to talk about my relationship with Soul as an “in” with the Ellisons since the famed tattoo artist, Aaliyah Smith, was mum about saying anything regarding her relationship with Ocean, the oldest Ellison son.
I can’t say that Soul and I were ever together, but it feels weird referring him as my ex-boyfriend. It also feels weird that I don’t refer him as my ex at all, since I’m clearly still in love with him.
Soul doesn’t deserve me gossiping about especially with how we met to begin with. I wrote a scathing #metoo-esque article about him that almost destroyed his reputation. He doesn’t need me to stick a knife in him and turn it.
“Soul and I didn’t date,” I finally reveal, even though I’m not entirely sure that’s true. We acted like a couple. We made out like two teens in a movie theater. We fucked like long-lost lovers. I loved on him as if my body needed him and was so thankful to finally have him.
Soul wasn’t just my boyfriend; he was my everything. He was my heart’s desire. He was the air I breathe. I longed for him in a way no man could ever come close to.
I also know if I share even a smidgen of that with Robin Givens-lite over here, that’ll never be the end of it. She’s been jonesing to get inside the Ellison camp for a while now and if Laura had it her way, I’d be the Trojan horse she’ll ride on.
“But you were close to him, weren’t you?” Laura gently presses. “You mentioned how you two talked in person after the infamous article and that you spent some time with him, getting to know him.”
“It wasn’t for a PR campaign. He just invited me out to see him and check out his fashions. That’s all.” Actually, it wasn’t. I will never forget how he ate me out on his kitchen counter as I barely held onto it.
Laura smiles and nods. It’s clear she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying but she can’t prove me wrong. She also knows if she pushes me too much, I’ll shut down altogether and she doesn’t want that. This woman has successfully played the game to the point where she can make her own rules. “Okay.” She smiles again. “I’ll talk to you later, Ari. Have a great show.”
Watching Laura walk away, I know it’s not the end of our discussion, not by a long shot. I also know I can’t worry about that now. Balancing my plate of regret and an orange juice, I head over to hair and makeup where I’m greeted by the glam squad, Sherry and Derrick.
They’re an ex-husband and wife team, though I’m not entirely sure their marriage was anything but for tax purposes. Derrick is rather flamboyant for a supposedly heterosexual male and Sherry is always Ms. Tell-It-Like-It-Is. But I can’t imagine anyone but them in charge of my looks. They always make sure my hair is on point and my face is beat to the gods.
“Hey Ari,” Derrick approaches with two cheek kisses and instructs me to sit in his chair. He’s an older black man with a silk press flatter than a Panini. “How are you doing, love?”
“I’m doing well,” I sit in the chair and get out my cell phone. It’s customary that I research what topics I’m going to discuss as celebrity gossip changes by the millisecond. What happened at 7 AM could be a completely different story come 7:45. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well. Just busy, you know. Doing thangs and racking up bodies that no one will ever discover.” He holds my head up and slightly moves it left and right as he figures out what style he wants me in. “We’re going to do a big, puffy Afro for you today. Your hair in a big ol’ puff. A pineapple. You’re going to be a fineapple.”
I laugh at the cheesiest of it. “Fineapple, huh? Let’s do it.”
“Let’s do this.” Derrick starts to come out my hair and then puts product on it. He styles it into a big puff with my coils defined. As Derrick is doing my hair, I scroll through the various IG gossip blogs. It’s usually the same ol’ stuff: a celebrity unfollowed another and they were supposedly best friends; one celebrity might be creep
ing around on their spouse; one celebrity is making big money moves.
I still report it because there’s a sector of the news segment that wants to know all of the gossip and I’m happy to share it. Though I have to admit, when I went to school for journalism, I never thought I would become a gossip reporter. I keep thinking that everyone had to start somewhere.
Still, I’m not deterred. I’ll keep reporting the gossip until I’ll get my big break to report something juicier and something newsworthy other than why a A-list rapper brought his harem on vacation. It’ll rectify the mistakes of my past reporting and prove to everyone that I can report on the news and deliver nothing but facts.
“Hey Derrick, hey Ari.” Sherry greets us as she settles into the room. She’s a light-skinned black woman who has a penchant for bold and bright lip colors. She’s rocking a deep blue today. She pulls up a chair next to mine and smiles at me. “How’s my girl doing?”
“I’m doing good.” It’s not a lie, though I’m not doing great. Even though I’m pretending to scroll through my phone looking up gossip, it’s to take my mind off Soul and his demands. A part of me hopes he’s talking shit and a part of me knows he’s not.
“That’s good.” Sherry nods and chews a stick of gum. “What’s the hot topic of today? What’s going on in the world of celebrity gossip?”
“Well, the same ol’ stuff and about people you probably don’t know.” I scroll through another gossip blog and see the same stuff reported on that one as well. Unless someone is of a certain age group like the dreaded title of millennial that I have, a lot of people in the 35 and up age range really couldn’t care too much about. Not that I can blame them, neither.
I finally hit the major gossip blog on IG, The Shadow Place, and freeze when I see the first post. Opening up the picture, I don’t know if I’m in shock, awe, or mortified by what I’m seeing.
“Well,” Derrick glances down on my phone and Sherry leans over, “it looks like you have a topic for today’s Hot Tea.”
