by Nia Arthurs
My jaw drops. “You told him you have a lover?”
“He needs to know that I have options.”
I cringe.
Anthony’s a worm for what he did to me, but sometimes I feel sorry for him.
Just a tiny bit.
Kenny’s eyes fix on me. Then sharpen. “Whoa.”
“What?” I awkwardly pat down my hair. The curls are frizzier now, having been yanked and gripped in Brett’s relentless hands.
I glance down at my clothes. As soon as I got home, I crashed in my tank top and panties, too exhausted to shower or change. But it’s not like she can tell by what I’m wearing that I was with Brett last night.
There’s no way she’d—
“What’s that on your neck?” Kenesha points.
Damn.
No way except that.
“Nothing.” I step back. Slap a hand over the tender flesh where Brett had been particularly amorous. “Breakfast?”
Kenny strides toward me. Poking her head close, she bawls, “Tierra, what the hell? Are you in high school?”
I tuck my bottom lip into my mouth. “Um…”
“Who were you with last night?”
My heart thunders loudly. “No one.”
“The bruises on your neck say otherwise, sister,” Kenesha sings. “They’re all over your shoulders too. How hard were you going at it?”
“Shut up.”
“Did you actually get lucky? On a Monday of all days?”
I cringe. “Can we not?”
“Oh, yes we will.” She rounds the counter. Plants her hands on her hips. “Who was he? A stranger? An old friend? Where did you meet him?”
I don’t normally discuss relationships with my sister. After I found out about her and Anthony, I couldn’t stand to look at her for a really long time. It just hurt too much. But now, I wonder if I could use her advice. Kenesha has much more experience in the relationship department.
“Talk or I’m going to tell Mom.”
“I have to go to work.”
“Then you better give me the gist real quick or you’re going to be late.” My sister’s stubborn and good for the threat. “Come on.”
I don’t have time for this.
I give in. “We met through Make It Marriage.”
Kenesha lunges back. Ever the overdramatic queen. “You slept with a client?” she hisses.
“He’s not a client any more.” At least he won’t be by the end of the day. I’m going to talk to Amina, Venus and Kayla as soon as I get into work.
Sure, they’ll be disappointed.
They won’t trust me as much.
I might not get any of the high profile cases for another year or two.
That’s fine with me.
I know I’m good at what I do and I can work towards that Top Cupid spot on my own merits. But at least I won’t be breaking the rules and threatening my job. And I won’t feel as guilty either.
“Dirty, dirty girl.” Kenesha wiggles her finger at me.
Heat sears my cheeks.
“But wait,” she scrunches her nose, “aren’t most of your clients loaded?”
I shrug.
Her eyes twinkle. “Damn girl, you got lucky. And I mean that in every way.”
“It’s not that serious.”
She laughs. “Of course not.”
I stiffen. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Tierra.” She prances through my kitchen. Pulls a bag of grapes from the fridge. “What billionaire would stick with a girl like you when he could have a long-legged model or a sexy heiress?”
“A girl like me?”
“Don’t take it the wrong way.”
“How the hell am I supposed to take that?”
“I’m trying to help you. This guy’s a rich bachelor looking for a wife that you were supposed to find for him. Do you think he’s suddenly going to date you? Marry you?”
“It’s too early to tell.”
“You opened your legs for him. It’s already too late. I bet he’s already looking for Hook Up Number Two.”
“It’s not like that.”
She arches both eyebrows. “What? Did he tell you you’re different?” She laughs softly. “That’s a classic line. Every girl desperately wants to believe they’re special. But guess what? You’re not.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Don’t let amazing sex confuse you, T.” She tosses her hair. “Listen to your big sister. You’re nothing to this guy. He’s going to dump you like that.” She snaps her fingers.
“What is your problem?”
“After what happened with Tony, I want to protect you, you know? Make sure that never happens to you again.” She puts the grapes back in the fridge. “I mean, you couldn’t even get your own boyfriend to stay with you. Why would a billionaire…?” Her voice drifts. She glances up. “T, I didn’t mean it like that.”
My nostrils flare.
A phone buzzes in the distance.
Kenesha frowns. “Seriously, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know what you meant.” I turn away from her.
She follows me. “Just be careful. Girls like you can’t—”
“What the hell does that mean?” I explode.
My sister reels back. “T?”
“What do you mean girls like me? Girls with darker skin? Or kinkier hair? Girls who don’t wear mini-skirts and makeup?” I gesture to her outfit. “Or girls who let their sisters steal their boyfriends right under their noses?”
“This isn’t about me and Anthony.”
“What I do in my personal life is none of your damn business.”
“It is when I see you heading for a huge iceberg and I can steer you right.”
“Brett isn’t an iceberg. He cares about me. I know that might be hard for your self-obsessed brain to process, but it’s true.”
“Brett? This guy’s name is Brett?” She laughs. “He’s white?”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Oh my go—this just got even worse.” Kenny shakes her head.
“No.” I jut out my finger. “Don't even go there. This is not about race.”
“Girl, open your damn eyes. That naïveté is exactly why you lost Anthony. You still have that stupid belief that love can conquer anything. Newsflash, it can’t. He’s rich and you’re poor. He’s black and you’re white. Why the hell would he choose you over a Beckie? You let the same thing happen to you and Anthony—”
My nostrils flare. “Stop bringing up what you did to me like I’m cool with it.”
“I’m just saying…”
“I never asked for your opinion.”
“But you need it. It’s obvious you’re in love with this guy.”
“I…”
“It’s all over your face. You’re falling hard. And I get it. He probably told you everything you wanted to hear just so he could be with his first black girl.” She laughs. “He made you feel like you were blowing his mind last night. Like you were the best he’d ever had. And you were. The best black—”
“Leave if you’re just going to be annoying, Kenny.”
She follows me across the room. “I’m sorry to bring you back to earth, but here’s the cold hard truth. There’s no Cinderella. No Snow White. The prince doesn’t come riding on a horse. He slips into your DMs. Screws around for one night and then hits the road. His glass slippers fit fifteen other girls. That’s how the story ends. Don’t lie to yourself. You know, deep down, this man won’t stay with you.”
My phone keeps ringing.
I roar in frustration.
Pick it up.
“What?” I scream.
“Tierra?” A feminine voice says.
I stiffen. Drop my tone to a whisper. “Kayla?”
“Is everything okay?”
Damn. I thought it was Brett. “Yes, everything’s fine.”
“I was just calling to check if you’ve heard the news?”
“What news?”
“Well, it leaked that Make It Marriage has Brett McQueen in their client list. We’ve been inundated with new sign-ups. There are news vans and magazines outside as well.”
“All because of Brett?” I knew he was rich and powerful, but I didn’t know he was that important.
“I think you should stay home today. For right now, we’re keeping your name out of the press, but it won’t take long for people to find out who you are.”
“Kayla, listen, about Brett—”
“All eyes are on you, Tierra. Can you handle a high profile case like this? Can I trust you?”
“Actually…”
Tell her Brett’s no longer a client.
I turn. Find Kenny staring intently at me.
My chest heaves.
The words get stuck in my throat.
I close my eyes.
Think about Brett.
I want you. Only you.
Yeah, but did he mean that?
I chew on my bottom lip.
Kenesha’s right. The fairytale love is a lie.
At least for me.
It’s been proven over and over.
The only person I can rely on is myself.
My hopes.
My dreams.
I don’t want to be embarrassed again.
I can’t handle having my heart stomped on for a second time.
Brett’s too good to be true.
I can’t trust it.
So I lift my chin. Shut my heart up. “Don’t worry, Kayla. Mr. McQueen is in good hands.”
“Wonderful. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come to work. In the meantime, stay low.”
I hang up.
Toss my phone away.
Sink into the couch.
Kenesha smirks. “You lied to your boss.”
“I know what I did.”
And it was either the smartest or stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
My phone lights up.
Brett.
I suck in a deep breath.
It’s time to find out which it was.
Twenty-Two
Brett
“Tell them I won’t do any damn interviews,” I growl into the phone as I pace my office. “And issue a statement that I am no longer a client of the Make It Marriage agency.”
The door bursts open.
Hansley strolls through. “Well, if it isn’t Prince Charming himself.”
“Shut up.”
“It seems like I missed the invitation to your royal ball. ”
“Which one of the step-sisters are you?”
“I wouldn’t be so harsh. Your Cinderella is the one trying to get you to dance with other women.”
I grunt. “Reporters are still downstairs?”
“It’s a damn circus out there.”
“Don’t they have anything better to do with their time?”
“You’re a hot topic.”
“It makes no sense.”
“People like reading about fairytales. Especially when they happen in the real world. We need that. We need to think that life actually has a happy ending.”
“It doesn’t. Life isn’t a fairytale.”
“You have to admit, this gets pretty damn close.” Hansley lifts a hand. “Bachelor of the Year Seeks Wife.” He smirks. “Those aren’t news articles. They're wanted posters. Hundreds of girls are convincing themselves that you’re The One.”
“They’ll be sorely disappointed,” I growl.
“No arguments here.”
I glare at him.
He just shrugs.
“My time at Make It Marriage is over,” I say.
At least as a client.
I’m sure I’ll be visiting the offices often just to see one particularly stubborn matchmaker.
“It’ll be really hard to walk away from this,” Hansley muses, cocking his head to the side. “You sure you can handle it?”
“I don’t know how word got out, but I’m taking care of it.” I round the desk. Plop in my chair. “And Tierra’s doing her part from her end. If we both deny the allegations—”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not happening.”
“What?”
He slides his tablet over the desk. “The agency is milking this up. Accepting all interviews. Meeting every news station. It’s a good strategy. Their stocks flew up overnight. Everyone’s talking about Brett McQueen and Make It Marriage. It’s a PR dream.”
And my own personal nightmare.
I grab the tablet up. Read the agency’s statement. “This can’t be right.”
“You see that?” Hansley taps the number at the bottom of the article. “That’s almost a million shares. And this.” He swipes to a video.
There’s a woman on the screen.
Brown skin. Reddish-brown curls. A mischievous glint in her dark eyes.
“Venus Miller. She was vague enough to not break client confidentiality but witty enough to make it seem like every woman has a chance to get on The Make It Marriage Bachelor if they sign up to the agency.”
“She’s sly.”
“She’s hot. If there wasn’t a huge rock on her ring finger, I’d—“
“Damn it.” I pull out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Tierra.” I face the window.
Look out over the city.
As the view sprawls out before me, my heart aches.
Unease spills through my veins.
I block it out.
Replace it with memories of holding Tierra close.
Sitting in this very chair with her in my lap.
Feeding her dumplings.
Listening to her laugh.
Making her smile.
I glance around.
See her everywhere.
She did exactly what she set out to do.
She left her mark on every inch of my office.
Now, each place I turn I’m faced with her.
Her naked back pressed against the desk.
Her chest plastered to the glass wall.
One leg up on the cabinet.
She’s there.
Her scent.
Her moans.
Her touch.
The sunlight blazes through the remnants of her essence.
Turns the echoes of her presence to sparkling gold.
The phone clicks.
Voicemail.
I hiss in anger.
Hansley frowns. “She isn’t picking up?”
“We were supposed to end this hours ago.”
“Think she betrayed you?”
My eyes sharpen on him. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“Or not.” Hansley falls back into the very chair where I’d laid Tierra out and feasted on her last night.
My friend gives me an eye. “It wouldn’t be the first time a woman approached you with ulterior motives.”
“No.” My jaw clenches.
There have been many women—some powerful and others seeking power. They all looked at me and saw a giant check book. Or a strategic partner. Or a potential husband.
I was never shaken.
Never fell for it.
Though I played the game, I played to win. I came out with exactly what I wanted—sometimes that meant they got what they wanted too. Sometimes it didn’t.
Sure, many have tried to get one over me, but it would be the first time a woman succeeded.
“I’ll talk to her first.”
“You trust her?” Hansley asks.
“I do.”
Hansley presses his feet on the ground. Leans his elbows on his thighs. “Why? Because of Shar?”
I consider my answer.
My sister pointed me in Tierra’s direction, but the rest was my own choice.
“Maybe.”
Hansley rubs his chin. "You love her.”
“Love?”
“I’ve never seen you like this.”
“I’ve never met a woman like he
r.”
“So?”
“So the moment we put a label on it…”
“You think you’ll turn into your mom?” Hansley’s brown eyes bore into me.
“That’s a risk I don’t want to take.”
“You aren’t cursed, Brett.”
“I don’t think I’m cursed.” My fists tighten. “I just think it’s dangerous. The moment I cross that line, everything falls apart.”
“You crossed a line when you screwed her in your office.”
I arch an eyebrow.
Hansley folds his arms over his chest. “The security guards heard you two when they were making their rounds.”
I stiffen.
He waves in my direction. "Don't worry. I swore them to secrecy and paid them off. But I’m to tell you that they admire your stamina.”
I clear my throat. Squirm. “It was spur of the moment.”
“I’m sure.” He smirks. “And I’m pretty sure it meant something.”
My heart bucks. “It’s different with this girl.”
“What’s different?”
I fist my hands on the desk. Glance away.
“Tell me, Brett,” Hansley presses.
“She’s all I can think about.” I pause. Admit hesitantly. “I want to make her smile. I want to hunt down every man who ever hurt her and string them up a flagpole. I want to be the one helping her see how amazing she is. I want her in my bed when I go to sleep and I want her face to be the first thing I see when I wake up.”
“That’s what love feels like. To pretend otherwise is stupid.”
“You know why I can’t go there, Hansley.”
“You’re already there, Brett. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.”
My phone chirps, shattering the tension in the air.
I snatch it up.
Scrutinize the screen.
It’s not Tierra.
The unfamiliar number flashes in front of me.
I ignore it.
A moment later, my office phone rings.
I grab it. Yell. “I said no more reporters—”
“Mr. McQueen, the state penitentiary is on Line One.” My executive assistant’s voice is sharp and cold. “It’s an emergency.”
My eyes meet Hansley’s.
Terror winds through my body.
Slams ice into my chest.
Hansley senses the shift in my expression and mouths, “What’s wrong?”
“Put them through.” Restless, I shoot out of my chair.
My heart is pumping so fast it’s about to charge right out of my chest.
