by Ashley
“I couldn’t be seen at the funeral of a known felon. You know that! The media would have had a frenzy over that. You know how I gotta move. It’s politics, Sire,” West said calmly and firmly.
“I ain’t trying to hear none of that ‘politics’ shit. My mother had to put my brother in the ground today and you were a big cause of that. You sending flowers didn’t do anything for her. You shoulda came for support and to pay your final respect to baby bruh. My mom…” Sire said as his eyes began to water up. It wasn’t because he was sad; it was the rage creeping out and escaping through his eyes.
“I would have if I could. At this level of the game, the rules are different,” West said. August stood by and watched, knowing this conversation was deeper than his relationship with Sire. They had both come from the same neighborhood and had known each other since they’d been babies. He decided to stay out of it as they stood face-to-face. The tension was thick and the hostility was evident.
“This was your problem. Now it’s my problem. I’m going to find out who is behind this and when I do, I’m going to make them pay. I need to know everything you know and then some. I’m right there with you every step until we find out who is behind this. Whoever it is … they started a fucking war.”
Sire stepped back and around West as he headed for the door. “Don’t forget who you are,” Sire said as he reached for the doorknob.
“Nah, you make sure you remember who the fuck I am,” West said in an indirect manner. He was telling Sire something without actually saying it and Sire got the message loud and clear. He nodded and disappeared out of the house.
CHAPTER 15
Sutton stood in front of the mirror hanging on the back of her office door as she worked lotion into her smooth hands.
“You can’t fall for him. He’s a Sinclair. He represents everything you hate,” she told herself. West was so rich that he didn’t even know how entitled he was. It wasn’t his fault. He was guilty by association, but the power of the privileged sickened her. What had been done to her sister turned her stomach. No one had even uttered Ashton’s name after her incident. Sutton hadn’t heard from one detective. The crime had just been swept under the rug, like the almost-deadly assault of a black woman hadn’t even occurred. Sutton was determined to strip August of that power. She was going to break their company down to its bare bones, bankrupt them, and then buy them out just because she could. She wished West weren’t attached, but his presence didn’t change the plan. There would be reckoning for the pain her sister had suffered and she knew the only pain wealthy people felt was financial burden.
She looked at the tweed Chanel business skirt and blazer she wore. The cameras would be present today. Every national media outlet in the country was covering the oil spill and the first efforts of the cleanup would be captured worldwide. West would be in attendance. At her urging, he was spearheading the cleanup initiative.
Ashton knocked on the door but pushed it open without invitation.
Sutton snickered. “No point in knocking if you don’t wait until I say come in.”
“It’s just a warning, not me requesting permission. I’m barging in regardless,” Ashton answered, smiling.
“Ever since you were a kid,” Sutton replied. “How are you feeling?”
“My body is healing just fine; it’s my mind that’s killing me,” Ashton admitted.
Sutton gripped her sister’s chin. “Your mind is strong, Ash. You couldn’t overpower the niggas who did this to you, but you can outthink them every time. I got us. You just stay out the way. I don’t need August seeing you. You just heal and if I need you to come off the bench for anything, I’ll let you know.”
Ashton nodded. “You better go. Don’t want to be late.”
Gadget and Honor were already en route. Sutton rushed down to the lobby and as she walked out of the glass doors, she smiled. She didn’t even mean to. The sight of West just made her giddy. He stood outside the black SUV. His suit was designer and fit his athletic build. He was such a man. Tall and strong. Sutton just wanted to climb him.
She walked directly up to him. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I need you next to me today. All day. Twenty-four hours of you next to me. It’s going to be a lot of cameras, a lot of pressure, all eyes on me. When they see me, they should see you.”
“Why?” she asked.
“So the whole world knows that’s me,” he answered.
The way her face heated she was sure she turned red despite her melanin.
“After we make it through today, we should talk,” West said.
Sutton hated the way her heart raced around him. He was such a grown man. She wondered how she could separate him from August. She knew she couldn’t, however. They weren’t just business partners, but brothers. Ruining one would ruin both.
His hand on the small of her back guided her into the SUV.
“Hi, Leslie,” she greeted.
“Ms. LaCroix,” the driver replied, tipping his hat as he glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
Sutton was tense but West’s hand on her thigh eased her tension some. He placed business calls the entire way as she sent off confirmation emails to the media, ensuring their attendance. By the time they pulled up to the Galveston pier, a full-fledged animal rescue event was underway.
Cameras flashed as West helped Sutton from the car.
“West,” she said, gripping his forearm as she looked out into the ocean. “The water’s black.”
She had known the spill was bad; but seeing it up close was heart-wrenching.
West squinted as he looked out at the damage. He grabbed her hand, shocking Sutton, and she looked up at him in wonder.
“Let’s go do our part to fix this shit,” West said.
“You don’t actually have to get your hands dirty. Just make sure we let the media get some photo ops of you helping, make it look good, and let the real environmentalists do their job.”
West came out of his suit jacket and handed it to his assistant, who approached him eagerly.
“Trenton, I’m going to need some of those mud boots and protective gear,” he ordered.
“Right away, sir.”
“You manage the PR for me? I’m going to dive in where I’m needed,” West said. Sutton nodded as she watched West walk toward the chaos.
Not many people surprised her; but in this moment, the compassion West showed was mind-blowing. Sutton motioned for West’s assistant.
“Yes, Ms. LaCroix?”
“Can you find another set of gear?” she asked. It was brought to her in minutes.
She quickly slipped into the protective wear and joined West beside the PETA staff as they washed oil from the feathers of hundreds of ducks.
“This is a real mess. You don’t really grasp it until you see it with your own eyes, you know?” West said. “You want to give it a try?”
Sutton reached for a basket where one of the rescued animals lay covered in oil. It flapped its wings, causing Sutton to scream in surprise and drop the duck. She scrambled to pick up the frantic animal and West laughed. He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her body, invading her space with the scent of his cologne. He placed his hands on top of hers to help secure the duck.
“You’ve got to be gentle,” he said. “She’s already scared. You’ve got to show her that you won’t hurt her.”
His lips touched her ear as he spoke, and Sutton’s stomach tightened in angst as she held her breath. She was sure they were no longer talking about the duck. She took the hose and began to rinse the oil from the duck’s feathers as West held it still.
Her heart was beating so hard she was positive he could hear it.
“Mr. Sinclair, a picture?” A photographer aimed his lens before West had time to respond and snapped a photo of the two of them with the rescue duck.
“Thank you for this. For the game plan to salvage my family’s company,” West said.
“It’s my job,” S
utton answered. She had to say it aloud to remind herself this was, in fact, a job. She was there with a motive. Falling for West Sinclair was not her agenda. She had to rein in this emotion he brought out of her.
“Sutty!”
Sutton looked up to see her sisters coming across the parking lot. They maneuvered through the sea of people and Sutton took a step away from West.
“Let me introduce you to my partners,” Sutton said. She hugged her sisters and then motioned for West.
“West Sinclair, meet the other parts of my firm. They’re responsible for arranging all of this. This is Gadget and this is Honor.”
“The infamous LaCroix sisters,” West said. “It’s a pleasure. Gadget? That’s an interesting nickname.”
“I’m good with all things computers,” Luna replied. “I’ve always been somewhat of a nerd.”
“I don’t know any nerds who look like you,” West said. Luna was stunning. Honor too. The LaCroix sisters were a double threat. Beauty and brains.
“Let’s get you to the stage. You should definitely make a statement. It’s important that you control the narrative,” Sutton said.
She already had reporters in the crowd on her payroll who were tasked to annihilate West once he stepped up to the lectern. She had given them all the ammunition they needed to ruin his image. After the press conference, West would have to step down as CEO. It would be the first of many bricks she’d underhandedly dislodge from the foundation of this company.
Sutton felt his hand on the small of her back as he led her through the crowd. She never missed how he secured her when he was around. She really wished they had met under different circumstances. Under this one, he was on the other side of the battlefield and Sutton was firing shots his way. She wasn’t sure he deserved it.
Sutton ascended the stage first and approached the lectern.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please,” she said, smiling. “Thank you all for attending. I would like to bring Mr. West Sinclair to the forefront. He has stepped in as CEO after the tragic death of August Sinclair Sr. and his beloved wife, Abigail. A lot of speculation has been spread through the media about where the future of Sinclair Enterprises lies. I’d like to invite him to say a few words.”
West stepped up to the microphones and as Sutton started to step back, he grabbed her elbow, pulling her close and leaning down into her ear.
“At my side,” he said. It was a command.
Sutton looked at him, shocked, and as their eyes met, she saw he needed her. Like he could handle this if and only if she were next to him. A king who needed a queen.
He turned to the lectern and Sutton stood at his side.
She felt like shit as the journalists she had given scoops to went in for the attack.
“Mr. Sinclair, do you still have plans to drill through American Indian tribe land? What about those tribes that rely on the water sources in the area?”
Before West could answer that question, another reporter fired off. “The investigation report from the explosion shows the blast was not accidental. What underhanded dealings led to the murders of Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair? Is there dirty money tied into the history of Sinclair Enterprises?”
Sutton watched West stiffen. He cleared his throat and finessed his goatee before finally speaking.
“I can’t account for any decisions that were made for this company before I took this seat. I can only speak on ways I plan to make it better. The footprint I leave on the world through the power I have at Sinclair Enterprises will be a positive one. Whatever ill deeds that have gotten us here will not carry us further. I’m not into misplacing or destroying natural ecosystems on anyone’s land. I want to work with the people of the native communities. If a pipeline benefits anyone, it should be the tribe it disrupts. If it isn’t equitable, it won’t happen. That’s my word. The reality is we need oil to fuel the comforts of our everyday lives, but the drilling can be done responsibly and with consideration. If we haven’t done that in the past, we will in the future. This oil spill is heartbreaking. It’s a disaster. It’s something we didn’t ask for; but as CEO, I won’t leave it undone. We are holding ourselves accountable. We only get one planet and we all must share it. I don’t want to do anything to destroy it.”
Who the hell is this man? Sutton thought, amazed at how well he’d handled himself under pressure. Those two questions would have destroyed anyone else. West, however, had the media eating out of the palm of his hand. He couldn’t have answered the questions better if she had written the responses herself.
“Mr. Sinclair, can you speak on your partnership with the LaCroix Group?”
Sutton’s neck swung right as that question came from a reporter she had never seen before.
West glanced at her and rubbed the side of his face bashfully. “We’re very lucky to have the LaCroix Group on our side as we begin to repair the damage that was inadvertently caused.”
The sound of subwoofers knocking interrupted the press conference as three old-school cars pulled up behind the crowd. Candy paint on the body, big shoes on the feet, tints so dark she couldn’t see the drivers. The first car had bullhorns attached to the hood. Sutton looked on, taken aback as a gang of men climbed out of the cars. It was clear who was in charge. Wearing jeans, a fitted white T-shirt, Yeezy sneakers, and enough jewels to open a jewelry store, he leaned against the body of his car with folded arms across his chest and looked up at the stage.
Sutton eyed West, who clearly knew this man. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought she was looking at a standoff. Was this a threat? Were these people in danger? Was he an ally? Opposition? Sutton was at a loss for words, but her fight or flight reflexes were causing tension to build in her.
Okay, what the hell is this? she thought.
Her eyes found Luna next, who stood looking from the front of the crowd. She gave her a single nod and Luna knew Sutton wanted intel.
Sutton removed her phone and sent a text.
Sutton
Find out who that nigga is and put Ashton on him.
Sutton focused her attention back to West, who had returned to answering questions, but she was distracted. She watched Luna maneuver through the crowd and walk between the parked old schools. She already knew her sister was snapping pictures of the license plates. Within the hour, Sutton would have the man’s entire existence at her fingertips. Perhaps she had underestimated West.
He’s not as straitlaced as I thought if he’s running with them. It’s time to dig a little bit deeper into who he was before he came into contact with the Sinclairs.
* * *
“I’m not sure if you’re washing the duck or if the duck is washing you?”
Honor turned to find August staring at her.
“You want to help?” she challenged.
August looked down at his three-thousand-dollar suit and chuckled. “I think I’m good. I’m gonna watch you.”
“How’s Beamer?” Honor asked.
“He’s doing well, coming home tomorrow actually,” August said.
Honor smiled. She was glad to hear that. He was a Sinclair, but he had no dirt on his name. He was an innocent bystander.
“We’re having a welcome home party for him, at the big house.”
“The big house?” Honor repeated, frowning. “A little distasteful, don’t you think?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve called it that since I was a little kid. I guess you’re right,” he said. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s literally a big-ass house.”
Honor lifted her brows and nodded. “I’m sure it is.”
“I say stupid shit when you’re around,” August said, grimacing as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“You sure it only happens when I’m around?” Honor asked.
August laughed. “Pretty sure, yeah.”
“Beamer asked me to invite you.”
“Wow, you’re really using your injured baby brother to get me to come to the big house, h
uh?” Honor asked, laughing. “That’s terrible.”
“I’m desperate,” August replied, smiling.
“I’ll come,” she said, as she placed the duck back in its holding pool and removed her gloves. She turned to August. “For Beamer.”
* * *
Sire pulled up to his house and hit the alarm on his car as he made his way up his walkway. He had always respected West’s wishes to keep their worlds separated, but after the disrespect of missing Wasan’s funeral, Sire was no longer playing by anyone’s rules. He had shown up to the press conference just to let the world see what type of company West kept. West liked his dirt tucked away in the closet like he was too good to claim where he was from. Sire thought West could use the reminder. He hadn’t needed permission to pull up. He’d dropped the same half million West had gifted his mom back into his lap during a public forum to prove a point: they didn’t need his money, and he couldn’t deny his roots. The move would cause much speculation, but Sire didn’t care. He operated off principle. If West was his brother, he should claim the relationship all the time, not just when it was convenient.
He unlocked his front door and pushed his way inside. He turned to close the door but paused when the scent of perfume hit him. He didn’t bring women to his home. Nothing feminine should exist inside.
He drew his pistol, turning to find the silhouette of a woman sitting with her legs crossed in his living room chair. She also had a pistol in her hand.
“Before you pull that trigger, I’ll blow your head off,” she said calmly.
“Small voice, big threat,” Sire said.
“Bigger bullets,” she said. She fired a warning shot, narrowly missing his head.
“What the fuck? Shawty, a’ight, a’ight!” Sire shouted. He tossed the gun aside. “Your point is made. Who sent you? I’ll double whatever they paying you.”
Ashton reached for the lamp on the table beside her and flicked on the light. He stalled when he saw her. He recognized her instantly. His mask prevented her from identifying him.
