Beware

by Shanora Williams

  I groan. “Please don’t be doing all of this out of pity…”

  “It’s not pity,” he snaps, his tone a bit harsh. “It’s out of respect. I told you, Jonah was like a brother to me. This is how he would’ve wanted you to be treated. Probably better.”

  Swallowing the brick in my throat, I push off the wall and inhale deeply. “Well… thank you.”

  He lets off an annoyed grunt through the phone. I think I’ve just pissed him off. Silence spills through again. I know he won’t get off the phone until he knows whether I’m coming down to his yacht or not, so to make things better—pick up his mood again—I tell him, “I’ll be there,” and then hang up.

  I don’t want to know if he’s happy about me coming or not. I just want to get wasted… and then come back to this condo and drown in my own pool of tears and sorrow. But for now, all I’m worried about is looking my best, especially if he’ll have friends around.

  And Bianca… it’s a pretty name. She’s probably pretty. Layla was a big time whore, but she was pretty. I wonder if he’s sleeping with Bianca too…

  Wait. Why do I care?

  As I slip into my clothes, I continue asking myself that question. Why do I care? Why does it matter who he’s sleeping with?

  A part of me knows the real answer, but the wiser part of me won’t own up to it.

  After getting dressed in a thigh-length silky black dress with pearls, putting on some simple eye and lip makeup, and doing my hair, I stare at my reflection in the mirror, wondering who this girl is.

  She hasn’t dressed like this in a while—not since graduation day. It feels weird to go out again, to actually look like a human being. I know Jonah wouldn’t want me to just lie around and weep over him. He’d want me to have fun and to get to know the new people around me. He’d tell me to keep them at arm’s length, but to be kind and generous. I’ve been down long enough.

  So that’s what I’ll do.

  I’ll have fun for Jonah.

  And I’ll appreciate all the thought Ace has put into making this stay comfortable for me.

  “Where the hell is she?” Bianca groans, rolling her eyes. “I feel like I’m at a damn funeral with all of these boring-ass people here. What she’s wearing is gonna be the only highlight of tonight for me.”

  “And how do you know that?” I ask as she presses her bold red lips around the rim of her wine glass.

  She gives me a hard stare, turning slightly. “Everything I chose was perfect. She can’t go wrong. Now, if she comes here in one pink shoe and one red one, I’ll have a fit. But I doubt she’s that idiotic.”

  I chuckle. “Trust me,” I say. “She’s far from an idiot.”

  Just as I pick up my short glass of scotch, the boat rocks gently, and in comes Maurice. Maurice has been a business partner of mine for two years now. He’s an honest, goodhearted man, but when it comes to his money, he can get downright ugly — the reason I respect him. He knows when to act like a gentleman and when to act like a businessman. He’s thirty, only three years older than me, but very wise.

  As he spots me, he flashes a broad grin and shouts my name. “Ace!”

  “Maurice!” I return, standing and marching his way.

  “Finally… a little life,” Bianca murmurs. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that heard that. She’s had a thing for Maurice for some time now. Normally, she’d be the one to flirt and make a move first, but with him, she holds off. I’m glad. I don’t want her to fuck shit up between us.

  “How’s it going, man?” I ask, giving him a quick, brotherly hug.

  “All’s good over here. How’s it going with you?” He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. “Heard about your partner. I’m sorry.”

  I press my lips and shrug. “Business, man. Not much I could do about it.”

  “Fucking shame,” Maurice mumbles. “See, that’s why I warned you not to fuck with Pablo. He’s an impatient motherfucker. Only cares about himself. His men don’t even get treated well, and you know the saying about how you treat your men in this business.”

  I force a smile. “Yeah, I know. I know. If he isn’t treated like blood, he loses blood.”

  “Right, man. That’s just how it goes.” He caps my shoulder, giving me a hard look in the eyes. “Jonah was a good dude, no doubt about that. But shit happens.”

  “I know.” I can’t keep talking about this shit. Jonah’s death isn’t high on my list of enjoyable conversations. Shit, no death is fun to talk about unless the fucker deserved it. Jonah didn’t. And that shit has been eating me up ever since it happened. I feel guilty.

  And I hate guilt.

  I hate shame.

  I hate the look in his sister’s eyes.

  I hate responsibility.

  I fucking hate it all.

  Too much is going on right now. I need another drink, and if I don’t get it right now, I’ll explode. Luckily, Bianca shows up with two glasses of brown liquid.

  “Jack on the rocks,” she sings, handing both Maurice and me a drink. I thank her with my eyes, but she shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

  “Bianca,” Maurice says, smiling over his glass.

  She fights her blush. “Maurice.”

  “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight…”

  “Well, you know me,” she says to him. “I’m all about surprises. Never know what will happen next.”

  “Ooh…” He chuckles. “Sounds… adventurous.”

  This time, Bianca’s blush comes full force. Her whole face is red. I laugh at the sight of her, and as she and Maurice carry on with their back and forth flirtations, the boat rocks again. Gerrick enters, followed abruptly by London. As she walks through the door, I nearly freeze.

  Lifting her bare leg, she bends a little as she steps through the entrance. She takes a quick look around the yacht, obviously enjoying what she sees. I’m glad.

  Not only is she absolutely flawless neck and above, but what she’s wearing has me at a complete loss for words. A silky black dress, pearls draped around her neck, and studs in her ears. Pearl bracelets that look more like handcuffs. Oh, how I wish they were handcuffs.

  She looks fucking amazing, and as she takes a step toward the mini bar, turning her back in my direction, I see all I need to see.

  No bra.

  No panties.

  She’s completely bare beneath that dress.

  Holy. Fuck.

  “Ace?” Maurice calls.

  Snapping out of my stare, I look in Maurice’s direction and nod my head. “Yeah?”

  “Did you hear me? How are things with the new shipping boat?”

  “Oh. Good.” I bring my drink to my lips, hoping to cool the sudden heat that’s just swarmed me, but I know this drink isn’t going to do anything but make shit hotter.

  “Oh. That’s good. Well, let me go make my rounds,” he says, then walks away to talk to a group of people.

  Unfortunately, Bianca has been standing beside me the whole time. Her eyes are wide, her smile mischievous. Oh, hell. I hate that smile on her. It’s her all-knowing smile. And right now, I know that she knows exactly who I’m staring at.

  “Maurice called your name like three times,” she says, angling her head.

  “Didn’t hear him,” I murmur.

  “Well, I assume you couldn’t focus on staring at her ass and listening at the same time.” She laughs, placing her drink on the table behind her. “That must be London.” She tidies herself up. “I’ll go introduce myself.”

  “Feel free,” I say.

  Bianca trots off toward the mini bar where London is still standing. Lightly, she taps her on the shoulder, and London whirls around, taken by surprise. They laugh it off as Bianca holds her hands in the air while London presses her hand to her chest, most likely explaining how startled she’d gotten.

  I need to put my attention on something else, and it’s just my luck that Gerrick comes my way with a beer in hand. “How’s it going?” I ask.

  “Never better, br
other.” He pushes his fingers through his dreadlocks.

  “How is she?” I ask.

  “Seems okay.”

  “You don’t hear her crying or anything anymore, do you?”

  “Not much. Only heard her on the first two nights she was here. Slammed a whole lot of shit around, but I think she got it all out.”

  “Oh.” I nod. Understandable. “Good. Talked to Britt?” I ask.

  Gerrick tells me all about his previous conversation with Britt, his wife, but I can’t stay tuned for long. Eventually, between minor sips of Jack, my eyes travel over to London again. She’s not standing at the bar anymore.

  She and Bianca are by the balcony door, chatting and laughing up a storm over cosmos. Bianca grabs her by the shoulders and turns her in her direction. London smiles bashfully as Bianca looks her over, smiling so hard her face just might break.

  Bianca is a huge woman of fashion. I’ve tried getting her as many opportunities as I can, but the downfall of it all is she hates sticking to one thing for a long period of time.

  She was in art school… dropped out.

  She went to intern at popular a runway show but hated how they bossed her around.

  She even had a chance to work with Prada but didn’t take it because she “didn’t like how they assigned her to the color green.” She hates green. And with all her trials and error, I shake my head and scold her because, one day, she’ll regret not taking those opportunities.

  A cool draft travels through the boat, causing Bianca to make a loud burr noise and London to fold her free arm over herself. I still can’t stop staring. To make matters worse, her nipples are stiff. They look like they’re going to break through the silk. I want to take each one in my mouth with the silk still around them, making the delicate fabric damp while feeling her rock hard nipple roll around on my tongue.

  Fuck.

  I have to stop thinking about it… about her.

  Each intense, desirable thought makes my cock throb.

  Makes my belly heat.

  Makes me want to fuck her senseless.

  Make her scream my name…

  Make her… mine.

  Bianca is a nice woman. She’s quirky and loves to laugh, and I can’t stand it right now because she reminds me so much of Ver. But I’ve missed Ver and her spunky personality, so I know to cherish Bianca’s company.

  She’s gorgeous as well. She has to be the best-dressed woman here in her red dress and sparkly pumps. Her make-up is done extravagantly, and unlike so many other girls, it’s not over done. It’s simple, and it fits her. Her hair is much darker than mine, almost as inky as Ace’s, and just like him, her skin is a soft shade of tan. I can tell she’s younger than me by the way she acts. She’s kind of silly. I like it. I’m kind of embarrassed that I assumed she was sleeping with Ace. His cousin. It’s what I get for jumping to conclusions.

  After my fourth margarita, Bianca insists that I take a shot.

  “Oh, no,” I say, waving a hand in the air. “I can’t. Seriously. I’ll be drunk out of my mind.”

  “That’s good, right? It’s what you want tonight?” She looks me over, eyes wide and curious.

  I look her in the eyes, furrowing my brows. “Wait… what do you mean? How’d you know that?”

  “Oh!” She flings her hand in the air carelessly, and as she wobbles, some of her strawberry martini spills from her glass. “Ace. Told me you were looking for a good time and to make you feel welcome.”

  “God. Does he ever keep things to himself?”

  She laughs at my eye-roll and sarcasm. “Actually, Ace is the biggest prude I know. He doesn’t talk much unless it’s about business, which is why I’m curious to know why he has your name on his tongue so much…” Her head tilts out of curiosity, her face growing serious.

  Confused and a little embarrassed, I take a small step back, placing my elbow on the guardrail. The wind brushes against me, cooling the burning in my cheeks. I think of something quick… something simple. “I think it’s the whole guilt thing.”

  “Guilt thing?” she questions, eyebrows knitted. “Care to elaborate, love?”

  Her eyes are bugging out of her head, filled with three times the curiosity she had before. And then, it hits me. Ace didn’t tell Bianca all the details. He didn’t tell her why I was really here. He couldn’t have, otherwise she wouldn’t be asking me to elaborate on the murder of my brother.

  “Oh… I thought you knew… I thought he told you.”

  Her face scrunches a bit. “Told me what?”

  “The reason I’m actually here…”

  She straightens her back, giving me a hard stare. “You mean you’re not here with him… dating?”

  I nearly choke as I down the last of my margarita. “Oh, God, no. Me and him?” I question, way too obnoxiously to seem uninterested. “No. My brother used to work with Ace.”

  “Your brother?” A smile spreads across her lips as she snaps her fingers. “Oh! Oh! Jonah!”

  “Yes,” I murmur.

  “Oh. He’s such a sweet guy. Love his personality. Why isn’t he working with him anymore?”

  And just like that, it hits me. The seize. The constriction. My throat tightens, but to keep calm and collected, I turn towards the rippling water, watching as the waves clash and sizzle.

  “He… passed away,” I whisper.

  “Oh my God,” she gasps, in more of a whisper. I can hear the sincerity in her voice… the ache. She must’ve known Jonah pretty well. “London, I’m so sorry. When did this happen? Why?”

  “All I know is this business he was in with Ace was too much for him to handle. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Oh.” Silence fills the gap between us, but surprisingly, it’s not awkward. Placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, she turns me in her direction and gives me a full, heartfelt smile. “Your brother was a good guy. I know you hate to hear people constantly say they’re sorry for your loss, so I won’t say it anymore. I know how it feels to… lose someone. So, please, if there’s anything you need, let me know.”

  A smile spreads across my lips. “I appreciate that, Bianca. Thank you.”

  “Of course. But you do realize this really calls for a few rounds of tequila shots, right?”

  I laugh then look at the empty glass in my hand. I normally don’t drink like this, especially with people I hardly know, but this is necessary. And I need it. I just want to empty my mind… settle some nerves. So with a sweet smile, I say, “Sure,” and Bianca drags me down the stairs and back inside the yacht to get to the bar.

  When we get inside, I see Ace still chatting with a few of the men and women. They’re sitting on the sofa, all with drinks in their hands. I’ve noticed for the past two hours that he hasn’t said a word to me, not even a quick hello. So, I can’t help my wandering eyes as I take a seat on a stool at the bar.

  Just as Bianca sits and orders two shots of tequila with lime and salt, honey-brown eyes meet mine, the warm eyes I often get lost in. I stifle a breath. Only a brief one.

  His upper body is leaning over his thighs, his fingers folded, elbows on his lower thighs. He’s not wearing a suit tonight, but he is wearing dress pants and a button-down grey shirt. Still formal to me. Still sexy. I have the urge to look away—pretend like I wasn’t even looking—but I can’t, and neither can he. The intensity builds between us. It boils in the air, lingers in my lungs. My chest heaves as a small smirk forms on his lips.

  I bite my bottom lip, and I don’t think he notices, but his eyes slightly broaden.

  And just like that, he looks away, returning to his drink.

  “I saw that,” Bianca murmurs.

  I snap my gaze to her, straightening my spine. “What?” I question quickly.

  “That little stare down.” She picks up her shot of tequila with a gloating smile on her face. “You know a thing I learned about Ace when we were kids…”

  “What’s that?” I ask, picking up my shot as well.

  �
��Well, we were teenagers and he told me he walked in on one of his girlfriend’s moms while she was changing clothes once. All the woman had on was a silk dress and pearls that she must’ve worn when she went out.” She laughs, as if what she’s about to say next is unbelievable. “He said her mom was never very attractive to him. She was a petite woman and, well, at his age she was just his girlfriend’s mom, a nice woman that let him into her home. But he said when he walked in and saw her standing in the mirror in only silk and pearls, he found her the sexiest woman ever. And since then, silk and pearls have been his thing… oh, and lace. Can’t forget the lace.”

  “Really?” I ask, astounded.

  “Yep. Which is why he probably can’t keep his eyes off you tonight. I’m pretty sure he finds you pretty irre-fucking-sistible right now. What man in their right mind wouldn’t?”

  “Wow,” I breathe. “That’s… crazy.”

  “I think it’s cute. That he actually has a thing. But, you know, he’s never had any woman he’s slept with wear it.”

  “Not one?” I ask, absorbing the facts.

  Her head shakes, her curls flopping. “Not one.” She looks in his direction. I look with her and watch as he laughs with a few of the men on the end of the sofa. “I think he’s saving it for the right girl. Don’t blame him. I’d want to make my favorite thing memorable, too.”

  “Hmm,” I say. “Makes sense.”

  “Just know…,” she says, laughing and reaching for the salt, “that he won’t be able to stop staring at you for the rest of the night. So embrace it. It’s hard to get Ace to stare… to adore.”

  “I doubt he’s adoring me. He probably considers me another piece of steak… just like Layla.” I mimic her name, and Bianca bursts out laughing.

  “You met her!?” she shrieks.

  “Yes. Terrible attitude.”

  “Big slut,” she mutters. “But whatever floats his boat.”

  We laugh together obnoxiously, which causes Ace to look up in our direction.

  “Oh, I think he heard us,” Bianca whisper-hisses, then giggles again.