You Know My Name (BWWM Romance) (The Good Girls and Bad Boys Series Book 1)

by Stacy-Deanne

  Clarice walked inside followed by a hefty, mocha-toned black man of at least six five, whose shadow could cover Santa Barbara.

  “Here you are, Detective.” Clarice smiled and left.

  “Ms. Royal.” The deep tides of his voice could envy thunder. “It’s nice to meet you.” He approached her desk, taking something from his pocket. “I’m Detective Dunleavy with the Santa Barbara Police Department.” He flashed his badge and picture. “Homicide.”

  “Detective.” She swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the anxiety in her voice. “Please, sit down.”

  He forced his huge body into the much smaller chair.

  “This is about Preston Kinard?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He took a notepad and pencil from his pocket. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask questions.”

  The gray sprigs in his bushy mustache drew her attention.

  “No.” She smiled. “Whatever I can do to help I’m willing. I’m confused why you’d think I’d know something though.”

  “It’s just a formality.” His beady, obscure eyes locked on her face. “We’ve been speaking to anyone who knew Preston, business or personal.”

  Her sweaty hands shook.

  “Please.” He stared at them. “Don’t be nervous. You’re not in any trouble.”

  “I’m not nervous.” She chuckled. “Okay, I am. But, it’s normal to be nervous when a cop talks to you about a murder.”

  “How would you know?” He crossed his giant legs. “Have you murdered someone before?”

  She gaped.

  He guffawed. “Ms. Royal, I’m just kidding.”

  She faked a laugh.

  “In my line of work it helps to have a sense of humor. I just need basic information. You’re not a suspect or anything.”

  “Do you have any leads?”

  He tilted his bald, oval head. “We can’t discuss that with the public.”

  “I’m sorry.” She waved her hand. “Of course you can’t. I hope someone is brought to justice soon.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about this deal between Spears Corp. and Kinard Industries. Would you like to tell me about that?”

  “Well, I wanted to bring Preston on as a partner but the deal fell through.”

  “Okay.” He wrote on the pad. “Mind telling me why it fell through?”

  “Um, it just did. We didn’t see eye to eye.”

  “His people and your people said the deal was done, and that you were set to close it. How did it go from that direction to falling through?”

  Sweat drenched Osana’s neck as she forced the words through her weakened voice, “Preston and I couldn’t agree on a few details so we decided not to do it.”

  He nodded, writing. “When did you call it off?”

  “Last week. We didn’t call a big meeting or anything. We spoke on the phone and that was it.”

  “Teaming up with Preston’s company meant a lot to you I’m sure.” He raised an eyebrow. “It would’ve expanded Spears Corp.’s reach. Your people said you were intent on closing that deal.”

  “I was.” She tapped her pen on the desk. “I don’t disagree with how important this would’ve been for the company.”

  “You must’ve had ill feelings when the deal fell through, right?”

  “No.”

  “No?” He rubbed that spot underneath his nose. “You had to be disappointed. I heard the deal could’ve brought billions into the company.”

  “I was fine with the decision because it was best for both companies. It was mutual so why would I have an issue with it? I don’t want to do business with someone who isn’t happy. Preston wanted something I wasn’t willing to give.”

  “Hm.” He tapped his chin with the pencil. “When’s the last time you saw Preston in person?”

  Shit.

  “About two weeks ago.” She tapped the pen faster. “That would be March fifth. He came to Spears Corp. and we had a small meeting.”

  “Who was at this meeting?”

  She named the people in attendance.

  “That’s the last time you saw Preston?” He glared at her with potential doubt.

  “Yes.” She held her breath.

  “You sure you didn’t see him after that?”

  Why is he asking me this? Has someone said something?

  “I…”

  Sweat trickled into her cleavage.

  “Ms. Royal, are you okay?” He touched the desk. “You’re sweating an awful lot.”

  “You know how it is in California.” She fanned with a piece of paper, chuckling. “The humidity sneaks up on you.”

  He eased back. “Uh-huh.”

  She got a napkin from her drawer and dabbed her cheeks.

  “You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m fine.” She wiped her forehead. “I’m a little embarrassed to be sweating like this. I guess I got overheated.” She looked up at the vent. “Is the air working?”

  “It’s working fine for me. What did you think of Preston Kinard?”

  She dabbed the tip of her nose. “Excuse me?”

  “Did you like him? Everyone says he was a great guy.”

  An ache began in the middle of her stomach. “He was kind.” She sighed; disappointed to give him a compliment even if it lowered suspicion of her.

  “He liked you.” He rocked his foot. “Were you aware?”

  “What?” She fanned with a piece of paper. “As in romantically?”

  “Some of his employees said he did. He never shared that with you?”

  “No.”

  “I figure you were uncomfortable with his feelings and that swayed you to pull away from the deal. He never showed these feelings?”

  She sighed. “Not to me.”

  He scribbled on his notepad and then rose. “Thanks, Ms. Royal.” He held out his hand. “If I need to speak to you again, will that be a problem?”

  “No.” She looked at her hand. “I’d shake but I’m sweating like a pig.”

  He winked. “Pigs don’t sweat.” He shuffled to the door. “Have a good day, Ms. Royal.” He left.

  She collapsed on the desk. “Jesus.”

  ****

  Osana rushed to Shad’s bedroom that night as he folded a shirt into a suitcase. “What’s going on?” She joined him by the king-size, sleigh bed. “Abby said you’re taking a trip?”

  “I’m going to Italy.” He piled another shirt on the other in the suitcase.

  “And you couldn’t tell me?” She plopped on the bed, grabbing at the silver and gray comforter.

  “I didn’t know until yesterday,” he said in a firm tone. “I’m gonna stay with an old friend who lives in Rome. We met in college and he was an exchange student.” He gathered socks and ties from the reddish-brown armoire. “His mother’s dying of cancer and doctors feel it’ll be any day now before she—”

  “I’m sorry.” She admired that he’d drop everything to help a friend, but she still didn’t want him to go.

  “He’s an only child.” He stuffed the ties and socks in a compartment of the suitcase. “We were always like brothers and kept in touch. He didn’t want to be alone so I said I’d come up to help him make arrangements and everything.”

  “Doesn’t he have family to do that?”

  “He wants me to help. It would mean a lot if I’m there.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. I remember how heartbroken I was when Anthony died. I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.”

  His mouth rose in the corner. “Not even on your sister Georgia?”

  “Ugh.” She rubbed her stomach. “Georgia Arnett is not and never will be my sister.”

  “Come on, Osana.” He got his hair products from beside the swirled indigo vase on his dresser. “Thought you’d learned to accept her.”

  “I’ve learned to tolerate her. Why do you think I moved out of the Spears’ estate? I got so tired of her throwing her weight around. She thinks just because she’s Anthony’s real daughter she can control
everything.” She crossed her legs. “I’d had enough.”

  He nodded, laying his brush and comb in the suitcase.

  “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “What?” He laughed, stumbling backward. “Now who’s running hot and cold?”

  “I don’t understand the hold you have on me, Shad.” She shook her head, staring at the glass candleholders on the dresser. “Only you could get on my nerves and I allow it to happen.”

  He scrunched his face. “Is that a compliment?”

  “Stop.” She touched his hand. “I care about you. Can’t you be more patient with me?”

  “For how long?” He grabbed bottles of cologne from the armoire. “Hm?”

  “If you love me like you claim then you’ll wait for however long it takes.”

  “Wow.” He threw his head back, nostrils flaring. “You’re something else. Everything has to go your way. Well, not this time, Osana.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “It’s your turn to be patient.” He punched the clothes to make room in the suitcase.

  “You said you’d wait.”

  “Yeah, I said that!” He hit the suitcase. “But, I’m human, Osana. I’ve been waiting for so long and nothing changes. I don’t know if I wanna wait anymore.”

  “Bullshit.” She stood, moving behind him. “You can’t stay away from me.”

  “That’s why this trip to Italy couldn’t come at a better time.” He looked at her from over his shoulder. “I need to think and clear my head.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Because of everything.”

  The veins throbbed in Osana’s neck. “So it’s okay for you to force me into committing to you, but you can’t be patient?”

  “I’m not forcing you into anything.”

  “What do you call this?” She pointed to the suitcase. “Part of the reason you’re leaving is because you think it’ll make me commit to you. Admit it.”

  “Unlike you, I don’t manipulate people.”

  “Oh?” She swallowed the hurtful remark. “I’m a manipulator now?”

  “Now that you mention it, me leaving will make you get off your ass and not be so afraid of us going further.” He went into his walk-in closet and got several pairs of pants. “We’ll see, right?”

  “How long are you gonna be gone?”

  “I’ll let you know.” He laid the pants on the bed.

  “When?”

  “Whenever.”

  “Fine.” She marched to the doorway. “You can stay in Italy as long as you like.”

  “I’ll call you when I get settled.”

  She stomped out the room, her face flooding with tears by the time she made it downstairs.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Hm.” Max sniffed Osana as she entered his two-story luxury home. “What’s that fragrance you’re wearing again?” He closed the door.

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  He nodded, clicking his jaw. “Follow me.” He led her into a spacious living room with a color scheme of white and gray. “Sit down.” He sat on the leather, maroon sofa and patted the spot beside him.

  She took in the lavish surroundings. “You have more taste than I thought.”

  An entertainment system with a 75” Sony television and floor speakers set against the wall beside a steel rack of wine. Vibrant portraits of tulips and mosaic hearts in alabaster picture frames hung around the room. A bronze, pendant light dangled from the center of the ceiling and a cherry-red area rug ran across the floor.

  He scooted butterscotch candy wrappers, a Playboy magazine, and empty bottles of beer to one side of the table and propped his bare feet on it. “You gonna sit down or what?”

  She inched toward the maroon chair then stopped when she saw a package of opened condoms on the end table.

  “Whoops.” Max snatched the condoms. “Had a chick over last night.”

  Osana turned up her nose. “I bet that was an enlightening evening.”

  “I love the ladies.” He ran his tongue across his teeth. “And they love me.”

  “I see you like beer.” She pointed to the bottles.

  “Would you like something to drink?” He put the condoms in the pocket of his jeans. “I got wine coolers.”

  “What is this, a damn date?” She took the check from her purse. “Here. It’s ten million dollars. Now leave me the hell alone.” She turned to leave.

  “Hold on.” He tugged on her sleeve.

  “What?” She sniffed, catching a hint of springtime air freshener. “The check is good if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

  He held it out to her. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Excuse me?” She stuck her neck out. “After all the shit I’ve dealt with from you, you better take this damn money.”

  He walked around, looking at the check. “Why would I want ten million dollars when I could have much more?”

  “Take the money, Max.”

  “Ah.” He stretched, the Asian dragon rippling across his arm muscles. “Ten million dollars won’t do it, Princess.”

  “You better take this goddamn money.” She marched to him, pointing. “I’m not playing with your ass anymore.”

  “You’re not in a position to give ultimatums.” A sly smile spread across his lips. “Ever wanted to be married, Osana?”

  “What?” She grimaced.

  “It’s every little girl’s dream to be married.”

  “Max—”

  “I never thought about marriage.” He waved the check. “Until I met you.”

  “You take this damn money!” She pushed him on the couch. “It’s over, Max! You’re not getting another dime from me.”

  “You’re an amazing woman, Osana.” He laughed. “Let me make you happy.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He got on one knee and took her hand. “Osana Royal, will you marry me?”

  “What the—”

  He kissed her hand. “We’re a match made in heaven.”

  “Stop this, Max.” She threw the check at him. “Take the money and leave me alone.”

  He tore the check in half.

  “What are you doing?”

  He pulled her to him. “It’s the perfect plan.” His eyes widened. “You marry me, and I get way more than ten million.”

  “Get off me.” She pushed him. “It’s never gonna happen! I’m not that desperate.”

  “Oh yes you are.” He stood, pulling at his shirt. “You’ll marry me or you’re going down for Preston Kinard’s murder.”

  “You can’t be serious.” She put her hands over her ears. “I don’t wanna even hear this nonsense.”

  “You know what’s at stake, Osana.” He forced her hands from her head. “I’ll go to Dunleavy tonight. I swear to God I will.”

  “Why can’t you leave me alone?” she shouted. “Please! Take the money. I’ll write you another check. Just leave me alone.” She hit his chest. “Please, leave me alone.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, lady.” He panted. “I’ve ruined lives when people didn’t do what I wanted.”

  “Please don’t do this.” She cried in her hands. “I beg you, Max.”

  “We’re getting married.”

  “No.” Tears scattered past her cheeks. “Max, please.”

  “You’ll add me to the deed of your home and other properties.”

  “No!” She fell to her knees. “I beg you. Don’t do this.”

  “It’s done.” He sat on the couch, avoiding eye contact.

  “Look at me.” She sniffled, standing. “Max, please. Think of people you’ve loved. You wouldn’t want someone to hurt them like you’re hurting me.”

  His expression softened for a second then the indifference returned. “This is the offer. You can accept it or refuse.”

  “I can’t marry you!” She sat beside him. “It’s absurd and no one would believe it. You think my mother would settle for this? She’ll smell this scam a mile awa
y.”

  “You make her believe you love me.” He stuck his finger in her face. “You do whatever you have to just get me my money.”

  “You wanna drain me dry? You act like I have all the money in the world.”

  “Anthony Spears was a billionaire, and he left you money to last generations.” He scratched over his tattoo. “It’s selfish to hang on to money you won’t use in your lifetime.”

  She shook her head, sobbing.

  “We’ll be married for a year, divorce, and I’ll get half your money.” He shrugged, winking. “Simple.”

  “Half? I’m not giving you half of anything.”

  He reached for his cellphone on the end table. “Wonder what Detective Dunleavy is doing right now.” He positioned his hands to dial. “Let’s see.”

  “Please.” She snatched the phone.

  “I knew you’d see it my way, Princess. We’ll have a courtship of around three months. That’ll be enough time to convince your family we’re in love.”

  She gagged. “I’m gonna be sick.”

  “After the divorce, I’m out of your life for good.” He swiped his hand through his hair. “You’ll never see me again. That I promise you.”

  “You’ll be on the deed to my place. I—”

  “California’s inheritance law won’t give me access to money you had before marriage unless you add me to the deed. Once you do that, then I have access once we’re divorced.”

  “You’ve done your research.”

  “It’s my job. If we play our cards right, people will be convinced.” He held out his hand for a shake. “Is it a deal, Osana?”

  She nodded but refused to take his hand.

  “You know?” He touched her thigh. “I can’t wait for our wedding night.”

  “No.” She moved his hand. “That’s where I draw the line. I will not sleep with you.”

  “Says who?”

  “I love Shad, and he’s the only man I want. You keep that clear.”

  “You don’t call the shots.” He moved closer as if he’d kiss her. “You’ll do what I tell you to do.”

  “I’m not playing.” She stood. “You might get my money, but you’re not getting my body. I’ll marry you, but don’t lay one hand on me. Not one. Do you understand?”

  He groaned, appearing disappointed. “It won’t be convincing if I don’t.”