Keeping Jahleel

A follow-up novella
(Jahleel 1.5)

by

S. Ann Cole

Keeping Jahleel
By S. Ann Cole

Copyright © S. Ann Cole 2014

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Without limiting the rights under copyright(s) reserved above and below, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

Cover by S. Ann Cole

For permission requests, contact to the publisher via email: ann@anncole.net

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Contact Ann

S. Ann Cole's Bookshelf

Dedication

For those of you who loved the hell out of Jahleel, thought the ending was not enough, and demanded more.

Here’s your “more”…

Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away.

—Dorothy Parker

Chapter One

Saying goodbye has never been a hard thing for me to do.

I was much too familiar with it.

Too familiar with chopping, punching, booting people out of my life due to my irremediable trust issues. But saying goodbye to someone I loved more than the woman who actually gave birth to me, was damned hard.

Goodbye, Lydia.

That was the last time I whispered the words inwardly before I collapsed to the ground.

Instantly, his hands were around me, catching me, holding me firm, whispering soft words of comfort in my ear. Assuring me that crying didn’t make me weak, that I should be mourning the person who had such a profound impact on my life, the person who saved me. Assuring me that this was not the end, but the beginning. Our beginning. That it was time for a new chapter. Time for me to trust someone else. Time to let someone else in.

Him.

I love you.

That was the first time I whispered the words inside or out loud since our journey to England.

I didn’t have the time to love. I had the time to mourn. Everything had been about Lydia. And him—us—had been pushed aside. He seemed understanding enough, being by my side throughout the process, holding my hand—even though I was sure he had to be uncomfortable around a bunch of people he didn’t know, save for my brother, my sister, and Lion.

If all this solemnness, tears, and bereavement was overwhelming for him, I couldn’t tell, because he’d carried a stoic expression all throughout. And remained quiet, speaking only when he thought I needed comfort.

I love you.

A second time I whispered it inside as he led me away from the black box, the black tears, the black lives, and towards our waiting vehicle. A downcast Thomas stood there, opening the door as we approached, eager to steer us away from beneath this black cloud.

A foot afar from the vehicle, I stopped walking and turned in my comforter’s arms. Raising the veil from my face so he could see my eyes, I whispered out loud this time, “I love you.”

Golden irises watched me, emotions elusive, buried deep inside, where no one could venture, where no one was allowed. Not even me. “I know.”

“Thank you so much. For being here with me…”

Warm thumbs caressed my cheeks, and his forehead creased with concern. “You okay now?”

“You’re by my side.”

“Good.”

“I want you.”

“You already have me,” his sincere voice told me.

I grabbed a fistful of his crisp dress shirt, suddenly filled with desperation, earnestness, hopelessness, as tears brimmed my eyes again. But these fresh tears weren’t ones of mourning. They were of fear. “Yes, I do. But…I want to keep you. How do I keep you? Tell me. Please.”

“Funny.” He laughed humorlessly, moving in and pressing his lips to mine. Our foreheads bumped each other’s next. Our breathing audible, mixing. Wide, passive grey eyes met warm, unreadable gold. “Was just here askin’ myself the same thing: How do I keep a woman like Saskia Day?” His head tilted to the side, mocking. “Tell me. Please.”

I smiled, relaxing a little. “All you have to do is stay. Through cool flames and fiery waters.”

“Well, then”—he smiled back—“you’ve got your answer.”

Jahleel’s long index finger drew lazy circles on my lower back. White sheets draped over our naked bodies as we jetted 35,000ft to Germany, where I was needed for a few days before heading back to San Fran. Jahleel didn’t have to travel with me there, but as beat as he was, he was adamant on altering his schedule once more to be there for me.

Guess this was what it felt like to have a man who actually gave a crap about all you do. He was in no haste to leave my side, no matter what that reluctance may cost him.

Lion and the others had flown back a week ago, leaving us behind, as Jahleel had insisted I showed him all my footprints in England. He wanted to know everything. Where I grew up, where I went to school, where I worked, where I had my first kiss, where I lost my virginity…everything. I wasn’t allowed to leave anything out. So we spent the last week tracking all my wanderings, as I spilled every dirty detail about myself, my past life.

It was warming some. His profound interest in me, my past. As though he was proving to me that what he felt for me went far beyond the physical. He wanted to be connected to me in each and every way.

I fell in love with him even harder over this last week. A completely sexless week.

That had just been remedied, though. We threw down an hour long session on the chartered jet. It was our first time beneath the sheets since he cheated on me.

Once I’d gotten discharged from the hospital, my mind had been set on getting to see Lydia as soon as possible, so Jahleel had given me the space I needed while still being there. Our relationship, our engagement, our careers, had all been set on the back burner.

But since I came to terms with Lydia’s death, decided to put it behind me and began focusing on my future—with him—my libido was back with a vengeance. And once the seatbelt sign was switched off, I’d attacked him.

My breasts pressed against his bare chest, sweat and heat sticking our skin together, our heartbeats settling back to normal pace as we breathed silently through our post-coital glow.

“What are your wishes?” I asked his neck, feeling superbly contented.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he answered, “I’ve only ever had one wish. And so far it’s halfway to coming true.”

“Halfway?”

“Yep.” He shifted down on the pillows and I scooted up a little so that our eyes leveled. “It’s a four step wish. Two more to go.”

“What are the steps?”

“Not tellin’ you, nosy.” He poked a finger in the dimple on my chin. A new habit of his.

“C’mon! I spilled every single detail about me in one week. It’s only fair you return the favor.”

“Only fair I return the favor,” he mused. Then he slipped a hand between my thighs and bit his lip. “True, you just gave me a fuckin’ mind-numbing blow and I didn’t return the favor, so let’s remedy—”

Punching his arm, I glared. “I’m serious, JK.”

Sighing, he removed his hand and studied my face for a beat. “Step one: make you mine, sexually. Step two: Make you mine, bindingly. Step three: Make you mine, legally. Step four: Make you mine, permanently.”

Only Jahleel. “You mind breaking that down for me?”

He laughed. “Trust me, it doesn’t get any simpler than that. Step one was to get you, claim you, start a relationship. Step two was to propose. Step three is to marry you. And step four is give you lots of babies so you’re tied to me for life.”

“I only want one child.”

“Three,” he countered. “Two boys, one girl.”

“Well, you already have a daughter. So two, then.”

Those words came out simple, but really, they were pretty damn hard to say, knowing Jahleel already had a daughter. A first child who wasn’t from me. As his soon to be wife, I’d always have baby mother drama to put up with.

“No,” he said firmly. “I want a daughter from you who’ll look like you. I’ve never thought about havin’ kids until you. Then Marsha just fucked everything.”

When I said nothing in reply, my mind wandering off at that lying, conniving Marsha and her far-end means of tying Jahleel, he grasped my chin and forced me to look at him.

“I know what you’re thinkin’. But look at it this way: I found out about Claire when she’s grown, talking and walking. What I’ll have with you and our kids is what I never had with her. Me willfully, agreeably, knocking you up. The pregnancy phase, the births, the name picking, nursing them, watching them grow from creeping to walking, their first words, and most of all, having both parents there, growing them in truth, no lies, no secrets…” He trailed off, his brown brows furrowing as his expression became pensive.

Pressing two fingers to the space between his brows, I tried smoothing out the creases there. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes found mine. “Wanna add another step.”

“Okay?”

“No divorcing,” he said. “I don’t believe in divorces. I believe in stickin’ together and workin’ shit out. I grew up in a house of love with parents who never fought in front of us, and stuck together throughout the storms. I want the same for us and our kids. So, no divorcing, okay?”

Ha! Who’d divorce him? Really, after waiting for so long for his love and commitment, he really thought I’d divorce him? Pfft. Not a chance. I was A-Okay with the “no divorce” rule. “Deal.”

“No cheating.”

“Deal.”

“No lies.”

“Deal.”

“No secrets.”

“Deal.”

“No sex.”

“Dea—Fuck no! No Deal.”

Jahleel guffawed, rolling over on top of me. “You kept sayin’ deal, so…”

I twisted my mouth to the side, thinking up another step. “How about sex everyday? Twice a day. And when it’s my time of the month, I give you blow-jobs three times a day.”

Jahleel flashed me his crooked grin, his eyes laughing at me. “Mother. Fucking. Deal.”

Then his mouth came down on mine, and in the next minute he was filling me.

Chaos slapped us in the face the second we strolled out the doors of SFO on our return from Germany a week later.

We stopped at a screeching halt at the unexpected attack of screaming fans and glittery posters. JK and Saskia 4eva! Hottest couple of the year! We ship Sahleel! …And all that buzz.

There were airport securities barring them off with a failing fight as the fans screamed until their temples were red.

“Fuck’s all this?” Jahleel mumbled from beside me, tucking his travel documents back inside his laptop bag.

I was used to all this. But Jahleel, he wasn’t a fan. He detested having the spotlight on him and the much ado about nothing.

Before I could answer, Ben, John, Lion, and two other burly men I didn’t recognize came bouncing forwards, flanking us and bustling us to a barely visible limo.

“My bike…” Jahleel said as we were propelled to the limo.

“I know how you feel ‘bout people drivin’ you, JK,” Lion responded over the noise, “But take a look around and tell me if you think you’ll get outta this on a fuckin’ bike.”

Jahleel shook his head, unimpressed. “This is fuckin’ shit.” He dipped into his pocket and pulled out a parking card. “Know how to ride a bike, TomTom?”

Thomas crossed his thick, muscular arms and raised a thin blond eyebrow, his pale blue eyes challenging. “Betta than you’ll ever be able to, careful rider.”

In the short space of time we’ve been engaged for, Jahleel and Thomas had kicked it off like old buddies. For some reason, Thomas liked him and his “TomTom” nickname. And that was something, because Thomas didn’t like people. Period.

Pleased me well, because it made my life a lot easier that he got along with my employees. In fact, ever since my suicide attempt, people seemed to turn to Jahleel instead of me. As though, somehow, he made sense and I didn’t. What he said mattered, and what I said didn’t. Many times when I gave orders to my own guards, I’d catch them shooting Jahleel an approval-seeking glance.

Not that I minded. In a strange, submissive way, I preferred things like that. Fact was, I was the woman and I was the wealthier one. Most men might feel threatened by that aspect, or inadequate, so the fact that, despite my wealth and status, people still saw him as the man in the relationship spoke volumes.

Tossing Thomas the parking card and bike keys, Jahleel warned, “Scratch it and I’ll kick the shit outta you.”

“Would love to see you try,” Thomas chuckled, backing up into the clamoring crowd.

We sidled into the limo with Lion, John shutting the door behind us.

Sparing not a second, Jahleel pinned Lion with a pissed-the-fuck-off glare. “You mind tellin’ me what the fuck is going on?”

Lion tugged up the sleeves of his black shirt with a graffiti bull dog on the front, his one inch thick gold chain glistening. Taking his own sweet time to answer, he straightened the flashy Movado watch on his wrist. Sonuvabitch was enjoying this.

“Don’t be actin’ all pussy on a dick with me, JK. You never thought ‘bout what would come after takin’ that job to judge on Dancin’ 2 da Beat? Which entailed you gettin’ on television where millions of horny single women would see that ‘pretty boy’ face of yours and—”

“The point?” I snapped at him.

Why on earth was he talking to Jahleel about horny single women in front of me?

Lion ignored me and went on. “Not only that, but you went ahead and proposed to one of the biggest superstars in the world right now. The hell did you think was gon’ happen, hmm?”

Jahleel rubbed his forehead and let out a long, frustrated sigh. Yeah, I get it. He didn’t like this, but Lion was right. He couldn’t have expected that after all these changes he could just go back living a normal life.

Pointing a finger at me, Lion continued, “Ever since your PR confirmed your engagement, it’s been fuckin’ chaos. Apparently, people love you two as a couple. We’ve been inundated with requests for interviews with you both, guest appearances, yada yada. And now it’s my job to make sure you two actually stay together and don’t fuck this up.”

“The fuck are you implying?” Jahleel shot at him.

“Do I even need to say?” Lion replied, brows arching up at us. “You two are explosive. Tragic. Bad shit happens when you get together. You love better when apart. But now that you’re together again, I’m gon’ be the third man in the relationship. Sorry for interlopin’, but I see money, and we all can make a shit ton if we play this the right—”

“We’re not playing anything,” Jahleel seethed, ire stroked. “Sassy and I are in a relationship. Engaged. This is not a game or a fuckin’ business. It’s called love, dipshit.”

“Wouldya look at that.” Lion grinned. “Jahleel Mutha fuckin’ Kingston talkin’ ‘bout love. Ha!”

“Fuck you, Lion.”

“I feel ya, son. Get where you’re comin’ from. After all, I feel the same ‘bout my queen, T. ‘Cept, no one gives a shit ‘bout T and mines relationship. But you two’s relationship? ‘Merica wants to be a part of it. And it’s my advice that you let ‘em in.”

“Not gonna happen,” Jahleel said adamantly.

“Don’t think you really have a choice now, JK. You’re engaged to Saskia Day.” He pointed a stiff finger in the direction of the airport we were driving away from. “You don’t want that back there, then you break off the engagement. Simple as that. In fact, I recommend it. Break. Up.”

Jahleel removed his hand from mine and I almost whimpered at the loss of contact. Avoiding my eyes, he leaned forward and dropped his head in his hands, as though considering Lion’s suggestion.

Panicking, I looked over to Lion who didn’t have an ounce of emotion or care in his eyes. Right here, right now, he was a completely different person from the manager/friend I’d grown to love.

No, he acting like a bossy, overbearing manager. The kind of manager I used to thank God he wasn’t. What was his problem? What could’ve possibly happened within the short space of time we left and now?

“Why are you acting like this, Lion? You of all people know how we feel about each other. Why would you want to…break us up?”

“Uh, I dunno. Maybe ‘cause the last time you two were together you landed up in a fuckin’ hospital bed?! And now an innocent man is servin’ ten years for your selfishness and stupidity?”

This time there was emotion in his voice. Hurt. Pain.

It had never occurred to me that he might still be affected by what happened. He never got over it. He probably felt like he failed me somehow by always being approving of my nonsensical behaviors. But still, that didn’t give him the right to try and force us apart. He orchestrated this. Leaked news about our arrival time at SFO so fans would come out. To intimidate Jahleel.

This had me cheesed-off. “That happened because we weren’t together!”

“You two are a disaster waitin’ to happen. He’s a fuckin’ volatile asshole and you’re a—”

“Shut up, Lion!” Jahleel barked suddenly. “Just shut the fuck up!”

Interlacing his fingers with mine again, Jahleel leaned over and kissed me hard, deep and assuring, before breaking to tell Lion, “Yeah, we’re not breakin’ up. Find another way to deal with our shit, manager. As for the paparazzi and annoying fans…just gimme some time to acclimatize.”

Lion’s grin wrapped around his face like a brilliant white scarf. “Perfect answer. ‘Cause I’ve got a mighty long list of proposals for you, son. More than for Saskia. You were hot stuff since that show, but now you’re”—he made an explosive gesture with his hands—”boom! So fuckin’ famous you can bake your shit and sell it on Ebay for a mil a slice.”

Jahleel actually rolled his eyes. None of this would ever impress him. He was a dancer, and that’s all he wanted to be.

“So, hold on,” I said, realizing what just happened. “This was a test?”

“‘Course it was. I’m not a dick,” Lion responded, giving me a look that said “I can’t believe you think I’d do that to you.” “Your lover boy past with flyin’ colors.”

Looking as though he wanted to punch a hole right through the ceiling, Jahleel warned, “Pull anything like that again and I’ll pound your face in.”

“Sorry, son,” Lion apologized. “But what you both don’t realize yet is that you’re the hottest couple right now. Don’t know why, but people are inexplicably crazy about JK and Saskia bein’ engaged. And since I’m both you guy’s manager, it’s my duty to make sure you in it for the long haul, no matter what.

“Things can be a little crazy when your relationship’s in the limelight. So I’m lettin’ you know that sometimes, I’m gonna stop being your friend and be your manager just to make sure we’re on the same page. Believe it or not, I’m nervous as hell that you’re together again. Never know what’s gonna happen with you two idiots, so in love with each other you keep makin’ the world’s dumbest fuckups. Love isn’t that fuckin’ hard. Seriously.”

Laughing out, Jahleel turned on the seat and fell on his back, looking a lot less agitated and more relaxed. He tugged our interlaced fingers, pulling me down on top of him, and I giggled as I collided into his chest with an “oomph.”

Sitting right across from us in the limo, Lion watched with a dubious expression.

“You just worry about your part as our manager,” Jahleel directed at Lion as he brushed stray curls from my face. “Me and Sassy, we’re good. Fanfuckingtastic, as a matter of fact. There’s no ending. Only beginnings.”

As Jahleel palmed the back of my neck and pulled my face in to kiss me, I didn’t miss Lion mumbling under his breath, “Wish I could believe that.”

Chapter Two

“Jesus Christ, here too?”

We pulled up outside my residence, and yep, fans were waiting for us there, too.

For the two years I’ve lived in SF, fans have never once came outside my home. Ever. What on earth was so damn fascinating about Jahleel and me together?

“Should be glad this ain’t LA,” Lion murmured, messing around on his phone.

The driver rolled through the gates and braked in front of my house. Lion got out, then me behind him, but Jahleel didn’t follow. I stuck my head back in the limo to find him scrubbing his hands down his face.

“You’re not coming in?” I asked.

Dropping his hands, he looked up at me, blank for a moment, then, “Ah, why don’t you come by me later? I’m crashed. And I’ve got a ton of stuff to take care of.”

He’s running already. “You can’t—”

“Sassy—”

“Okay, then. Bye.” I slammed the door.

The vehicle drove off as I stomped up the steps to my house. Was I supposed to keep hoping, or give up instead of waiting for him to inevitably break my frigging heart? One minute he was striking the match to light the goddamn hope candle, and in the next we were in bloody dark.

One moment he was saying he’ll stay no matter what, and in the next minute it seemed as though he was trying to get as far away from me as possible.

Lion stood in my doorway, blocking me. “Where’s he going?”

“Home,” I muttered, my lips protruding into a sulky pout.

When I made to move past him, he grabbed my arm. “Look, you went through all this trouble to get him, you better step it up and make sure you fuckin’ keep him. Because JK is a hard one to keep. Lemme shine some light for you: JK has only ever had one dream, and that’s to have his own establishment, choreographing the big names and doin’ what he does best. He’s already livin’ that dream better than he could’ve imagined. Landin’ that job with Dancin’ 2da Beat was just a bonus.

“You got no idea how many muti-million dollar contracts he turned down since that show. This”—he waved a hand to indicate the fans outside my gate—”is not his scene. Viewers’ reactions to him on that dance show took him by surprise and he’s been wantin’ out of doin’ the upcomin’ season ever since. But ain’t no way in hell they’re lettin’ him go. He’s too good an asset. They had to alter the contract with more palatable perks to make him stay. So if he’s tryin’ to cope with this, it’s ‘cause he really loves you. You see me bein’ hard on him, it’s for your benefit, ‘cause I know JK a lot better than you do. Play your part in this and play it well, or you’ll lose him.”

“Then why bother asking me to marry him when he knew what my life is like?”

Lion shook his head at me as if I wasn’t getting it. “Kia, JK’s been in love with you before you were this person, when you were no one. You ever think maybe he’s still in love with that person and not this person? Maybe when he sees you, he sees you without the wealth and the fame, seeing just you. And those things are just a harsh reminder after he snaps out of his haze.”

I slumped on the door post. “I’m so bloody helpless, Lion. I’m so in love with him that I’m perpetually self-conscious around him, afraid I’ll say or do something that’ll push him away. I don’t know what to do.”

“Keep him, that’s what you’re supposed to do. He already loves you, so it shouldn’t be that hard.” Then he got out of my way and started down the steps. “I’ve got more business with him than with you so I’m headin’ over to his place. John, I need a ride!”

Sighing, I entered the house and closed the door. It was eerily quiet despite the racket outside my gate.

Alina came skipping down the stairs towards me, green face scrub plastered on, all pink and perky as usual. “Saskia, you’re home!” she chirped.

Considering the fact that she’d been a bit standoffish since my engagement to Jahleel, she seemed suspiciously chipper.

Alina was Chad’s little cousin. Chad, Jahleel’s best friend who I’d dated for a couple of months, who, promptly after flying all the way to Australia to break up with me, had asked me to babysit her for a while. Before the break up, Alina had confided in me and told me of her biggest crush, who turned out to be Jahleel. And I hadn’t bothered to tell her of mine and Jahleel’s history. So when she heard of our engagement, naturally, she felt betrayed.

“Yep, home.”

“JK with you?” she asked with what sounded like nervousness as I continued my sulky trod through the house.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask me that, yeah?” I headed for the stairs. “Where’s everyone, by the way?”

“Amanda left with Zane a couple of hours ago and Ferbie’s traveling with Sade.”

“And Timber?”

She frowned at me under that thick goo of face scrub. “Timber left the minute she flew back from the funeral.”

My heart sank. She was gone again, and I never got the chance to spend any time with her. I had a sister who, in spite of her parrot-ism, I loved dearly. And since I’d allowed her to put college on hold to go travel the world, I barely ever saw her. Each year she found an excuse to extend her travelling. But I never stopped her, because education-wise, I wasn’t worried about her. Timber was a nerd with photographic memory and could pass those college exams with her eyes closed. But family-wise, I missed her. A lot. She’d flown back here the day after Jahleel proposed, apologizing for being out of reach…and late. But we’d all been in such a state over Lydia’s rapid deterioration that we never got the time to embrace properly. Now she was gone again and I had no idea when I would see her.

And Ferbie, Sade had stolen him away from me completely. They traveled often, seeing as Sade was an A-lister who lived to live. To enjoy life to the best of her ability. Plus when they weren’t travelling, Ferbie was almost always at her place. With Timber and Ferbie off living their own life, I now had no family around me. Just me. As Zane was slowly stealing Amanda, too.

Might as well hold on tight to Alina. Because I needed a new family.

I could feel Alina’s eyes watching me as I mounted the steps. She was waiting for something…

“It’s Sylvie’s off day. John and Ben came as extra securities to get us at the airport. Which means you were left here alone…” I summed up. Midway up the stairs, I turned to look at her. She still stood at the foot of the stairs with her hands behind her back, wearing that chipper grin, trying to buy me. “Who’s in your room?”

Her mouth opened and closed, smile fading. “There’s no—”

“Don’t lie to me, Alina.”

“It’s not a boy, okay?” she said quickly, holding up her hands in defense. “It Kaydeen.”

“Who the bloody hell is Kaydeen?”

“Your next door neighbor’s daughter?”

“Do I look like someone who knows their neighbors?”

Alina had never been the one to go against rules, so this was surprising. Unless she was purposely being defiant to spite me over this Jahleel crush crap.

“Really?” she squealed incredulously. “Your neighbor is retired rock star Dave Baltimore!”

Really? “Really?”

Dave Baltimore was a big, big deal once, right up there with Johnny Cash.

“Yes, really!” she exclaimed. “He lives next door with his wife and two kids Kaydeen and Davian. Kaydeen is my age. And Davian is lead singer of his garage band, Ice Steam, and he’s, like, oh-my-god-HOT and—”

“Does your Kaydeen friend have a crush on JK, too?” I cut her off, not in the mood for this. Not when I was at a lost at how to keep the man I loved.

“No. Actually, she has a crush on Ferbie and wants me to—”

“Well, she can stay then. I’m gonna nab a kip.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” she shrieked behind me as I resumed my journey up the stairs.

The jet-lag was starting to seep in as I trekked to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

Jahleel.

As I whispered his name in my thoughts, I automatically fingered my engagement ring. This ring was the only thing giving me hope right now. Being engaged was supposed to make me feel different, more secure and worry less. Except, it didn’t. I was more terrified than ever. This ring meant more to me than anything I’d ever owned. Now I had to make sure it remained on my goddamn finger.

The problem was…trust. Trust played a huge role in this. Trust planted the doubts there.

But I needed to stop doubting and believe that we would last, that we would make it to the very end, and that Jahleel loved me enough to get past all the things that made him uncomfortable. He said he needed time to deal with it. I could give him time. Sure. But not too much time.

I pulled out my cellphone and fired him a text message:

U still luv me?

—

What could possibly change that?

—

IDK. Just worried, I guess.

—

That I’ll leave?

—

Yes.

—

Not a chance.

I’ll deal with ur limelight shit.

—

Ur actions say otherwise. That’s wut makes me worry.

—

Stop fucking doubting us.

We r TOGETHER.

I got my mood swings, u kno that. Stop reading into them. They’re usually shit.
I get over them.

U got nothing 2be worried about. K?

—

I love u so much.

—

No more than I do u.

I hung on to those words, keeping my phone tight to my chest, pouring the words into my soul. And letting go of all doubts, I thought about our future together. Three kids, like he said. Two boys and one girl, a ranch house….

I fell asleep.

Jahleel opened the door a full minute after I rang his doorbell. Old, faded, cut-off jeans hung low on his hips, and that was it as far as clothing went. His hair was tied back in a loose, I-could-care-less ponytail.

Mine. All mine.

“Hey,” I said shyly, momentarily distracted by the undone button of his jeans and the silky smooth hair peeking out.

Jesus. Was I ever going to get used to him? This? Us?

Even after everything, I was still blushy, stupid, and tongue-tied around him.

“That smell…” I mused out loud, taking in an unfamiliar fragrance wafting beneath my nostrils. It wasn’t his usual earthy cologne. This was something new. And it smelled divine. “Did you change your cologne—”

He cut me off by tugging me forward into the house, slamming the door shut. Slinging one long, manly arm around my waist, he hauled my body to his with a stimulating force. “Been waiting for a fuckin’ hour.”

A rush of air left me at the heated collision. “Sorry about that. Alina and her new friend Kaydeen wanted my advice on—”

An impassioned tongue forced its way between my lips, shutting me up, stealing all the air from my lungs. I gladly obliged, bowing into him, moaning into his mouth, palms pressed against his bare, taut chest, skin warm beneath my fingers.

I loved him so much. So hard.

Having had his fill of my mouth, he pulled away. “Don’t keep me waiting again. I hate it when I want you and can’t get you.”

When I nodded obsequiously, he pulled me a few paces further into the foyer and stopped. Releasing me, he took a few steps back then looked down to the ground with a nervous smile. Confused, I followed his gaze.

I took a step back, because my eyes had to be fooling me. Arranged in the shape of a diamond were black marble tiles with gold initials, JS. Calligraphed in a style where the hook of the J looped around to start the S. They were entwined in each other. I was floored. Literally. He had our initials, large initials, engraved on the tiles in his fucking foyer.

“I had it done while we were away,” he said.

When I did nothing but stare down at the initials, speech-impeded, he pulled me back to him. “It’s an antiquated way of showing affection, I know. But…I love you. And, to be fair, ancient people loved the best. What people call love today is total shit, if you ask me. So, yeah, I tore a page from ancient Kings’ book and—”

“JK, you’re babbling,” I said, smiling. A reticent Jahleel babbling? “Are you nervous?”

“Guess that explains the babbling?”

“Because you think I won’t like it, yeah?”

“Do you?”

I shook my head at him. “Babe, you’ve literally written our love in stone. No, I don’t like it. I bloody love it.”

This made the nervous crease between his brows disappear. Releasing me, he got behind me and circled both arms around my waist. “Walk. Right out to the back.”

This was my second time inside Jahleel’s new house. The first time we were in a hurry to leave the country and I’d barely gotten enough time to check the place out.

The new house was a lot less bachelor than one would expect of Jahleel. It was all dark woods and comfortable chairs, throw pillows, fluffy rugs, and family pictures. Very homey. Unlike his last contemporary pad with clean lines, steel, and glass.

Four bedrooms, five and a half bathrooms, a fantastic kitchen that I very much envied, and a spacious backyard, which was a given in SF.

A given back yard where I was heading straight to as ordered by Jahleel, traipsing through the living room and right into the dining room that had a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and a sliding glass door.

As I glided the sliding door open, I stopped walking. There were lit candles lining his bean-shaped pool, red petals floating on the water. From where I stood at the door, a red carpet led straight down to the small gazebo on the other end. The gazebo was decorated with white sheer material and twinkle lights, draped here and there.

His arms tightened around me and his warm breath caressed my neck. “You like it?”

With a heavy sigh, I turned in his arms, drawing a pattern on his skin with my thumb, formulating the right words in my mind. But he took one look at my expression and his smile melted, his hands dropping from around me.

He frustratingly dragged his fingers back through his hair. “You don’t like it.”

“No. Yes—I mean, of course, I like it. But…”

“But what?”

“It’s not…you,” I said softly. “You don’t do candle light and…all that jazz.”

His chest heaved with a relieving sigh, and he took my hands in his. “You’re right. It’s not me. But you’re worried about us. And I’ll try anything to show you I’m nuts about you and that I’m not gonna back out of this. Isn’t this shit what you teary, emotional women like? Rose petals and candle lights? I thought—”

I pressed a finger to his lips, stopping his worry-babble. “Yes. We do like this stuff. But a simple ‘I love you’ would’ve done the trick for me. I’m easy. You didn’t have to go through all this.”

“Thought you realize by now that ‘I love you’ aren’t my favorite words,” he said, shaking his head. “Not because they’re hard to say, but because they’re too easy. Just words. How do you ever know if they’re genuine or not? I prefer the challenge of steppin’ out of my comfort zone to show the woman who owns me how much she really means to me.”

“Well… in that case”—I grinned, toeing off my high-tops and moving out onto the red carpet—”I one hundred percent, absolutely, positively fucking love it!”

“Great. ‘Cause I’m starving,” he said through a laugh, moving forward on the carpet as I moved back.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Indian.”

My stomach actually growled at that. Embarrassing.

Jahleel laughed at me. “Take it you’re hungry, too.”

“I love you, JK.” I needed to stop saying that. It had to be annoying for him, but I couldn’t help it.

“I know.”

“Can’t you ever say it back?”

“I love you.”

“Was that genuine?”

He stopped advancing.

I stopped backing up.

“No, Sassy, I just said it for the fuck of it. ‘Cause I’m that big asshole who goes around tellin’ chicks that I love them and askin’ them to marry me as a fuckin’ pastime.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m just—”

“What? Insecure? Worried? Afraid?” he prodded. “Guess what, Sassy, I’m all of those things, too. I might’ve been the one who cheated the last time, but you’re the one who left me. Bad as it looked then, I never would’ve left you.”

“So you expected me to stay with you after you—”

“I expected you to fuckin’ fight for me!!” he exploded as if this was something he’d been holding inside him for a while now. “It was so easy for you to leave me with her and run straight into Chad’s arms. So easy for you to just hand me over to Marsha when she played her tricks. You claim you love me, but you never, ever fought for me. You just allowed people to push you out of my life while you assume that’s what I wanted. That’s all you ever do: assume. Now we’re back here again? I slapped a fuckin’ ring on your finger and it’s still not enough for you? What the fuck else do you want me to do, Sassy? You’re drivin’ me shit crazy.”

“I want you to promise me you won’t leave me no matter what.”

“Jesus Christ, are you even hearing anything I’m sayin’ to you?!” he shouted. “Since when did you become so whiny? Where’s the strong Sassy I fell in love with? Did she die when you tried to kill yourself and now all I’m left with is an empty shell of her?”

“No,” I whispered. “She died when losing you again became her greatest fear.”

Walking up to him, I gripped his biceps hard and stared up into his irritated gold eyes. “You must understand that I’m nothing without you, JK. You must understand that you are my air, my purpose, the reason I wake up in the mornings. You must understand how much I need you, crave you, love you. You must understand why I’m being so whiny and pesty and perpetually seeking your assurance: it’s because I’m my own enemy, my own murderer. I fear my own self and what I’ll do to me if I don’t have you. My obsession with you is deep. My love for you is depraved. You must understand that you cannot leave me.”

Jahleel blinked. Quite possible that it was starting to dawn on him that he’d popped the question to a complete loon, wondering what the bloody hell he’d gotten himself into.

Several minutes of silence ticked by as we stared at each other, nothing but the sound of the light night winds whispering nature’s secrets through the tree leaves, crickets being the usual nuisance, and the words of Kings of Leon’s Beautiful War travelling smoothly on the wings of the wind towards us from the gazebo.

Sighing audibly, Jahleel moved in and wrapped his arms around me. “We’re never gonna have a relationship if we keep lingering in this area: you worryin’ about a future we can’t see into. You got to let go of your fears and let us enjoy each other, our time now, and when storms come, we face them together. We never know what’s gonna happen tomorrow, Sassy. Hell, I can’t even see into the next hour from now. We need to move forward, and in order to do that, you have to stop worrying. Don’t know how many times I have to say I’m not going anywhere for you to believe me. So, let’s wait and see, shall we? In the interim, let’s eat. Food’s gettin’ cold.”

“But—”

“Shh,” he shushed me. “C’mon.”

Forcing me into a 360 turn, he urged me towards the gazebo.

Inside, were two huge sofa cushions pushed together, spread over with a thick, red blanket, boxes of Indian food on trays in the middle.

“Seriously?” I laughed.

“You were right. I’m not a sit-around-the-table-with-wineglasses kind of man. I’m a drink-Jack-straight-from-the-bottle kind of man, so I kinda went halfway with all this—if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Right up my alley.” I smiled in reminiscence. “Reminds me of our first time together…”

Jahleel groaned. “Was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“Why?”

Backing me up against a column, he pushed his hips into me so I could feel his hard-on. “‘Cause now I gotta turn the menu upside down.”

“I’m…totally okay with that,” I breathed out just before our lips met, his tongue dipping inside to rub against mine.

Locking my hands around his neck, I pressed into him, my nipples hardening as my arousal heightened. Whenever Jahleel was around, I was usually just a second away from wet knickers. Aside from the fact that I loved him something fierce, every damn thing about him made me hot. He was all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever dreamed of, and now I had him.

Ask me. Go on. Ask me if I’m not the happiest woman in the world right now….

Jahleel hoisted me up by the waist and perched me up on the gazebo railing, shimmying himself between my now spread thighs, never once breaking the kiss.

….Sorry, my mouth is occupied at the moment. Will have to answer your question later…

Warm hands slid up under my sleeveless denim shirt-dress and smoothed up my thighs until they reached their destination. Jahleel groaned into my mouth, breaking the kiss and pulling back to look at me. “No underwear?”

“Why bother wearing any when I knew precisely what I was coming here for?”

“Not the food?” He smirked. “Or the schmaltz?”

“Definitely not,” I said, slamming my mouth back to his while he removed his hands from under my dress and worked on popping the buttons open.

In a second, cold night air was whispering over my skin as he removed the only item of clothing I had on. But my blood was roiling far too hotly to take notice of the night chill. That’s what Jahleel did to me. Made me forget everything; making him, his touches, my only focal point. He was my master. He owned me. All my moans, all my screams, all my orgasms.

When his tongue flicked around my right nipple, I dug my fingers into his shoulder and arched into him, whispering his name. Cupping both my breasts in his hands, tweaking my nipples, he moved up so our eyes met. “I wanna eat you out, Sassy. Can I eat you out?”

Oh hell and damnation… “Please, please…do.”

“So you need me to, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” I all but wept, squeezing my thighs around him.

“Tell me, then,” he said, moving down.

“What?”

“Tell me to eat you out. Those exact words. Not ‘lick’ or ‘suck,’ ‘cause those are completely different from eating you out.”

The hell?

Diffident, I hesitated. The words were raw and harder to say than lick and suck. He knew that. That’s why he was forcing me to say them.

Getting down on his knees, he moved my thighs further apart and I gripped the railing for balance.

I was stark naked in his backyard, spread-eagled on his gazebo railing with him kneeling down between my legs, his mouth in direct line with my core, waiting.

“C’mon, Sassy,” he said with that crooked grin of his. “You’re a badass. You can say it.”

“Eat me.”

Jahleel chuckled. “That sounded more like a curse than a sexual demand. You also left a word out. Along with the golden word.”

Oh, Christ. I’d forgotten how much of a pain-in-arse tease he could be. And the self-control he had when it came to sex.

“Eat me out…please, JK.” It sounded so weird, but it worked.

Jahleel’s head moved, and then his tongue was inside me. Tongue-fucking me, licking me out.

I gripped the railing hard as pleasure ripped through me, my heels digging into his back. “Ohfuck…Ohgod!”

Slowly, he slid his tongue up my seam, and instead of licking my clit, he just outright sucked it between his teeth, and sucked, and sucked, and in 0.25 seconds I was blacked out, juddering with an unheralded, unexpected orgasm that rolled on and on, sharp spasms jerking me.

The thing with Jahleel was, you never know what you were going to get. He was unpredictable and full of tricks, and that made me ever-ready and ever-excited to shag him.

Getting to his feet, he breathed out, “That was fast,” while unzipping his jeans, pushing them down his hips in a slow fashion.

Commando.

I spied the nest of silky smooth hair first, and as the jeans slid lower, his cock sprung out, pointing at my core as if it was trained to detect a wet pussy and aim right in its direction.

That big guy wanted in.

My heart rate picked up all over again at the sight of his lovely cock. The most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen. A cock I now owned. A cock that promised to poke only one pussy for the rest of its virile life.

Mine.

Jahleel moved in and I opened up even wider for him, easily, freely. He cupped my face and kissed me. Hard, deep, fierce, hungry. Like he was trying to tell me something through this kiss. He wasn’t a man of words, but of actions and expressions. And I knew this kiss was saying I love you.

“You have absolutely no idea how deep I’m feelin’ you,” he whispered when we broke. Situating his wide, blood-red head at my entrance, he added, “I want this forever. Want you forever.” He inched in a little. “Can I have that, Sassy? Forever with you?”

I didn’t get a chance to answer as he surged right into me a second later. Growling in his throat, he flexed back then surged in again, then back and in again until he picked up a rhythm, fucking me to his own beat, dragging both of us in a pleasure ride.

Knowing he didn’t like being legged during sex, I kept my legs far apart even though I really wanted to just wrap them tight around him. But he liked having the freedom to flex around, and wrapping my legs around his waist prevented him from fucking me in control as he wanted.

Now, he was fucking me deep, with grunts of pleasure, groans of my name, and moans of praises. Deeper and harder he drove into me, his hooded gaze never leaving my lips, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Then he stopped suddenly and pulled out, his breathing ragged. Lifting me down from the railing, he spun me to face away from him. “Bend over. Grab on to your ankles.”

When I did as he ordered, my sea of raven curls hanging down over my face, he muttered, “‘Sas, Christ,” before gripping my butt cheeks and driving into me again, letting out a loud expletive as he bucked deep into me, his pleasure cry overriding my pain cry.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but getting fucked from behind is painful as shite. But it was a sweet, sweet pain. Pain I never want to end.

So I sank my teeth down onto my bottom lip and took it like a “badass” as Jahleel drove into me over and over again, each of his grunts louder than the first as he screwed the daylights out of me, racing to the finish line.

See, if I was going to be JK’s forever girl, I had to be a badass in the bedroom. Simple. He got bored easily, and he took fucking seriously. He didn’t “have sex.” He fucked (his words). And whenever he was fucking, trust me, he was fucking. So whenever he issued orders like “bend over and grab your ankles,” I tried never to hesitate. I just bent the fuck over and grabbed my ankles. Hesitating could throw his mood right off. It had happened before.

Fuck time was fuck time. Talking and complaining and everything else was for later.

Want to keep the man you love? Pay attention to what he likes and doesn’t like during fuck time, and be everything he wants in the bedroom. Outside the bedroom, be as defiant as you want, but inside that bedroom, don’t fuck around.

God is love. Animals are food. Women are emotions. And men are sex.

Simple.

A familiar tingle darted up the back of my knees, shooting up my thighs and settling to a roil at the pit of my stomach. I was a blink away from imploding.

“Don’t stop, JK,” I panted out. “I’m gonna…ohgod…come.”

“No, wait,” he panted back. “Wait for me.”

Letting go of my butt cheeks, he grabbed my hips, steadied himself, and began fucking me even harder. No way could I successfully wait for him if he was going to shag me like that.

“You have to hurry, yeah?” I cried, squeezing my eyes closed, curling my toes.

“Tell me you love me,” he growled out.

“I love you. Always.”

Holding on another second was next to impossible.

“Tell me again.”

“I love you.” Right now. It was going happen right now. “JK, I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Yeah, now,” he strained out as he slammed into me, one, two, three times and stilled. “Fuckkkkk.”

It happened. My orgasm tearing through me with a raging force as we came together, my muscles clenching around his pulsing cock, milking him.

Once we were both wrung dry from our orgasms, he leaned over my still bent body, holding on to my ankles with me, cock still inside me even as he nuzzled my neck and told it, “I’m so fuckin’ stupidly, crazy in love with you. I’m seriously fucked.”

Knowing he couldn’t see because of my hair curtaining around my face, I grinned, replying with his favorite words, “I know.”

Chapter Three

“Wanna ask you to do something for me…” Jahleel said, forking in the last of his yellow rice. He was propped up on his side on the cushions, and I sat crossed-legged, stark naked upon his insistence, even though he was still in his cut-off jeans. “But I’m wonderin’ if you’ll agree.”

“Seriously?” I actually guffawed at this. “What wouldn’t I do for you?”

He didn’t laugh in return. “I want you to go back blonde.”

“You don’t like me raven?”

“‘Course I do. But I’m kinda cravin’ that blonde girl I fell in love with at first sight.”

Picking around the little food left on my plate, I took my time, thinking before answering. “You’re asking me to change my image. I didn’t become Saskia Day as a blondie. This with the purple ends is my signature. I…I don’t know if I can do that. I’d have to run it by Lion first.”

“Lion?” He scoffed. “Wasn’t I the reason you went raven in the first place?”

“Yes, but—”

“This is your career. Your image. I get it.” He dismissively waved a hand. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

Uncomfortable silence followed for a few agonizing moments until he thankfully broke it again. “There’s a particular discussion you’ve been avoidin’ having.”

I drank down some Perrier water before asking, “What’s that?”

“Our wedding.” He turned to lie on his back, crossing his arms behind his head. “You want a long engagement?”

Casting a loving glance to the ring on my finger, I shrugged. “I haven’t been avoiding it. I guess…” I sighed. “I’ve wanted you for so long it’s just kind of surreal, ya’ know? I think I’m just trying to get used to having this ring on my finger.”

“You keep forgettin’ it’s there,” he said in a soft voice. “That’s why you always worrying and wondering. Never take it off, it’s a reminder that I’m always with you, always on your side. ‘Kay?”

This was true. I kept forgetting the ring, that we were engaged, and then I ended up seeking assurance, being a whiny, annoying twat.

Swallowing past the newly formed lump in my throat, I nodded. “Okay.”

“So?” he prodded. “Long engagement?”

“That’s what you want?”

He seemed to think about it for a minute, then, “Doesn’t matter to me either way. Whatever makes you feel secure. Long as it’s a small wedding.”

“On small we can agree.”

I resisted the urge to pinch myself. This had to be a dream. Here I was, naked, in Jahleel’s backyard, in his gazebo, planning our wedding. If anyone ever tries to tell you dreams don’t come true, tell them to take Miley Cyrus’ rubber finger and stick it up their ass.

“What do you say about not planning at all? And whenever it hits us, wherever we are, we just find a pastor and do it. Just us,” I suggested. “We both have to agree the time is right, though.”

Jahleel blinked at me. Then shook his head slowly. Then he grinned. “This, this is why I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. I’m in. All in.”

“Well, that’s it for our wedding plans.” I reclined onto my back, turning my face to him. “No headaches. No chaos.”

“Prenup?” His face serious as he asked this.

Definitely no. Without him, I had nothing. My suicide attempt should have proved as much to him. The wealth, the fame, none of it was worth what he worth to me. He was everything and I was nothing.

Before I could give an answer to his question, his cellphone hollered for attention. He reached up over his head where the cell was dancing across the floor.

Leaning over to touch his arm, I begged, “Don’t answer it. Please.”

We were having a good time. I left my cell home. Why did his have to be in the bloody gazebo fucking up our schmaltzy moment?

He glanced at my hand on his arm, thought about it for like zero seconds, before apologizing, “Sorry, I have to. That’s Marsha’s ring tone.”

Pulling my hand away, I sat up. Marsha. The trollop who stole his sperm and impregnated herself had a goddamn ring tone. I listened. Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean.

Wonder what my ring tone was…

Jahleel eyeballed me as he picked up the phone and answered it. “Marsh, this better be about Claire.” He listened for half a minute and then he was up on his feet, nodding as if the conniving slut on the other end could see him. “‘Kay, I’ll be there in a few.” He hung up and stuffed the phone in his back pocket, then looked down at me.

I wasn’t sure what I was feeling then. Numb, perhaps. The competition. Not Marsh, but Claire. You can’t compete with a man’s child. You just can’t.

Crouching down with a sigh, he touched the side of my face. “Sorry about this, Sassy, but I gotta go. Claire’s been rushed to the hospital. Severe asthma attack or something. Marsha says she’s been cryin’ for me.”

Sperm-Stealing Marsha is lying through her goddamn teeth, I wanted to say. Instead, I nodded. “It’s okay. Ride safe.”

Getting to my feet, I picked up my denim shirt-dress and donned it.

Jahleel placed his hand over mine to stop me as I popped in the first button, frowning. “You’re not stayin’?”

“You coming back?”

“Well, I do live here,” he smarted.

“Don’t get pissy with me,” I retorted, a little peeved. “I mean tonight. Are you coming back tonight?”

“The fuck are you askin’ me exactly? If I’m gonna sleep at Marsha’s?”

“Yes, JK, that’s exactly what I’m asking.”

The skin around his eyes tightened as he scraped his teeth over his lower lip. He could get cheesed all he wanted; I didn’t give two craps.

“I’m not fuckin’ her,” he bit out.

“Well, if that’s the truth, I can expect you back here by midnight, right?”

He stepped into my space, circled his arms around me, and kissed me softly. “Midnight.”

Then he left.

For the next hour, I laid in that gazebo looking out at the rose petals and candle-decorated pool as I forced weak, whiny Saskia out of me and welcomed back the old, strong Saskia. I was going to need her if I planned on keeping Jahleel.

I loved this dream.

Because this was the first time a sex dream allowed me to come, instead of having me wake up right before the climax.

My hips shot up off the bed as I cried out at the intense pleasure that raced through me. I came with a force. Sweet baby Jesus, this was some dream. Some orgasm.

But then I felt warm hands on me, the air shifting, then weight on top of me. A steel-hard cock pushed into me next, tearing me open, and I moaned at the utter pleasure of it.

It wasn’t a dream. It was him. My life.

My real life.

With a blissful smile, I flickered my eyes open and met his hooded ones staring down at me.

“Hey,” he whispered, his hair falling down in his face. God, he was beautiful.

“Hey, yourself,” I breathed back, smile still intact as he moved in and out of me, uncharacteristically slowly.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then it just remained agape as his eyes shuttered down and a groan rumbled in his throat. “Wait…I need a…Fuck, Sassy, stop moving your hips…Jesus…”

I didn’t. It was too good watching him come undone above me. “Missed me?”

“I…Ah, fuck…” His hands came up and cupped my face desperately hard, then he kissed me even harder as he flexed in, out, in, bit my tongue, then stilled. Falling completely apart with a stiffening orgasm.

“Waow,” I teased. “That was quick.”

Enervated, he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Was jerkin’ off while I sucked you…you were so wet…” he defended. “And yes, I did miss you all night.”

All night?

Peering over his shoulder, I looked to the bay windows and realized that the sun was already ascending. It was morning. He stayed out all night. With her. Even though we agreed on midnight. He slept there.

My body must have given off some signal or something, because he pushed up on his forearms and stared down at me with an uncertain expression.

“Midnight,” I said in a quiet tone, aiming for calm. “We agreed on midnight.”

“Yeah, I know. But when we were leaving the hospital Claire was cryin’ for me to come with them. So I went. Spent the night in Claire’s room answering 101 questions about nothing. Next thing I knew, she was jumping up and down on top of me and it was morning. Sorry, Sassy.”

He expected me to believe him? “You fucked her, didn’t you?”

“You know,” he seethed, getting off me, off the bed, eyes narrowing to slits. “There’s another question you could’ve asked me to avoid unnecessary fuckin’ arguments. Another question that would’ve made me feel like you actually give a shit about more than my dick.”

I sat up in bed, using the sheets to cover me up.

Jahleel angrily dragged on his boxers. “A question that goes something like: ‘Will your daughter be okay?’ or ‘Was it anything threateningly serious? ‘“

Crap. I was awful. Here I was worrying about Marsha when the real deal was that his daughter was ill and he was being a good father by being there for her.

He didn’t give me a chance to apologize, though, as he went on. “You’ve got no idea how hard I worked to get to this point with her, for her to know who I am to her. I was a stranger to her, and now she fuckin’ cries for me. I missed four fuckin’ years of her life. This means a lot to me, Sassy.” Marching over to the bedroom door, he wrenched it open. “I’m her father, Saskia. She owns me, too.”

Ouch. I winced as he dropped that one and disappeared through the door.

She owns me, too.

Well, wasn’t that a wakeup call? Not like I was trying to shun his daughter or anything. It was Marsha who I didn’t like. Still, he was right. I should have acted like I gave a crap about his daughter. And I did. Care about Claire, that is. But I was so blinded with jealousy and distrust that I failed to see what was important.

Jahleel must really love me to put up with me and my nonsense.

Slipping out of bed, I plodded over to his chest of drawers and took out one of his plain white tees, pulling it over my head as I shuffled out the bedroom and went in search of him.

Found him in the kitchen arranging ingredients to prepare breakfast. His back was turned to me as he filled a kettle with water at the sink, but he must’ve felt my presence, because he spoke without turning around. “You’re never gonna trust me again, are you?”

I didn’t answer. Why bother? He knew it was the truth. Last time, he’d promised me exclusivity then went straight ahead and unapologetically cheated.

My memory catapulted back to that night.

Leave. I won’t be there.

He’d tried to get me to leave the house. Because he knew what he was going to do. Therefore, if I hadn’t been there to catch him in the act, he would’ve easily cheated and I wouldn’t have known about it. He would’ve carried on dating me as if nothing never happened, most likely having an affair with Krissy behind my back.

So, no, trusting him wholly again was miles away from here. And that was a problem. A huge problem. Because we were bloody engaged. About to get married. And there was absolutely no trust on my behalf.

Jahleel turned off the tap and set the kettle on the stove before turning around to face me, gripping the counter-top behind him. He almost read helpless.

“I know. It’s my fault. I’ve given you solid, inexcusable reasons not to trust me,” he said quietly, humbly. “But you have to believe me when I say you’re all I want. I’ve never been in a place like this before and I feel so fuckin’ helpless tryin’ to convince you at every turn. There was a time when I wanted nothing and no one. Now I want everything with you. But you don’t trust me and you don’t believe I’ll stay, and I don’t know how to keep you. I’m tryin’, but no matter how hard I squint, I can’t see any future happiness with us except for arguments, accusations, and assumptions. We’re just stuck in one fuckin’ place with no progress whatsoever and I can’t…”

What’s he saying?

I walked up to the kitchen island separating us, gripping onto its edges to stop my fingers from trembling. “What’re you saying, JK?”

Moving away from the sink, he came across to the island, standing opposite me, pressing his palms flat on the counter. “I’m saying, you need some time to yourself to figure out if this is what you want. If I’m what you want.”

Oh God, no. I gripped the counter harder, but my hands trembled anyway. “I don’t need time to myself to know that. Because that’s bloody easy. I’ve known since the very second you touched me in that dancing room back in Manchester. Yes, this is what I want. You’re who I want.”

“A man you can’t trust?”

“No—I…I just need time—”

“Exactly what I just said.”

“No!” I shouted, slamming my fists down on the counter. “Not that kind of time. Not time away from you. I meant that I need time to trust you again.”

“You need time overall, Sassy.”

“You are not the one to determine that!”

Jahleel pushed back from the island, grabbed his vegetable basket, cutting board and knife, brought them over and started chopping. “It wasn’t a suggestion, Saskia. I’m telling you to leave.”

“What?”

“Two weeks, come back and tell me what you decide.”

“You’re asking me to leave your house, your life?”

“Telling,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “Not asking.”

He couldn’t look at me. He was playing tough, playing man, when he knew this was hard. He couldn’t even be an asshole with me anymore without me reading right through it. This was bullcrap and he knew it.

Rounding the island, I sidled up beside him, hand on my hip as I stared up at his side profile. He still wouldn’t look at me, his hands working as he chopped sweet peppers at professional-chef-speed.

“Look at me and tell me to leave,” I dared him.

“Don’t care for your games now, Saskia.”

“It’s Sassy. You call me Sassy!” He was the only person who called me by that name, and I cherished it. Now he was taking that away, too? “Look at me and tell me to leave, JK.”

When minutes ticked by and he did nothing but chop fucking vegetables, I tipped up on my toes so my lips reached up to his ears, and hissed, “I’m only going to leave because I think you’re the one who needs some time to figure out if this is what you want. Two weeks is all I’m giving you. And no, I’m not gonna do the whole ‘take the ring off and throw it at you’ thing. You gave me this ring. You asked me to marry you. This ring is mine. You are mine. And if two weeks passes by and your head is still stuck up your fucking shitty arse, I’m coming for you.”

As I lowered back down from my tippy toes, I thought I glimpsed something akin to a smile on his face. But that wasn’t verified, because his face was as hard as granite by the time I double checked to be sure.

Turning on my heels, I marched back to his bedroom and stole one of his boxers, hauled it on under the previously stolen white tee, scooped up my car keys from the dresser, and stormed back out.

As I passed through the living room, I looked across to the kitchen. Jahleel was still chopping away. There was a lot of chopped vegetables there. A lot more than I think he really needed for whatever he would be preparing. Not once did he look up as I stomped through the house and out the door.

If he thought he was backing out of this, he was sadly mistaking. Not a chance on this wretched earth I was giving him up. He wanted me to stop whining and accusing, I would, but he wasn’t leaving me, that’s for sure.

I eased into my Mercedes convertible and fucked-off down the driveway. When I braked at the gate to make a left turn out, I shot a glance into the rear view mirror to look back at the house.

And there standing at the window of his living room, was Jahleel. Watching me leave.

Something he knew deep down he didn’t want me to do.

“I love you, too, Jahleel Kingston,” I whispered to the rear view mirror as I drove off.

Leaving him alone to his guilt.

Chapter Four

“Have I ever told you that I love you? Well, I love you. So, so much. Like, really, really love you. Seriously. I mean, love as in love—”

“Okay! I get it, you love me,” I said through a laugh, cutting off Alina’s ebullience over the surprise party I threw for her eighteenth birthday.

The party was supposed to be a lot bigger, grander, but I’d completely forgotten to have Stacey, my assistant, set a reminder for Alina’s birthday, and ended up remembering when it was down to the wire. So at last minute, I settled on renting out an exclusive night club and whipped up something quick. Still ace, though.

I wanted to be the “cool mom,” after all.

Not just that, but because of the relationship hiatus I was suffering through, adding to the fact that she had a crush on Jahleel, I’d been a bit unreasonable with her of late. Which she didn’t deserve.

When I sat down with her a couple days ago to apologize for my moodiness, I was happy to learn that her Jahleel-crush had died a slow and painful death the minute she set eyes on her new friend’s older brother, Davian. The garage band lead singer, son of once-upon-a-time legendary rock star, Dave Hamilton. Which was precisely the reason I invited his band, Ice Steam, to play at Alina’s party.

Hence her exuberance.

Seemed Davian had eyes for her, too, as he’d been sneaking longing glances at her when she wasn’t looking, even with their age difference.

Davian was freshly twenty-five. Alina was freshly eighteen—though unbelievably more mature that her age.

As huge as her crush was on Davian, you’d never guess it if you saw them together. She was a complete woman around her crush, never gushing or blushing, never giggling or flustered. She would stare him right in the eyes and spoke to him without batting an eyelash.

Alina, I was in awe of her, that girl. I was a grown woman, and I couldn’t even do that with Jahleel. Even at this stage where we were engaged. I was still a dumb klutz around him.

As Alina’s brilliant smile dimmed, a solemn expression tinged with a hint of fear supplanted.

“What is it, Alina?” I asked her, touching her arm.

The gorgeous new adult was resplendent in a gold-toned cutesy dress cropped mid-thigh. Her hair—long, dark, and straight—flowed down her back. Minimal make-up, and an inherent beauty mark above the left of her upper lip. She was stunning.

Lion had been trying to get her to make a portfolio so he could land her a runway model deal ever since he laid sight on her. Damn Lion. All that man ever saw were dollar signs.

Alina ran her thumb-pad over the tops of her nude painted fingernails. Nervous. “I was wondering…um, Cousin is coming back next week and, um…”

“You want to continue living with me,” I finished for her.

The thumb-pad over the fingernails thing continued. “I really like living with you. And Amanda and Ferbie and Sylvie. Even Amy and Jamie, and my new friends next door. And the noise and the fun and the love and I feel like we’re a family and—”

She stopped yammering when I placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. “Alina, I wanted to steal you before he even asked me to keep you for a while, and I don’t intend on giving you back.

Her dark eyes flashed with a gleam of hope. “You think he’ll let me stay? He’s so overprotective and—”

“Scary?”

“Quite,” she affirmed, holding back a smile.

“Well, I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf. He broke my heart. I rebuilt it with bricks instead of straws this time. No way can he blow this Brit down.”

Just then, Davian came over to interrupt, giving me an apologetic smile. “S’cuse me, but is it alright if I steal the birthday girl for a dance?”

Alina slid him a bored, uninterested glance then looked back to me. Fucking awesome.

Davian shifted on his feet. “You’re making me say ‘please,’ Ali. And I hate that frickkin’ word. Swear I’m a better dancer than Fresh Prince.”

Compressing my lips to fight back a smile, I watched as Alina looked at him again and shrugged, as though she were doing him a favor out of pity. She walked off ahead of him, and Davian had to catch up with her, snaking an arm around her waist.

Alina glanced over her shoulder back at me and, grinning, she mouthed, “Fight for me. Please.”

Oh, I would. I loved her too much. And I wasn’t afraid of her cousin as others seemed to be.

“You need to stop accusing me of breaking something I never had to begin with,” an all too familiar voice said from behind me.

I jumped at the deep, sexy rumble and spun around to see my sneaky ex-lover stepping out from his hiding spot behind a potted palm tree in a corner to the right.

My hot-as-hell ex-lover. Suave as usual, semi-formally dressed in jeans, dress shirt, and blazer. He looked fresh. Well-rested. Well-fed. Totally fuckable.

He looked like himself. Chad.

“Seriously?” I guiltily raked my gaze over him in a leisure ogle. “This a new hobby of yours, Chad? Camouflaging behind potted plants to eavesdrop on girls’ period talks? If you wanted to know what a tampon feels like up your arse, all you had to do was ask. I’d be happy to shove one up there for ya’.”

Chad raised a “not-funny” eyebrow at me, then came up and pressed a hand to my lower back, urging me forward as he ordered, “Walk.”

I fell in line with his strides. Not like I had a choice. He was practically pushing me along.

“You have no right touching me like this,” I muttered through a smile plastered on my face for the inquisitive eyes watching us as we wove through the throngs.

“You used to love it when I touch you like this,” he shot back, rebelliously making a swirl of his thumb on my bare skin, as my clothing was…sparse.

A red tie-front blouse cropped just above my navel, a black leather flare skirt cropped mid-thigh, and studded black biker boots.

“Chad,” I hissed in warning, smile still in tack for the crowd. “You think this is going to make JK forgive you any sooner?”

“I’ve tried repeatedly to kiss and make up with him. Keep failing. He’s never going to forgive me, so, what do I got to lose?”

“You don’t think it’s because he knows you’re not sorry, fuckwit?”

The name-calling was an attempt to get him to move his hand from my bare skin, but he wasn’t budging. And his touch was too warm and familiar. I knew all too well what those fingers caressing my lower back were capable of. How loud they could make me scream, make my toes curl and my heart pound.

“I’m sorry for hiding us from him, Saskia. But I’m sure as fuck not sorry about us,” he whispered deep into my ear with a serious, no-apologies tone. “If you could guarantee me, right now, that you want me for me and not as substitute, and I could actually believe you…”

“You’d do it all over again,” I finished.

“Damn straight.”

A sigh of defeat was all I had left.

The guy wasn’t just frustratingly arrogant, but incorrigible to boot.

As we were about to mount a set of stairs Chad navigated us to, Lion materialized in front of us.

“You two mind tellin’ me what the fuck is goin’ on here?” Lion demanded, his face a picture of pissed-the-hell-off.

Chad pressed his lips together and looked down at me. “Nothing damning. Mommy and Daddy are just heading up to the courtroom to settle on who gets to keep the kids. Now that we’re divorced and all.”

“Don’t start with me, Chad,” Lion warned.

Chad chuckled in sheer amusement.

I was afraid to.

Lion looked dead at me. “Where’s JK?”

Aiming for nonchalance, I shrugged my shoulders. “No idea. Last time I checked, he was taking a break. From me. Why don’t you call him?”

Before Lion could say more, I moved quickly up the stairs, but I didn’t miss him grumbling, “Fuckin’ knew this shit would happen.”

As Chad and I got to the top of the stairs, I sought confirmation on what I’d just discovered, “You own this club?”

After taking a right turn, he stopped at one of two doors facing each other in a dead end, produced a key, turned it in the lock, and opened the door as the answer to my question.

“How else would I have known a birthday party was being thrown for my cousin, which I wasn’t invited to?”

“You weren’t here!” I returned in defense. “We weren’t expecting you to be here until next week.”

Chad smiled, a tight, humorless one, and moved across the spacious office over to a one-way glass wall that gave view of the entire club below.

The office didn’t hold much despite the space. A modern office desk, an office chair, two regular chairs in front of the desk, and a built-in bar stocked with the finest alcohol on the opposite end.

“I’m like Judgment Day,” Chad said, looking out the glass, his jaw hard. “No one ever knows the day or hour I’ll show up.”

Sidling up beside him, I ignored his dark mood and broached, “So, Alina…”

“I heard her.”

“And?”

With a lift of his chin, he indicated Alina and Davian on the dance floor, grooving a little too intimately. “You know she’s crushing on him. You know he’s too old for her. Yet you still let her go off with him.”

“She’s of dating age, Chad. Stop being an arse, yeah?”

“He’s too old for her.”

“You know Alina. She’s way too mature for guys her age,” I pointed out. “Hand her a sod under twenty-three, and she’ll eat him alive, I guarantee that. A sucker who knows not his arse from his elbow won’t be able to handle her, Chad.”

“What if—”

“You don’t have to worry about her getting knocked-up either. She’s too smart. Don’t underestimate her. This sod is arse-over-tit for her, and I bet he’s gonna have to work damn hard for it. I already feel sorry for the fella.”

“Listen,” Chad said, swiveling his head to look down at me, “I get that you both adore each other yada yada, but you live a very busy life, Saskia. You’re engaged to be married now, and I can’t see how you’re gonna fit her into your life. Her safety is more important to me than anything else right now, and I’m not sure I want her making contacts with outsiders just yet.”

“You’re already having her home schooled! The bloody hell are you trying to do, suffocate her?”

“You don’t understand, Saskia. She needs to be safe right now, and she’s safer with me.”

“Safer with you?” Okay, time to play dirty. “You’re more dangerous for her than I am,” I hissed.

Squeezing myself between the wall glass and his body, so that my back was against the glass and my chest almost pressing up against his, I spoke in an uber-quiet voice, “When we were dating, you left your safe open one night, and let’s just say I was…curious. I took a peek. And the things I found told me you’re dangerous, Chad. Very dangerous. You had fifteen different passports with fifteen different names for fifteen different countries. I never asked you what you do with your life, because I was smart enough to know I was safer not knowing. But now I’m sure as shite gonna use it to argue that I’m the better guardian for, Alina.”

Chad watched me with complete impassivity for a moment before breaking out a smile as though he’d been waiting for this.

He was such a bloody mindfucker.

“This is why I—” He stopped and cleared his throat, shook his head. “I knew you saw the contents of that safe. I set it up. Deliberately left it open for you to see, only what I wanted you to see. To test you. Because I felt like I could trust you, but I needed to be sure.

“And you passed. You saw the contents and you kept your mouth shut. Never asked me a single question. Never went behind my back and tried snooping. You just accepted me for what you didn’t know I was. Do you know how fucking hard it is to find a woman like that? You won my hard-earned trust right there and then, Saskia. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have entrusted you with my little cousin who’s worth twelve billion dollars.”

“Whoa!!” I exclaimed. “Twelve. Billion. Dollars?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, our words quieter than a whisper as though we were discussing top secret. Which it probably was, for all I knew. “But she can’t know that yet. I can’t divulge the gory details to you, but I’ve been busy trying to distort her identity and ensure her safety all around so she’ll be able to live a normal life. And right now, I’m far from successful. So if she’s going to live with you, what happened the other day—her being left home alone without security—can’t ever happen again, or I’m taking her. Got that?”

Score! I was getting Alina. “How do you kn—”

“I’ve got my own securities tailing your securities, Saskia. I know everything.” Then an arrogant smirk popped on his face as he added, “I’m also co-owner of the company you hired them from.”

“Seriously? You’re co-owner of every goddamn thing here,” I said in disgust. “With who?”

“Silent partners are precisely that, silent.”

I switched to prying elsewhere. “So, are you going to tell me about your other life? Why you’re fifteen different persons?”

Placing his right hand palm-flat next to my head on the glass, he leaned in further so I could smell his oh-so-fucking-awesome scent, and moved his lips to my ear, whispering, “I wish… But that’s for the woman who whispers my name in her sleep every night.”

Crap.

Right then, the office door opened and slammed shut so hard the liquor bottles in the built-in bar rattled.

Chad looked over his shoulder. I looked under his arm. And standing there in the room, was my fiancé, Jahleel Kingston.

More crap.

“Heard I’d find you here,” he said, voice cold, glower like fire. “I take it you need an extended break?”

Ducking under Chad’s arm to get free from our very uncompromising position, I took a step towards the love of my life, my arms held out in desperation like a pathetic idiot. “JK, this isn’t what it looks like…”

How many buggers have used that same line when things were exactly what they looked like? Plenty. Except this wasn’t. It wasn’t, goddammit! And he needed to know that.

He moved so fast. In two strides he was at the office desk, overturning it with such force, it split down the middle and broke in two solid halves.

Okay. He wasn’t angry. He was fucking furious.

Chad stood there watching with his hands in his pockets. Watching unfazed like he was at the goddamn cinema.

“It’s like you’re tryin’ to fuckin’ repay me for everything I’ve ever done to you!!” Jahleel barked at me. “First you drive me crazy everyfuckingday with your nagging to push me away. And now you do this? Again? With my fuckin’ ring on your finger?!”

Keeping his hands to himself, Chad approached Jahleel cautiously as one would a cornered animal, then leaned forward and whispered something very lengthy and inaudible to him.

When Chad drew back and shook his head apologetically, Jahleel replied in an angry whisper, then Chad whispered back.

They were whisper warring.

What’s with the damn whispering?

“She’s not lying, brother.” I caught only that much the last time Chad whispered to Jahleel. But knowing Chad, he probably meant for me to hear that.

Jahleel glanced over Chad’s shoulder to a trembling, heart-thudding me, and made a disappointed shake of his head. “Get out.”

Chad stepped back. “You can’t kick me out of my own office.”

Jahleel arched a brow. “It’s mine, too.”

“Now you give a shit about our clubs?”

“Get. the fuck. out, Chad.”

With a shrug, Chad started towards the door. “Okay. But now that you do give a shit, you’ll be replacing that desk you broke.”

Chad left, closing the door behind him, shutting me in with a seriously cheesed-off Jahleel.

“This gonna be a habit of yours?” he asked. “Every time we have a disagreement you gonna run to my best friend? Are you setting me up to fuckin’ murder him or something? Because I will, Sassy. Irrespective of our friendship and business relationship, I will kill him. To keep you.”

Tears burned my eyeballs. He was hurting. And his hurt was hurting me. “We didn’t do anything. I swear to you, JK. We were just talking about Alina and—”

“I love you, Saskia,” he confessed, moving towards me, his expression a twisted combination of agony, disheartenment, and plea. “If you need me to say it more often, I will. I’ll say it, okay? But this”—he waved a hand around the room, indicating what he just walked in on—”I can’t handle it. I owned a heart, but you have it now, take care of it. Please.”

“I’m sorry—”

He shut me up.

His tongue was in my mouth shutting me the hell up.

Palms pressed up against his chest, I kissed him back with equal fervor, giving back as he gave it.

I’ve missed this man. It had been ten days since our reluctantly agreed upon break, and I’d been well prepared to go banging on his door at the break of dawn. Because it was arduous keeping away from the man I love more than anything else in this world for two whole weeks. Hard as shite. And I had to fight myself from calling him.

But no worries. He was here. He came. Wish it was under better circumstances, but that was irrelevant. Fact was, he was here. And he still loved me in spite of my cock-up just now.

Jahleel smoothed his palms over my abs, moving up to tug the knot of my tie-front blouse. It fell open. Unceremoniously yanking down my bra, he sucked a nipple into his hot, eager mouth.

He was ravishing me with a need I had no problem meeting. I understood. He missed me, like I missed him. So he needed me, just as I needed him. Right now.

Sliding my hands from his chest right down to his pelvis, I fumbled with his belt buckle, quickly undoing the button and zipper of his jeans.

Shoving his pants and boxers down his hips to free him, I grasped him and trailed my index finger through the little slit on his head. Collecting the pre-cum it sprouted, I brought my finger to my mouth and sucked it off. Jahleel growled at this.

Cock hard and ready. Wanting in.

As I wrapped my fingers around him and began stroking gently, he flexed forward into my fist, letting out a throaty, “Only your touch, Sassy…” before moving his mouth to my neck, sucking on my skin while I pumped him.

I could flood the whole room with how wet I was. I’ve longed for this, this beautiful thing in my hand, that proposed to be mine and mine alone.

Slapping my hand away, Jahleel reached under my skirt, hooked his thumb in the crotch of my knickers and ripped it clean off.

Impatient. Starving. Rabid.

Sliding his fingers over my sopping folds, he groaned something unintelligible before thrusting two inside, forcing me to swallow a deep moan.

But just as soon as his fingers went in, they were sliding out as Jahleel gripped the back of my thighs and lifted me up against the glass. My legs reflexively locked around him, hands gripping his shoulders.

Letting go with one hand, he positioned his dick at my entrance, his golden gaze burning through me. That look on his face, I knew it well now. That look meant this fuck was going to be fast, hard, and quick.

Yeah, his wide head was tearing me open with a force, going deep, bucking.

A cry tore up my throat. “Argghhhhhgod, JK!”

Then it was on.

Jahleel style.

He fucked me upside the one-way glass. People below oblivious to what was taking place above their heads. Two people in love racing each other to a planet with no air supply, which was bound to suck away our sanity and energy and fucking souls.

I loved this man. With every part of me. Every inch. Every meter. Every fiber.

And that’s why I came.

Not because he was oh so good at fucking, but because I loved him. Loved him hard. So I came hard. Digging my fingernails into his shoulders, whispering how much I loved him to the ends of the earth.

He grunted and groaned, protracting my orgasm, sucking me dry. Then he plunged into me harder, and even harder, until he came with a violent force, exploding inside me. Head tossed back, veins bulging in his neck, glistening with sweat.

We remained like that for a while, catching our breaths, waiting for our heartbeats to settle down from that great rush, the glass vibrating against my back with the baseline of Jhene Aiko’s Stay Ready.

Releasing me, Jahleel allowed me to slide down the glass, back to my now weakened, wobbly feet.

I fixed my clothes, wishing we were somewhere else where we could just roll over and cuddle each other to sleep.

Once Jahleel was done doing up his jeans, he moved in to me, pressing me up against the glass. His face was scruffy again. He rebelliously refused to shave whenever we were at war. Too bad he didn’t know that being unshaved didn’t make him any less desirable. So he wasn’t punishing anyone. There was no getting out of being as hot as he was—unless he took a bath in a tub of acid, of course.

Dropping his forehead to mine, he whispered, “Promise me something.”

“Anything,” I said in a rush, eager to make up for both earlier and our nonsense break.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he said. “Not even if I ask you to. Not even if I’m a complete asshole, sayin’ mean things or shouting at you. Don’t leave. At all. Don’t ever let me push you out of my life, assuming that’s what I want. That’ll never be what I want. Always stay, no matter what, because that’s what I need.”

“Okay,” I whispered back, nodding. “I promise.”

“Can you leave here now?”

“Yeah. I’ll just have to talk with Ben and John about Alina—”

“Do it. Then come home with me.”

“Okay.”

Chapter Five

After letting all the important people know I was leaving early, I met up with Jahleel. He was leaning against a wall, one leg propped up, arms crossed, watching with something akin to pride as the hot pack, his dancers, clashed with another crew on the floor, crowd divided into two halves, cheering on.

Granted, his dancers had more cheerleaders than the other crew. I mean, not only were they extremely talented, they were all smoking hot. Hence my nicknaming them the hot pack. Any single, horny girl would choose that crew.

“Ready?” he asked, uncrossing his arms.

When I nodded and grinned like a goon, he wrapped his arm around my waist and started for the exit.

Once again, Lion interrupted. “You two might wanna hang on a minute longer.”

“What, why?” Jahleel asked with zero patience.

“Word got out you were throwin’ a party here, and outside the club right now is mayhem.”

“Fans,” I muttered.

Jahleel sighed.

“Know you’re not gonna like this, JK, but at this rate, you need your own security. I sent for one from your—from Chad’s company.” Lion checked his watch. “Should be here in ‘bout ten minutes. Since you, Kia, has set John & Ben on Alina, Thomas alone can’t cut it for both of you.”

Jahleel was surprisingly acceptable of the circumstances. “That bad?”

Lion crooked a finger at us and walked off. We followed him to the exit where one of the club guards opened the door just a crack for us to see outside. The thick stream of fans got a mere glimpse of us and immediately began screaming their faces off. It was like frigging LA out there.

Almost all the women wore red ball-caps which had JK’s Babe emblazoned on the front.

The bloody hell?

We popped our heads back inside and the guards shut the door.

“Hang on,” I said, vibrating with irritation. “A few weeks ago they were all for JK and Saskia. Now they’re wearing JK’s Babe ball caps? Where’s the respect for me?”

Jahleel chuckled, but I wasn’t amused in the least. No one was JK’s babe but me. The fact that these people even knew to make the caps in his favorite color, red…

Lion shrugged. “Dunno, Kia. Forgot to tell you those caps are hot shit in LA right now. Questioned a fan about it, said she bought it on Ebay from someone claimin’ to be JK’s brother. But I’ve got someone lookin’ further into it. “

By this time, Jahleel was flat-out laughing. Doubling forward and resting his hands on his knees as he cachinnated. How on earth did he find it even remotely funny that our engagement was being neglected altogether?

Balling my fist, I landed a solid punch to his impenetrable shoulder for laughing.

“Ah. Sorry,” he said, coughing out another rumble as he straightened up. “But this famous/fans thing is so ridiculous, I can’t even take it serious anymore.”

“Well, it’s serious, JK,” Lion told him, voice flat and even. “Fans can be real fuckin’ psychos.”

“Good thing you got me a bodyguard then, huh?” Jahleel responded. “Lemme know when I can leave—seeing I’ve got no control over my life anymore.” He said the words, but I couldn’t tell if he was being serious, sarcastic, bitter, or concealing his irritation with the whole situation just to appease me. Turning to me, he said in a mock British accent, “Fancy a dance, love?”

Right. The last guess: he was hiding his irritation. Covering it up with facetiousness. Accepting it all for me.

Forcing a smile, I nodded, and he slung an arm around my neck rude-boy style, moving out to the dance floor.

We stole the middle of the floor just as Bruno Mars’ Just the Way You Are began playing. Jahleel gave me his famous crooked grin and tugged me into him, crushing his lips to mine right there in front of everyone.

Surprised by the attack, I pressed a hand to his chest, but only to gain balance so I could kiss him back, as his arm was still hooked around my neck, making me feel like a biker’s Old Lady.

Breaking the kiss, he stared down at me for a long moment, his golden eyes something fierce in the dark. Then he mouthed, “You’re amazing,” before unhooking his arm from around me, and in one smooth flow, caught me with his other hand and reeled me out, my hair whipping around, then he pulled me back in.

A happy giggle bubbled from me at the sudden movement.

He started dancing, and I was no longer in control of my feet. He moved for both of us. Hands on my waist, guiding me. Of course, he knew I couldn’t dance, so he was doing me a huge favor.

The song bled into another, and then another, and we danced and danced. Me grinning like an idiot the whole way through. Music blaring, people moving, dancing, yet I saw only one person. Jahleel. For me, no one else was in the room but us. I loved him so much.

“Can’t believe…I’ve been missin’ out on this…all these years,” Jahleel whispered brokenly into my ear as we rocked slowly to Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years. “You’re such a spectacular fuckin’ view, Sassy. Priceless. Fuckin’ priceless. Don’t wanna look anywhere else but here. Through any other windows but your eyes. Walk through any other door but your heart.”

I stared up at him, unblinking, as his words seeped deep into my soul. I felt like I’ve been loving him for a thousand years, too. And it was so surreal that we were finally together. We fought, we worried, we doubted, but in the end, we knew we belonged together. We knew we were each other’s forevers.

A tear stained my cheek, and Jahleel gave me a faint smile, wiping it away with his thumb.

“Do you love me?”

“Forever,” I answered without hesitation.

“Good,” he said. “‘Cause I love me, too. Nice knowing I’m not the only who thinks I’m the shit.”

Giggling like the giggly sluts I hated so much, I smacked his arm. “Arse.”

He watched me with soft eyes like he adored the crap out of me.

Of course, Lion had to bloody interrupt. Again. “Bodyguard’s been briefed. Free to go now.”

We started off the dance floor, and Jahleel leaned down to whisper, “So, do the cocky assholes usually get into the British girls’ panties at the end of the night?”

“No,” I answered with a serious expression. “They usually get hair-gripping blow-jobs. British style.”

I woke up to his fingers trailing along the deep arch of my lower back, over the rise of my bum, landing under my butt cheeks, down my thigh, before starting all over again.

Opening my eyes, I moaned in appreciation of the expression on his face. One of adoration and wonder, as his gaze transfixed on his fingers outlining my body.

“The female body is an amazing creation,” he glorified, gaze still mesmerized.

One hand propping up his head, he lay on his side, appreciating my body with his fingers and eyes. I was on my stomach, face turned to him. We were both naked and freshly rejuvenated from last night’s exertions, crisp white sheets draped over his lower half, me uncovered.

Waking up in Jahleel’s bed gave me more warmth and contentment than waking up in my own. Guess it was the thought of seeing him there whenever I open my eyes from a long repose that gave me comfort.

The morning was rather quiet, save for the ceiling fan whipping above. I peeked up a little to look out the window and noticed the sun wasn’t even halfway in its quotidian ascent.

It was early. Too early. Why was he awake? Why the hell did he wake me?

As if he was a mind reader, he answered my unasked question while he continued his finger trailing. “We leave for a breakfast cruise in an hour.”

“Hmmmm,” I hummed, “that sounds—”

“With my family,” he added.

Completely unprepared for this, I shut up and swallowed.

Jahleel’s parents were righteous know-it-alls who’d probably hate me upon first sight. For all I knew they probably hated me already. I mean, I was famous. Of course, they knew who Saskia Day was.

Whatever, though. I could deal with his parents. I could sustain a hard knock from them if need be. I could do it because I loved Jahleel. However, he never said “parents,” he said “family,” which meant she was going to be there. Oh, hell. “Does family means—”

“Yes.” His fingers left me and he finally brought his gaze to mine. “Krissy will be there. And Claire. We’ll be pickin’ her up from Marsha on our way to the dock.”

My sigh following that tidbit was audible. I wasn’t even on the cruise yet and I was already uncomfortable.

Jahleel studied me for a beat. “You cool with this?”

“Bloody hell, no!” I snapped, surprised at my own outburst. “You couldn’t have given me notice so I could mentally prepare for this crap?”

“We were on a break, remember?”

“You were on a damn break! Not me.”

Calm as a humid morning after a storm, he spoke slowly, evenly. “No, I wasn’t. You were. I loved you no less throughout those ten days. In fact, I loved you more with each passing day, because every hour without you reminded me just how deeply I feel for you. But I was never on your mind like you were on mine. ‘Cause where did I find you? All cozy with my best friend. Again.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. What was there to say? Veraciously speaking, if the roles were reversed and I was the one who walked in on him like that with another woman, there was nothing he could’ve said or done to make me believe him. Most likely, because of my lack of trust in him, and my expectation of him screwing up, I probably wouldn’t even consider forgiving him.

So to be fair, he’d been putting up a lot with me of late and I wasn’t taking note of it. If I carried on in this vein, I’d lose him. And my goal was to keep him. Not lose him.

On this thought, I took a deep breath and sagely avoided what was bound to blow up into another huge, pointless argument, due to my own unreasonableness.

After all, Krissy was married now. Claire was now permanent in his life and there was no undoing that one.

He was with me. Not Marsha. Not Krissy. Me. The whole world knew he was with me. So what the fuck was my goddamn problem?

Flipping onto my side, I faced him. “Okay. I’ll come.”

Leaning in, he kissed me and whispered a sincere, “Thank you,” as though he wanted more than anything else for me to go on that breakfast cruise with him.

He nodded in the direction of the closet. “Met up with your stylist yesterday and bought some stuff for you. So you’d have shit here.”

Before I could say anything to that, he snapped his fingers with an “Oh,” and jumped up off the bed, disappeared bare-butted into the walk-in closet, then returned with a red, rectangular gift box.

Settling back in his side position on the bed, he set the box down between us, then used one long finger to push it over to me.

Arching a brow, I glanced down at the offering, up at him, then down at the box again.

He chuckled. “Just open the damn thing.”

A smile spreading across my face, I plucked off the card attached to the box.

So the world will know…

Itching with curiosity, I popped off the cover. Red velvet was ruffled inside. To reveal what it covered, I shifted the soft fabric aside.

Sheer beauty, that’s what.

A golden microphone glistened at me, resting comfortably on more red velvet. Embedded down the front was JK’s, in diamond cuts that weren’t exactly tiny. They were big, bright, and blatant, sending a clear, unmistakable message. I belonged to him. Diamonds are forever. So I belonged to him, forever.

When I only stared opened-mouthed at the microphone, which I was pretty sure cost him a small fortune to customize, he whispered, “This represents me. I want you to use it in each and every one of your performances from now on. I want the world to know who you belong to. When you get onstage, you get on there with me. Sing through me, Sassy, and let us tell the world together that we’re forever.”

Trying not to tear up like a silly, syrupy, sugary romance novel heroine, I smarted, “So you want me to sing on your mike, huh?”

Jahleel frowned at first, looking confused, then when he got what I was onto, he shook his head. “Why’d you gone and put that image in my head, Sassy? Now every time I see you singing on this mike, instead of listening, I’m gonna be picturing you singing on my mike.”

“It’s no problem.” I grinned. “I love singing on your mike.”

In the periphery of my vision, I saw his cock jerk to attention.

I licked my lips and hummed.

He groaned. “Stop it. Back to the gift.”

But I wasn’t interested in the golden mike at the moment. I preferred the real mike, so I pushed him on his back and shifted down on his body. “In fact, I’m overly willing to sing for you right now.”

Jahleel groaned again, deeper this time. He glanced at the clock on the wall and tried to shift away from me, but I dug my nails hard in his thighs and he kept still.

“Sassy….we—hmnnnnh,” he moaned, flexing his hips upwards when I curled my fingers around his steel-hard erection and squeezed. “We’re gonna be late…”

“In that case, I know the perfect song to sing right now,” I salaciously drawled, dipping the tip of my tongue in the slit on his engorged head, which evoked a long, long moan from him. “It’s called Quick Tricks.”

From where I sat in the back of the SUV parked outside Marsha’s charming Victorian condo, I could see her neck rolling around and around on her shoulders, her fingers snapping in Jahleel’s face as she argued on about God-knows-what, reacting to whatever it was he said to her when she opened the door.

Really though, this neurotic twat belonged in a Tyler Perry movie, what with all that finger snapping and neck attitude she’s got there.

Jahleel stood calm and patient with his hands in his pockets, watching her without a word as she spilled the attitude. Until little Claire came skipping through the door, a wide grin on her face as she bounced on her feet.

A middle-aged woman appeared in the doorway next and handed Jahleel a knapsack. Housemaid, babysitter or Grandmum, maybe. Whoever she was, she apparently answered to Jahleel and not Marsha.

Jahleel took the knapsack, clasped Claire’s tiny little hand in his, then turned and left without another glance at Marsha, who huffed and stomped back into the house, shooting the older woman a nasty glare.

My heart pained a little at the sight of Jahleel walking hand in hand with his daughter down the steps, smiling and laughing with her. She should have been our daughter. I was supposed to be the one to give him his first child, and that wretched woman stole it from me. She stole a piece of our dream. And none of this could be undone.

It sucked donkey’s arse.

The door opened and Jahleel lifted Claire inside, seating her beside me and snapping her seatbelt before he swung in and tapped on the headrest in front of him.

Nick, Jahleel’s new security guy was chauffeuring. Big, scary, and grumpy. Though, somehow, was familiar with Jahleel as though he knew him before he came to work for him.

The vehicle pulled off from the curb at Jahleel’s cue.

While Claire was busy fiddling with her seatbelt, a deep frown on her face, I looked over to her father who was rummaging through the knapsack with a deep frown of his own.

Le sigh…

“What was all that neck rolling about?” I inquired.

Without looking up from his digging, he answered, “She doesn’t like you.”

He said it so casually, simple, as if the mother of his child hating me wasn’t supposed to be regarded with any form of seriousness. Or maybe he expected me to expect her enmity.

Why would she fancy me, right? I had what she wanted. I won; she lost. Of course, she would hate my guts and not want me around her child.

As though she was never aware of my presence before, Claire’s head spun in my direction, her sandy-brown pigtails whipping, her golden eyes exact replicas of the strong, irresistible man sitting next her.

She was so pretty. When she grew up, she was going to be a total bombshell.

As her eyes traveled to my face, they widened and her mouth hung open. “Whoa! Cool! You’re the vampire lady!”

Vampire lady?

Ah, she must be referring to my most recent music video for my hit song, Bitten, in which I was a vampire sneaking into men’s room at night and sinking my fangs into their necks until they fell in love with me on the spot. Then I would laugh at them and jam my hand in their chest, rip their heart out, and take off with it still beating.

But my luck ran out when I snuck into a super-hot guy’s room one night, unaware that he was waiting for me with a trap. And when I flipped off his sheets to bite into his neck, there wasn’t a real man under the covers, but a dummy. The real man attacked me from behind and bit me. I convulsed and became human, instantly falling in love with him. We made love. We fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was alone in his bed with his bloodied heart beating in my palm, and he was nowhere to be seen. The video ended with me crying ugly tears over his heart while having flashbacks of our one night spent together.

Silly, I know. But that video has been number one on MTV, BET, and VH1 for the past eight weeks with way over one hundred million views on YouTube. And there were tons of questions on whether there would be a part two to the video, as fans wanted to know what the hell happened to the sexy hunk, where did he go, or who took him. Bitten was on top right now.

Claire turned excitably and tugged on the sleeve of Jahleel’s white thermal tee. “Look, Daddy, it’s the vampire lady who bit you!”

“Claire—” Jahleel started to say, eying me oddly.

But Claire chatted on, turning back to me. “Daddy said you bit him. And that he no longer has been human since. That you took his bloodied heart and ran away with it and we watched your video over and over and—”

“Claire!” Jahleel admonished, aiming to shut her up, shooting me a sheepish glance.

But this was much too juicy, so I grinned at Claire with widened eyes and prodded, “Really? What else did Daddy say?”

I wondered if she’d continue despite Jahleel’s warning, but then I remembered him telling me she was rude and disobedient. He’d gotten her to acknowledge him as her father, and to cry for him when she missed him, but maybe he hadn’t gotten her to start obeying yet.

I was proved right when Claire spared without remorse, “That he doesn’t want his heart back from vampire lady.” As if to remind me who vampire lady was, she added, “That’s you.”

When I glanced over at Jahleel, he was staring out the window, avoiding us, no doubt cheesed-off that Claire was spilling his secrets.

Without taking my eyes off him, I told Claire, “Don’t worry, I don’t ever intend on giving your Daddy his heart back. Not even for a thousand hearts in a jar. His heart is mine.”

At those words, Jahleel’s Adams apple bobbed in his throat, but he refused to look at us still.

Oblivious to her father’s discomfort, Claire yapped on, “My Daddy says that when I grow up, I am going to get bitten, too! I can’t wait! And he says I am never ever going to be the same never ever ever never again. Is this true, vampire lady?”

Sighing audibly, Jahleel dropped his head back on the headrest and slowly turned his gaze to me.

His face was blank. Impossible to read. But by this point in our relationship, I knew whatever he was masking beneath that blankness, was love. For me.

Eyes locked on his, I answered, “This is true.”

Chapter Six

By the time we got to the dock, my mood about the breakfast cruise had altered immensely, because Claire and I got along surprisingly well.

She was the sweetest little thing, which left me befuddled about Jahleel’s assessment of her being boorish. Except that she talked a lot—the whole journey to the dock—but with my sister, Timber, I was used to that.

I did get her to refrain from calling me “vampire lady,” but she kept pronouncing Saskia as Sastia. Sounds familiar? Yep. The same “mispronunciation” Jahleel had made back in Manchester when we first met.

Jahleel led ahead, seemingly annoyed he was being ignored altogether, while Claire and I trod behind chatting about inconsequential things, her little hand clasped in mine.

I wore an ankle-length, sleeveless white dress that Jahleel had bought specifically for this occasion. My hair a riot of stubborn curls around my face as usual. Conservativeness appeased his parents, he’d told me, even though he was casual in white jeans, white long-sleeved thermal tee, and white Jordan sandals. The early morning sun bounced off the inconsistent waves of his hair, and his now clean-shaved face seemed to glow somehow. Was that glow happiness?

He stopped at a yacht I estimated to be around a hundred feet, with KINGSTON slapped in bold letters on the side. Turning to us, he bent to lift up Claire in his arms, kissed her on the cheek, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my lips.

“Greatest commandment?”

My eyes went heavenward.

While we got dressed this morning, he’d briefed me on some of the basic Christian laws that his parents may or may not ask to test me, telling me it was imperative that all people, sinner or non-sinner, knew the greatest commanded of all. He’d taught me some other stuff about being fallen from grace and all that, but if I claimed to remember any of it, I’d be lying.

However, I did remember the greatest commandment, since it was so “imperative.” “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, and soul. And the second, love your neighbor as yourself.”

“Guess we’re ready, then,” he said, nodding in approval, looking more like a couth, urbane man and less of the pronouns-and-”ing”-eating rebel we both knew he was. “As I said, you don’t have to worry about my parents. They’re perfect. So annoyingly perfect you’ll be begging for some antagonism.”

Felicity pulled my lips in a smile as I leaned in for a better, longer kiss. He took it as I gave it. I loved him so.

Apparently bored with our tongue-locking, Claire rubbed her eyes and fussed. “Daddy, when are we going out on the water like you said?”

Jahleel chuckled and broke away, flicking one of Claire’s pigtails. “Now, bad girl.”

Turning back to the yacht, he carefully jumped down on the boat with Claire on his side. Once safely there, he lowered Claire down beside him and twisted around to help me down, but I was already leaping on my own.

He scowled at me when I landed, and I flashed him a chuffed grin and flipped my hair. “I’m a ‘badass,’ remember?”

“You could’ve hurt your ankles, Sassy,” he worried, wrapping one long arm around my waist and clasping Claire’s hand with the other as we entered the boat.

“Awww,” I teased, laughing. “You’re worried about my ankles.”

Claire broke free just then and bolted off into the opulently designed yacht, screaming, “Kwissy!”

She spoke so perfectly well, but still mispronounced people’s names. Kids were unfathomable.

Ahead of us in the belly of the boat, Krissy was crouched down with her arms open wide, and Claire ran smacking right into her, blabbing on about a whole jumble of things.

Sitting at a dinner table on the left of the room were two famous faces of Christianity, Mr. and Mrs. Kingston, along with a way-too-pretty man I knew to be Jahleel’s adopted brother, Trey.

They all stared in our direction, and Jahleel tightened his arm around my waist to remind me he was right there.

This was where I should smile and say my greetings to everyone, but I was too distracted by what was on Krissy’s head. She was sporting one of the ‘JK’s Babe’ ball-caps the fans were wearing outside the club the night before.

Was she doing this to exacerbate my psyche, or to make fun of Jahleel? No idea, but either way, I didn’t like her wearing that hat, knowing he’d chosen her over me before. For all I knew, this was to rub it in my face, telling me she was JK’s Babe.

As if realizing where my thoughts were, Jahleel squeezed his fingers into my waist and prompted my feet into action, propelling me over to his parents.

“Mom, Dad,” he said when we reached up to them. “You wanted to meet her, so here she is. Saskia Day. My fiancée.”

Too-Pretty Trey snorted, and the father shot him a look of reproof.

“What?” Trey laughed bitterly. “The word fiancée just sounds awfully funny coming from this man’s mouth. Don’t you think?”

Too-Pretty Trey was, well, way too pretty. He had healthy, long blond hair which was parted in the center and flowed down the sides of his face, going far beyond shoulders. His skin and complexion were unbelievably unblemished, not even a freckle. But he needed more flesh on his bones. He wasn’t hot or fierce or anything like that, just ridiculously pretty for a man.

Jahleel ignored his brother’s remark.

To move on from the one-sided bicker, I stuck my hand out to the father. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kingston.”

Mr. Kingston looked at my hand, his gold gaze traveling up the length of my arm, taking in the myriads of tattoos there. He was an older version of Jahleel. Exact eyes, hair, and bone structure. Jahleel stole his looks right from his dad.

When he just stared at my ink, my neck burned with embarrassment. He didn’t like me. Nor my tattoos. He probably thought I was a rebel or a spoiled super star who did drugs and made orgy sex tapes.

As I lowered my rejected hand, he stood up, towering over me with his impressive height, and suddenly hauled me in for a bear hug.

“Child, we don’t shake hands in this family. We hug. Tight.” Then he kissed me on both cheeks. “Nice to finally meet you, Saskia. The one who was strong enough to take my stubborn boy down. This is one prayer answered, praises be to God. My next prayer is to get him to be a part of our ministry.”

A smile was all I gave him, as I had no idea what to say to that.

The mum, a modest beauty with brown shoulder length-hair and brown eyes, the perfect complement to her husband, stood up too and enveloped me into a tight hug, whispering softly in my ear, “Thank you. So much.”

Breaking the embrace, she pulled me off to side, Jahleel watching us with a curious frown.

“That boy,” Mrs. Kingston said, indicating her son, “I love him. And all I’ve ever wanted was for him to be happy. But every time I looked into his eyes, all I ever saw was worry, confusion, lost, rebellion, and stubbornness. And I’ve prayed and prayed and prayed so fervently for him.

“Since you, all those things been eradicated from his eyes. He’s no longer worried or confused or lost. He no longer has a reason to rebel and be stubborn. Because it seems he’s found his answer to all his questions. You. And now he’s glowing. And that…that gives me and his father so much joy, more than he’ll ever know. So, thank you. And please, keep him in this place that he is. Keep him. Don’t let him go. He’s a good son. And I’m sure he’ll be a good husband.”

By the time she was done talking, her eyes were watering, and I was at a loss for words.

“I love your son. Very much,” I told her, swallowing.

Sniffling, she nodded appreciatively, then mumbled an “excuse me” and tottered off.

“Everything okay with her?” Jahleel asked me when I got back to where he and his father were talking in mumbles.

“I guess so.”

“Happy tears, I’m sure,” the father filled in, giving me an older, friendlier version of Jahleel’s crooked smile.

At the feel of my dress being tugged, I glanced down and found Claire reaching her arms up to me, bouncing. I stooped down and lifted her up, shifting her to my side, and she rest her head down on my shoulder, twirling one of my curls around her finger. Just like her father would.

Jahleel studied us with a frown.

Father Kingston grinned.

Too-Pretty Trey rolled his eyes.

Then Krissy materialized next to Jahleel, tugging on the visor of her ball-cap and grinning up at Jahleel.

Shaking his head, Jahleel leaned down and kissed her nose, then snagged the cap off her head, turned and put it on Claire’s head.

“You’re my babe,” he told Claire with a conspiratorial wink.

If I said that didn’t sting a little, I’d be lying. Plus the look Krissy gave me didn’t help. She seemed to be avoiding me at all cost, noticeably giving me a wide berth.

“Hey, dude!” she protested. “I paid eight-five bucks for that hat. So either you gimme my hat back, or pay for it. And for you, it’s ninety-five.”

“Eighty-five bucks?” Jahleel exclaimed. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

Krissy shrugged. “Yeah. And they’re selling like crazy. Every chick wants to be ‘JK’s Babe’ it seems.”

Jahleel tipped his chin to Too-Pretty Trey, asking, “You the one selling these? Word’s that some supposed brother of mine is selling them on Ebay.”

Too-Pretty Trey blinked at Jahleel, and for a moment it looked as if he’d stopped breathing. His lips parted, but nothing came out.

Krissy and Mr. Kingston stared at Jahleel with their mouths hanging open.

I had absolutely no clue what was happening. Why everyone seemed so shocked. I felt Mrs. Kingston sidle up next to me.

Too-Pretty Trey closed his mouth, then opened it again, then cleared his throat, finally answering, “Of course not. I’m a man of God; I have no time for such frivolousness.”

Jahleel reached over to the fruit basket on the table and plucked up a handful of grapes, popping one into his mouth. “Well, you might as well have been the one behind it. That schmuck’s making a killin’ at eighty-five bucks a cap.”

Schmuck? Since when did this bloke use words like schmuck? Ah, his parents were here. The mouth filter was on.

Sitting up straighter in his seat, looking eager to converse with his brother, Too-Pretty Trey put in, “You can find and sue whoever it is, you know. This is illegal.”

Popping another grape in his mouth, Jahleel shrugged. “If I cared, yeah, I probably would. But for all I know, the person behind this has a family member suffering from some terminable illness and they need the cash. And if my name can help them make a few quick bucks, I don’t really care.”

He turned and tried to take the cap off Claire’s head, but she squealed in protest and clung to it. “No, Daddy! I’m you’re babe, remember?”

We all laughed at this while Jahleel left the cap on and told her, “Sure, bad girl.”

Retrieving his wallet from his back pocket, he withdrew a hundred dollar bill and passed it to Krissy. “Fifty bucks. No way am I payin’ ninety-five bucks for that.”

Krissy snatched the bill from him, stretching it between her fingers. “It doesn’t really matter, hot stuff. Because the change is mine, too.”

“You just got married to a billionaire and you’re still tryna rip me off?”

“Every dollar counts,” she sang, waving the bill in his face before stuffing it in her pocket.

“Where’s your mogul anyway?”

His question came easily, with no hint of underlying jealousy, nothing like he was still in lust with her. And that gave me renewed assurance. What he’d felt for Krissy was now a thing of the past. I was his future.

I met his parents, they liked me, and I was fucking delirious with happiness. Everything was going to be alright. Bob Marley said so.

“He’s in Korea,” Krissy replied. “He said he won’t able to make it today…”

No longer threatened, I blocked out their conversation and turned to Mrs. Kingston, who was smiling from ear to ear as she stared at her son.

“What was all that about with Trey?” I pried.

Without taking her glossy eyes off Jahleel, she replied, “Since he was eleven, he has never spoken a single word to Trey. He fully excluded Trey from his life and pretended he didn’t exist. Until now…”

“Oh,” was all I could think to say.

Shifting her gaze to me now, she whispered, “Like I said, thank you.”

This woman thought I saved her son, when in fact, he was the one who saved me. From death.

If she only knew.

A couple of hours later, I was more relaxed than I’ve been in a long while. Everyone was getting along so well that the breakfast cruise turned in to lunch cruise also.

Well, everyone except Krissy, of course. She made the effort to steer clear of me without making their parents any wiser. Not a word to me.

Fine by me. Didn’t faze me at all. As long as we were both clear on who Jahleel belonged to. Besides, I was sure she wouldn’t want her parents to know of the incestuous affair that went down with them.

Jahleel’s parents were indeed the nicest people I’d ever met. One would expect them to be judgmental and uppity, but they weren’t. They just accepted me as I was. And the conversations, surprisingly, never once steered to religion. They were simply ordinary people who talked and laughed about ordinary things. No Jesus-died-on-the-cross or repent-before-it’s-too-late conversations at all.

The cruise had simmered down to a calm ease, and we were all replete and torpid from the copious amount of food we’d eaten. Claire was fast asleep on my lap, and Jahleel was in a deep conversation with his brother whom he reportedly hadn’t spoken to since he was eleven. I jotted down a mental reminder to ask him about that.

“Why don’t you go set her down in one of the rooms?” Mrs. Kingston suggested, pointing to Claire.

“That is actually a great idea,” I said, laughing. “Because my arms killing me. She’s a lot heavier than she looks.”

“Oh, tell me about,” Mr. Kingston pitches in. “And just she loves to nag at people to lift her up.”

Smiling, I peered down at her and gently brushed away a wisp of her brown hair that escaped her loose pigtails, hanging down the side of her face. Her long lashes whispered against her cheek, her little chest rising and falling as she breathed a tad laboriously with a slight wheeze.

I’d learned from her father that she was troubled with asthma, and that her harshest attack was when he’d rushed to the hospital the night we were out in the gazebo.

Her hair was as rich, healthy, and perfect as Jahleel’s, and not a single feature on her face wasn’t from him.

I think I was falling in love with her.

Jahleel once told me he wanted our daughter to look like me. But I sent a little invocation up to God that our daughter, like Claire here, would be the spitting image of him. Our sons, too.

In the looks department, he won by a mighty long shot.

My fiancé was a fucking fireman. Not a fireman who outs fire. But a flaming fireman who was on fire.

Realizing I’d gotten carried away with my thoughts mid-conversation with the Kingstons while staring down at Claire, I glanced up and found Mr. and Mrs. Kingston watching me watch Claire.

Mumbling an “excuse me,” I stood up awkwardly with Claire and went down to the lower deck to find a room.

Navigating into the first bedroom in sight, I relieved myself of the weighty little girl, setting her down on the narrow bed inside.

Claire mumbled something about wanting to swing the jungle gym with Brian—whoever that was—as she rolled over and curled up in fetus form, her thumb going straight into her mouth.

I smiled big at that, because her thumb sucking reminded me of my sister, Timberly, when she was younger.

Yep, I was definitely falling in love with her. But her mother despised me.

Eh, who cares, right?

As I toed off my sandals and made to lay down beside Claire to steal a catnap before going back outside, Krissy came into the room, making an effort to close the door without a sound.

What now?

This girl has caused me much misery, and if she came in here to push me further, it was going to get ugly, I swear to God, because I wasn’t running this time.

As Bitchy Sassy opened her mouth, Krissy’s hands shot up as she said, “I just wanna talk to you, okay?”

Her voice was hushed. Either she didn’t want to wake Claire or she didn’t want the others to hear us.

Arms folding across my chest, I waited. Attitude in effect. Ready to put up a fight. Her and her best friend has caused enough damage already.

“The reason why I haven’t said anything to you since you came is because JK warned me to steer clear of you. He was serious. And he’s rarely that threatening with me. So I avoided you.”

“Have you?” I asked sardonically. “You’re here in front me, aren’t you?”

“That’s because I think this is stupid and juvenile!” she hissed. “You’re getting married to my brother—which, by the way, means you’re gonna be my sister—and I’m not supposed to talk to you? You’re grown. I’m grown. I’m not gonna dance around you all the time like we’re flipping sophomores.”

“I’m getting married to your ink brother,” I reminded her. “We’ll never be bloody sisters. You’re a manipulative and selfish bitch. Just like you knew exactly what you were doing when you wore that ball cap.”

She snorted. “I wore that hat to screw with JK. I don’t know if you’ve realized it—maybe because you’re already infamous—but JK’s one of the most famous faces right now, and I’m fucking proud of him. I’ve always been. That ball cap had absolutely nothing to do with you. Nothing.”

Denying me the chance to retort, she went on, “I know what I did that night was wrong and selfish of me. I didn’t consider the ripple effects it would’ve caused. And in the end, I hurt him, you, the man I love more than anything, and myself. I’m sorry for all of it, and if you can’t forgive me and forget it, that’s your bad shit. In case you didn’t know, I loved him first. He didn’t love me back.

“He treated me like his naive kid sister. And by the time he started loving me, it was too late. I was loving someone else, my husband. And I still love JK, with every part of me. But I love my husband more. So I chose my husband.

“It’s over and done with, the past is the past and it can never be undone. You have him now and he’s head over heels in love with you. I know him better than anyone, and trust me, the love he has for you right now far surpasses whatever bullshit love he ever thought he had for me. He never would’ve loved me this much. His love for me was obligatory. You, he loves you because he can’t fucking help it.

“You won, Saskia, you fucking won. So get the fuck over your petty jealousy and channel your energy into loving that man out there with all your fucking heart, you hear me? Because you’re never gonna find another JK. He’s like raw diamond. Search all you want, he’s the best you’re ever gonna find.

“Put his assholism aside, and you’ll see for yourself that once he says it’s you, it’s you. No fucking around. He loves you. So you can stand there and scowl and glare all you want, I don’t really give a shit, because I’m not gonna not talk to you like we’re in pre-school or something.

“You’re getting married to my brother whom I love very much. You’ll be my sister whether you like it or not, unless you’re gonna leave him and I’m sure you’re not gonna leave him because you’re so stupidly in love with him you can’t even see beyond reason. Plus, if you do, I’ll hunt you down and fucking kill you. That’s a threat.”

Wrenching the door open, she spat out her last words “Welcome to the fucking family,” then walked calmly through the door, closing it quietly behind her.

Well, she told me, didn’t she?

No hostages. No beating around the bush. And in the end, I actually liked her ballsiness.

She was right. It made no sense whatsoever holding grudges over what happened in the past when we were both blithe and contented with the men we love.

Letting it all go in one great exhale, I curled up beside Claire on the bed, falling asleep before I knew it.

If it was possible for me to see myself sleeping, I’d bet there was a ginormous smile on my face.

Chapter Seven

3 Months Later….

Missed my flight.
Sorry, babe.
Re-booked to be in by 8am 2moro.
Relay my apologies.
Luv u

I sighed in disappointment at the text.

Once again, Jahleel had missed his flight and I was left to do a job meant for both of us. That’s been happening a lot. Because even though the public was demanding more and more appearances and interviews from both of us together, Jahleel’s top priority was his dance and choreographing business. Everything else went on the back burner.

He cared zero for fans or fame. He cared one hundred percent about dancing. And as a result, we’ve had to turn down a lot of proposals, millions, because he wouldn’t allow anything to interfere with the time and attention he promised his clients, his health, or his equilibrium. In other words, he wasn’t going to bite off more than he could chew for the sake of money and fame.

He was a stickler for living a balanced life and getting his eight hours of sleep. He didn’t do stress. He did whatever made him content and clear-headed.

I respected and understood his stance.

After all, my studio time came first and everything else after. Albums had to be made for me to sustain my career, right? Right. Top priority.

Nonetheless, it annoyed me that this was the fifth time Jahleel had left me to attend a well-paid club appearance by myself because he couldn’t be arsed with catching his goddamn flight to Vegas.

I haven’t seen him in three days because I’d been in Paris for the past two days working on my upcoming fragrance, and a few convenient photo shoots. Then the plan was for us to meet up in Vegas for the club appearance. And where was he? Not on the fucking plane, that’s where.

Stuffing my cellphone back into my fanny pack, I used one end of the hand-towel around my neck to wipe the sweat from my face as I ambled out of the hotel gym and hit the call button on the lift to take me up to my floor.

The doors pinged open and I dragged my weary body inside, hit my floor number, and slumped back as the doors closed and the lift jerked into motion.

Aside from my fiancé being a total arsewit when it came on to us working together, we were good.

Really good.

Our lives were busier than usual now, of course, but we made it work. He made it work as he was determined not to let our work get in between our relationship.

Hence decreeing a three day rule: work or not, we were not allowed to be apart for more than three days. So our assistants had to arrange our schedules accordingly. Three days maximum was the longest we could be separated for.

He loved me. I loved him. Things were working out unexpectedly well with Claire and me. And since we were yet to talk about whether he’d be moving in with me or me with him, I was practically living at his place. We lived a mere five minutes away from each other, so I didn’t think it even mattered.

Things were running smoother than an oiled engine, and we were simply cruising right along with it, not letting up on the gas pedal. No need to make simple things complicated.

We argued a lot about silly stuff, of course, but before the day could end, we’d forget what the hell we were even fighting about and made up. Because he told me never to leave him even if he asked me to, so I didn’t. And I wouldn’t.

I was happier than I’d ever been in my entire life. My dream was happening.

The lift spat me out on my floor and I fished for my key card from my fanny pack. As I was walking past Amanda’s door, I decided to check if she’d like to be my companion at the club tonight since Jahleel wouldn’t be making it. Thomas’ room was directly across the hall from mine, and Amanda’s next to mine.

There was a Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle, but I banged it anyway.

“Bloody hell, can you not read, whoever you are?!” Amanda bellowed from the other side of the door.

Snickering at the annoyance in her voice, I yelled back, “No! I got kicked out of high school for flashing the principal my hairy fanny and tearing my arse out to the rugby team. A rebellious little exhibitionist I was, yeah?”

Silence on the other side, then the door swung open. “Don’t you dare try to ruin my reputation with these frivolous things,” Amanda said, wagging a finger at me, indignant that I pointed out the petty crap she used to do. Her chin tipped up in pride. “I got kicked out because I buttered bread slices with jam and my feces, and told Elizabeth James it was peanut butter and jelly sandwich and made her lickerish arse eat it. Now, what do you want?”

My mouth dropped open, but nothing came out, it was busy gaping at the image beyond a leather-clad Amanda.

The six foot six, all muscles, mighty Zane Zekiel, was blindfolded, gagged, bound at the wrists, and was on his knees in the middle of her suite, wearing nothing but some tight white boxers.

Amanda closed the door to just a crack, blocking out the sight, stealing back my attention. “What do you want, Kia?”

“I-I…” I stuttered. “What-what are you doing to him?”

“Nonya business,” she spat.

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered, “you’re…horrendous.”

“Kia,” she said in a warning tone, “talk fast or I’m shutting this door in your face.”

Leaning my shoulder against the door-jamb, I tried peeking past Amanda’s head to see what the hell was going on in there. “JK missed his flight again and—”

“You want me to come to the club appearance with you,” she filled in. “Sorry. I can’t. Zane’s only here for a day. Text me when you’re ready for hair and make-up, yeah?”

She started to close the door, but I stopped it with my hand, giving her the sad face. “You’re really sending me to party in a booth by myself?”

“Kia, please,” she pleaded. “I haven’t seen him for a whole month because I’m all over the place with you. We need some time together.” She lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “This may come as a shock to you, but I think I’m falling in love with him. If you don’t want me to quit working for you, then allow me to have a life, too.”

Amanda falling in love? Novelty.

Dejectedly, I sighed and started to turn away. “Okay.”

“Wait.” Amanda stopped me. “I know you don’t like them, but Amy and Jamie flew in this afternoon. They claim they’re just here to party, but I know it’s because they miss us. Call them.”

My eyes rolled to the heavens, and I was about to give her a “not a chance,” but I thought about it and sighed in defeat. Because, well, what kind of superstar partied by themself?

Think it’s about time I started building a new street team.

My brother was MIA all the time since he met Sade. Amy and Jamie had been transferred to my Hate List the second they shagged Jahleel. Lion couldn’t be with me all the time, and my best friend was starting to back on out me a lot because she was falling for her hot and famous basketball player, Zane. That I’d set her up with, shooting myself right in the foot.

“You call them,” I told her, walking off before she could object.

For the first in a very long time, I felt completely alone.

People had no idea. Even with all the screaming fans and perpetual outside excitement, celebrities got lonely, too.

Torture.

This was fucking torture.

Partying with two wenches who knew the size of my man’s cock, how it felt inside them, and how good he could fuck, was not in the least bit fun. For the most part, I wanted to grab them both by the neck, slam their heads together and knock them the fuck out.

They, on the other hand, were over the moon. It’d been a while since they got invited to events with me. So they were too stoked about it to realize the only reason they were here was because I was out of options.

In my special booth, with Jamie and Amy on either side of me, I made an effort to appear like I was having a grand time. This was a paid appearance, after all. And fans were outright staring, some struggling to get near.

Thomas was inside the booth with me, while club security stood guard outside, ensuring no one snuck in to gush all over me, begging for autograph.

Amy and Jamie kept blabbering beside me like the usual excitable twats they were while I made surreptitious glances at my watch, wishing time would tick a little faster. Because underneath my faked appearance, I was bored, and the Coffee Patron was doing nothing to better my mood.

The club, nonetheless, was pumping, bursting with people who came out just because “JK and Saskia would be partying in the #1 hotspot, Club ZIP, on Friday August 3rd!!”

The DJ was mixing up a storm, giving me a “shout out” at ten minute intervals, and the vibe was overall rhapsodic.

My head just wasn’t in it, because the other half of me had missed his flight, and I was missing the hell out of him.

“…and I swear it’s the best feeling on earth! And if you skip the panties whenever you wear jeans, believe me, you’ll be so freakin’ stimulated throughout the day that you’ll want to play with your pussy every five minutes!”

Coming back to the here and now, I glanced at Amy. What was she talking about? Since we came into this club, the most I’ve said to them was “yeah,” “uh huh,” and “ace.” Because I wasn’t really interested in their pointless yammering.

“What?” I asked dully.

“My clit piercing,” she said, slapping my arm and giggling.

What part of “what” warranted a damn giggle?

“We got it done a couple of weeks ago,” Jamie said from the other side of me. “Hurts like a mofo at first, but once it heals, it’s the most awesome thing ever! You and Manda should get yours done, because then we ca….”

Tuning them out again, I inhaled deeply and rubbed my forehead. Now way was I having a conversation about clits and stimulation with these two.

I needed out of here.

In that moment, I noticed the noise level in the club skyrocketed. People were screaming their tonsils out, and it wasn’t for me. There was a division in the crowd as someone famous, along with their groupies, waded through the throngs of people agog with excitement.

From my booth, there was no descent view for me to tell who it was. And I didn’t care to know. I just wanted to leave. One more hour and I’d be conjuring up an excuse to bolt.

The chaos simmered down after a while and the crowd went back to partying as the unknown superstar settled in the second VIP booth on the opposite side of the club.

Scooping up my phone from the table, I tapped out a quick message to him:

Bored here.
Miss u so damn much.
Hurry, please.
I luv u.

The DJ gave another shout out to me just then, but it was promptly followed with, “…And I’d also like to give a special shout out to the one and only rock G-O-D of this century, Tex Laklin!!! Ninety Miles, welcome to Club motherfucking ZIP!!!!”

At that announcement, my head snapped up from my phone screen, spine stiff, while Amy and Jamie screamed their faces off beside me

“O.M.G, Ninety Miles!” screamed Amy. “Ninety Miles are here. In this club. With us!”

Jamie joined in, “This. Is. Freaking. Awesome!!!”

They both hugged me from each side, pressing their cheeks to mine. “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for inviting us, Saskia. You rock!”

But all I could do was sit there, inertia taking me over.

Ninety Miles.

Tex Laklin.

Ninety Miles.

Remember that best-sex-ever rock god ex-boyfriend I once spoke of? The one whose heart I broke because I couldn’t get over my JK crush? The one who became Taylor Swift on me? Yeah, that was Tex.

Tex Laklin.

Lead singer of Ninety Miles rock band.

Uh-huh. That rocker who I haven’t had the bad luck of running into ever since I shagged him on his tour bus then broke up with him promptly afterward, was now, three years later, in the same club as me.

And I was nervous. As shite.

Why? Because Tex was a dick. A huge dick. Especially to people he hated.

And I was quite certain I’d made his hate list. He said so ten different ways in over ten different songs. But he also said he loved and missed me in twice as many songs, so…

Because I had no clue where we stood as ex-lovers, I didn’t know what to expect. If he was over the past, then perhaps we could hang, because I was bored, and Ninety Miles partied hard.

But if he still hated me, then I needed to be out of there ASAP, because he was bound to pull some crap to topple me over as payback.

I mean, why on earth would he show up at Club Zip when he knew I’d be there? With my fiancé—who wasn’t here, of course—but, still.

Ninety Miles was the biggest, hottest rock band reigning right now. So, paired with me, the never-failing, forever-on-top-of-the-music-charts British sensation, in the same club, the intensity was at pressure cooker level. Bet the club owner was wishing he had a bigger club right now. No doubt there was a long line of people outside who couldn’t get in.

Word must’ve gotten out that I was partying alone tonight, because I couldn’t fathom why Tex was there.

I should go. I should really go.

As I was still on that thought, the guards permitted entrance to a pretty waitress. Smiling widely at me, she pronounced, “Courtesy of Tex Laklin,” as she relieved her hands of a tray holding a bottle of Champagne in an ice-bucket, three Champagne flutes, and a white-gold cigarette case with a raven bird engraved on the front.

The engraving alone told me the case belonged to Tex. He used to call me Raven, because he was obsessed with my hair. Of course, he didn’t know it was artificial.

The waitress smiled again and left, and I warily took up the cigarette case and flipped the little latch on the side. The top opened with a smooth swing, and the rich, soothing scent of Davidoff cigarettes hit me. Yeah, I was in love with it. No way on earth he was getting it back.

Tucked neatly between two cigarettes was a note. I pulled it out and unfolded it:

Just because…I still know what you like.
I’m calling a TRUCE.
Come party with us.
If you don’t come, we’re coming over there to crash your booth.

Okay, so he didn’t hate me then. He was calling a truce. Thank Christ for that. Because I was just about to bolt. And then it would make the news that my ex came in and chased me out of the club because I was afraid I still had feelings for him, or some falsity like that. Entertainment news wrote the craziest stuff sometimes.

“Ohmigod, Kia, he wants you back, doesn’t he?” Jamie asked, practically bouncing in her seat.

I shot her a glare. “No. And have you forgotten I’m engaged?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Amy spoke first to save her. “We mean no disrespect to JK. We’re just excited because, well, it’s Tex Laklin. This guy is, like, always touring. An unexpected appearance like this? Not likely in the least.”

“Could you at least get his autograph for us, Kia?” Jamie begged. “I’m not sure when we’re going to get another opportunity like this. He’s like the most elusive rock star ever.”

These two girls have been around me since I first moved to the states, and I never even had a clue they were such huge fans of my ex. And strangely enough, in that moment, I actually wanted to help them out.

Crushing the note in my hand, I snapped the cigarette case close and stood up. “Forget autographs. We’re going to party with the rock stars.”

Jamie and Amy squealed in delight, bolting ahead of me.

Thomas caught my wrist as I was about to leave and stared me down, his expression grave. “Are you positive about going over there, Miss Day?”

“Sure, why not?” I shrugged. “I’m bored as shite anyway…”

Shifting uncomfortably, Thomas kept a hold on my wrist with his big hand, looking worried now. “I know it’s not my place, but I do consider you more than just another job. You care about us, all of us around you, and I feel the compulsion to protect you not just because you pay me to, but because I care for you—”

I shuffled, impatient, wanting him to spit out whatever was in his throat. “What exactly is the problem, Thomas?”

“I do not trust that man,” he said bluntly. “I feel I need to remind you how black and irate he was when you broke it off with him. So speaking frankly, I do not think partying with him is prudent, Miss Day.”

“I do remember how angry he was, Thomas,” I said. “But that was three years ago, and he’s called a truce. Besides”—I freed my wrist from his grasp—”you’ll be there to protect me, won’t you?”

Without waiting for his answer, I walked off, leaving him to follow.

Ninety Miles’ band members got on wild with hoots and cheers as I approached their booth on the opposite side of the club. Jamie and Amy went in ahead of me, and Tex himself stepped out and came forward to meet me, locking me into an extremely tight hug, spinning me, then lifting me into the booth.

“Reunited and it feels soooooo gooooooooddd!!!!!!” the rest of the band members sang out in a very loud jeer.

I punched Tex’s shoulder and he set me back down on my feet, grinning at me.

“Don’t ever do that again, yeah?” I hissed at him.

Holding his hands up, he stepped back a foot. “Okay, Raven. Meant no disrespect. Just that, it’s been so long since I’ve held you…”

I looked up into his ice-blue eyes, lined thickly with black eyeliner. His lips full and kissable as they’ve always been. Eyebrow piercing, septum ring, choker around his neck, a black wife beater, a black tee tossed over his shoulder, black studded belt looped through his close-fitted black leather pants, and black fingerless gloves. With fourteen inches of jet-black hair flowing down the sides of his face, he towered over me at six foot two. Tattoos covering every visible skin from his neck down.

We stood there staring at each other wordlessly, as unbidden memories flooded in, of all the amazing sex we used to have, anywhere, anytime, on any occasion.

There was a time when I was so insanely attracted to him, that he almost knocked all thoughts of Jahleel out of my head. But that was almost. Because I could never fully get Jahleel out of my head, and in the end, Tex was selfishly and unfairly mistreated by me.

It’d been over three years since I’d seen him face to face like this. And he was no different. The same Tex. The same rock god who used to rock my fucking world.

Finally getting my mouth to work, I scolded, “You can’t call me that anymore either, because I’m not your raven.” I wiggled my ring finger at him.

“Oh, right.” He looked away and took a sip of his drink. “So where is he, then? I got the impression both of you were gonna be here tonight?”

His tone seemed causal enough, no detection of hostility or jealousy, so I answered, “Missed his flight.”

He snorted. “That’s why you, my Raven, need a man who can afford his own jet.” He brought his drink to his lips again, but did it so his thumb was conspicuously pointing at himself.

When I just ignored his jab, he made a derisive laugh and went in for the kill. “A dancer? C’mon, Raven, sure you can do better than that.”

“Right.” I nodded once, lips pressed together. “This isn’t a truce. This is a chance for you to talk smack about my fiancé so you can feel better about yourself. Goodbye, Tex.”

When I turned and made to leave, he grabbed me around the waist to stop me, his front pressed up against my back. And he was hard. Typical Tex. He had the sex drive of a lion.

“Saskia, wait. I’m sorry, okay?” he said huskily in my ear. “You know I can’t help being a dick sometimes. The honest truth is, I’m really happy for you.”

“Yeah, right.” I tried to get free from him—and his hardness—but he held me tight to him, and I could see Thomas shaking his head outside the booth.

Amy and Jamie were busy flirting and dancing with the rest of the rowdy, crude-talking band members.

“It’s the truth, Saskia,” he said, spinning me around to face him. “I am happy for you. I know exactly how you feel because…” He looked away for a minute, then back to me. “I’ve met someone.”

“Tex,” I hissed out, “you’re hard.”

His lips pulled up in a lopsided grin as he glanced between us, his brow arching at his arousal. “Because you’re sexy as fuck, Raven. And the amazing smell of your hair is fucking with my senses. You can’t blame my dick for getting hard for you.” He brought his ice-blue gaze back to me now. “But my dick doesn’t control me. Because this girl I met, I think I’m in love with her.”

“In love? Really?” I grinned, relaxing again. “The mighty Tex. Shot down! Ohhhh, you have to tell me all about her.”

With a small shake of his head, Tex stared at me for a long, long while with an intense expression. He studied me for so long that I started to grow uncomfortable.

As if noticing this, he abruptly turned and nabbed a bottle of Nuvo from one of the many ice-buckets on a long, rectangular table behind him. He screwed off the cap and handed it to me. “Straight from the bottle, just the way you like it.”

Taking the bottle from him, I took a long sip, and he watched me for a beat longer before taking my hand and leading me over to the seats on the other end.

“Why don’t we kick back over here?” he said, his voice a slow drag. “And lemme tell you all about her.”

Chapter Eight

JK…

Suffering from impatience, Jahleel rapped his knuckles on the pretty blonde receptionist’s desk. Unless she was fucking inept, he couldn’t understand what was taking her so long to hand over the key card and info for his and Saskia’s room.

He was fresh off a flight he hadn’t wanted to be on in the first place, and he was shit tired. But there was a three-day rule he had to adhere to, and because he missed his flight the night before, it was now four days.

Truth was, he hadn’t really missed the flight; he just didn’t get on it.

A last minute job offer came in to host a dance-off competition thrown by the producer of Dancin’ 2da beat, and he took it, because, to be honest, doing what he did—dancing—excited him a fuck of a lot more than making a lame appearance at some club just so people could stare at him like he was damn effigy or something.

He preferred to be known for his talent, not because he had a certain look or because he was engaged to the most erotically beautiful, fucking irresistible, lift-his-cock-on-the-spot woman in the world. So he took the last minute job—which paid more, incidentally—and left his girl hanging.

Then lied to her about it.

She would find out the truth eventually, though. ‘Cause even though the competition was aired live, the turnout had been huge what with all the big names being there, so it was bound to hit the entertainment news…and she was going to eat his fucking head off for lying to her.

But he’d deal with that when the time came.

Right now, he missed the fuck out of her and just wanted to sneak into their room and wake her up with cock.

Now if this blonde would just hurry the fuck up….

This tactic happened much too often for him to not know her game. She was deliberately being a snail to keep him there so she could “discreetly” eyeball him.

Chicks. They’re so fucking obvious, even when they aren’t.

Adjusting his holdall, Jahleel rapped his knuckles on the counter with a little more force this time. “Anytime this year, blondie?”

Blondie peeked up at him from beneath her mascara lengthened lashes and bit one side of her bottom lip. She was trying to be sexy. Except the lip biting, peek-up-under-the-lash thing didn’t work for every girl. She was pretty alright, but her face was a little chubby, no bone structure, and the lip biting just wasn’t working in her favor. At all.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Kingston,” she said in a voice less professional and more flirtatious. “I had a bit of technical difficulties here.”

Jahleel couldn’t help the choked laugh that came out. “Technical difficulties to pass me a fuckin’ key card? What’re you, an automaton?”

Blondie’s cheeks reddened. Passing him the key card, she confessed, “Okay, you got me. I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re so intense in person and…hot and I got a bit flustered when you came through the door and now I’m being unprofessional, but please don’t report me or anything and—ohmigod I’m babbling, I’m so sorry. I’m not even single or anything, I have a boyfriend. But yo—”

“S’okay, Jessica,” he assured her, giving her a wink and a smile to ease her flustering state.

Her eyes widened a fraction, then fluttered a million miles a minute. “How do you know my name?” she breathed out.

Leaning over the counter, Jahleel flicked a finger at her name-tag, then walked off.

As he got over to elevator, the doors pinged open, revealing three Vegas vultures inside. All short, tight dresses, overnight hair and make-up and tired faces, like they’d just woken up from a night of hard partying.

And instead of getting off, they just stood there, gawking at him.

“Getting off?” he asked.

No one moved.

“Ohhhh my gawwwd, I think I just came,” said one of the girls in a sweet southern drawl.

Clearly, as long he was standing there, they weren’t going to move, and he really didn’t have time for this shit.

Against his better judgment, he got into the elevator and hit the number for his floor. His bodyguard was having breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Jahleel had told him he didn’t need him to follow him up to his room. The mere fact he even needed a bodyguard annoyed him.

But in occasions such as this one, he knew it was sage. ‘Cause fans could be complete sickos.

Getting on the elevator with these chicks was probably a bad idea, but he was dog-tired from working and partying the night till dawn broke, then getting on a plane. He needed some sleep, missed his woman, and every damn thing about this morning was irritating him. This whole ‘fans’ thing drove him up the fucking wall.

The ride was quiet enough, and Jahleel thought he would get away without an incident until one broke the awkward silence.

“I’m a huge JK Babe, you know,” she whispered in his ear.

“Nice,” he said, spiritless. “Engaged.”

Silence.

The other two whispered something to each other, and then they all cackled. As if him being engaged was so fucking hilarious, they couldn’t help it.

The world seemed to have this off prediction that his and Saskia’s relationship wouldn’t last because he would fuck it up. But he wouldn’t. He loved her, and there wasn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for her.

Saskia Day was his life. His new life. His forever life.

And not another chance in hell was he going to do anything to hurt her again. So let the world doubt him. He didn’t really care.

The girl who proclaimed to be a “JK’s Babe” took out a pen and a minuscule notepad from her purse and started jotting down her name and number while she spoke, “We went to Club ZIP last night because it was advertised you’d be there. Like I said, we’re JK Babes. You didn’t show up. But someone else did…”

The elevator doors opened on his floor.

Before he could get off, the girl tore the paper from her notepad and stuffed it into his back pocket at the same time she licked her tongue up the side of his neck.

He jerked away and wiped his neck, but that’s what the fuck he got for getting in there with the vultures in the first place. He’d been sexually harassed quite a lot since he judged on that dance show. And it had only gotten worse. Hence his bodyguard.

Gripping the straps of his holdall to fight himself from wounding one of these women, he stepped off the elevator.

As the doors began to close, the girl called out, “Trust me, baby, you won’t be engaged for much longer. Be sure to call me. I’ll be more than happy to lend you these to cry on.”—She cupped her tits and squeezed them together—”They’re not fake. I promise!”

The doors closed, locking the crazies in, and Jahleel shook his head before progressing to his room.

As he neared room 409, a smile tugging at his lips at the short prospect of seeing Saskia after four long, agonizing days, the room door across from Saskia’s opened and Thomas strolled out in gym wear, towel tossed around his neck.

When he saw Jahleel, he stopped dead, looking as if he’d seen an apparition.

Halting in front of Saskia’s room door, Jahleel gave him a chin lift. “Hey, man.”

Thomas just stared at him like a deer in the headlights, which Jahleel found strange, since Thomas wasn’t a man who showed emotions. Let alone nervousness as his gaze shifted between Jahleel and Saskia’s room door.

Finally finding his tongue, Thomas said, “Hey. I was just about to grab some coffee, and I’m sure Miss Day’s still snoozing. Why don’t you come with?”

Jahleel arched a quizzical brow.

Firstly, Thomas looked more like he was going to the hotel gym, not for coffee. Second, Jahleel didn’t drink coffee, and they all knew that by now. Third, when the fuck did he ever hang out with Thomas for him to even suggest grabbing coffee together?

“Nah,” Jahleel declined politely, though suspicious. “I’m crashed. What I need is some sleep, and Sassy.”

Thomas still didn’t move a muscle, and from the corner of his eye, Jahleel noticed the big guy was watching his every movement as he swiped the key card in the door. And when the light on the door beeped green, the man literally winced.

The fuck was this man’s problem?

Without sparing Thomas’ uncharacteristic behavior a second thought, Jahleel pushed the door open and went in, where he was greeted with the obnoxious blaring of Jack White’s Sixteen Saltines.

Jesus fuck. The hell was she doing up listening to rock music so loudly at 8:30 in the goddamn morning?

Dropping his holdall on the floor at the door, Jahleel took a few cautious steps into the suite, wondering if Saskia had something planned. She knew well and good that he hated surprises. All he needed was to make love to her, come inside her, then fall asleep on top of her with his cock still inside her. Not surprises.

“In no mood for games, Sassy,” he called out, moving farther into the suite, waiting to see her jump out from behind somewhere. She was good for it.

The aroma of buttery popcorn traveled on the air. His foot hit something hard, and he stopped walking to look down. A black biker boot with buckles and chains. Saskia loved wearing those kind of boots.

But what sent the alarm off in his head was that the boot was too big to be hers. She was a size seven. That boot was a size ten, at least.

Men’s size ten.

The fuck was going on?

Slowly raising his head, Jahleel swept his gaze around the suite, and it landed on a coffee table that had three big bowls of popcorn, and a bottle of Silver Patrón.

Okay, that wasn’t weird. At all. Sure, people drank Patrón and ate popcorn for breakfast.

Not.

Something was up. Something was definitely up. And not a good something either.

But before Jahleel could move another muscle, the music went off and a familiar famous face popped into his line of sight.

Tex Laklin.

He was shirtless, wearing only a tight, unbelted, black leather pants. But tats clothed his skin from the neck down, a shit ton of long black hair falling down around him like he was fucking Samson or something.

Why the fuck was this cumstain in his fiancée’s hotel room again? Unless he was in the wrong room? Yeah, he had to be in the wrong fucking room because this couldn’t possibly be real…

As Jahleel continued on that thought process, about to walk out and punch that dumb receptionist for giving him the wrong room key, the walking tattoo opened his mouth, saying, “Shit, man. Are you always such a tardy bastard? First you missed an important flight, then you turn up here an hour later than you said you would. Late is dangerous, dude. But not as bad as absence. Crazy fucktastic shit happens when people are late, or don’t show up at all…”

A lot confused about what the hell was transpiring here, Jahleel asked, “Why’re you talkin’ to me again?”

“I’m just maki—”

“And why the fuck are you in my woman’s room?”

The fuckwad gave him a cocky grin, and Jahleel itched to punch it right off his face. “Because the real rock stars always wins.”

“I’m givin’ you one last chance to explain yourself before I rip your fuckin’ tongue out, motherfucker,” Jahleel growled out, prowling forward.

But the coward skipped back a few paces, running from a fight.

“No, not yet,” Tex said, looking half-fearful, half-mocking. “Asskicking comes last. We got breakfast and a movie to get through first. Do, take a seat, a bowl of popcorn. The Patrón’s for you, dancer boy. You gonna need it.”

Tex withdrew a remote from his back pocket and powered on the TV at the same time Jahleel heard her voice.

“JK?”

Turning to the right, from where her voice traveled, he stopped breathing when he saw the woman he loved. The woman whom he’d asked to marry him and give him a new life. The woman who, before now, before this very moment, he’d considered as his future.

There she was, standing in the bedroom doorway. Naked. Completely naked.

Her eyes were still droopy with sleep, her hair a wild overnight mess of raven curls and purple ends.

She looked hungover and half-asleep. And though he was in the most confused state he’d ever been in, in his entire fucking life, he had to take one selfish second to appreciate her in all her natural beauty. She was totally fuckable and arousing just like that. And if circumstances were different, he’d be fucking her right there on that door post.

But all Jahleel could do was stand there and stare at her.

Why was this fucker, her ex to be exact, in her hotel room? Why was he half-naked and her nude? The answer was easy. He wasn’t an idiot. But he was fighting not to acknowledge it. He was waiting to see Ashton Kutcher jump out from behind a sofa and shout, “you’ve been punk’d!!” because this couldn’t, couldn’t possibly be real.

“Finally, Raven. You’re up,” Tex said, setting up a camcorder to the smart TV. “Go cover my goods and come grab a bowl. Breakfast and a movie.”

His goods? His fucking goods?

Still, as pissed as he was on the inside, Jahleel stood completely immobile on the outside. Couldn’t even blink. Shocked to the fucking core. He was in fucking shock.

As if realizing for the first time that she was naked, and that Tex was in the room, Saskia glanced down at herself and let out a little scream, covering her body as best as she could with her hands as she scurried back into the bedroom.

A minute later she reemerged, tying her robe with a wide-eyed, confused expression. Looking as lost as he felt.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing in here?” she asked the assfuck, who by now had finished setting up God knows what and was grinning his dickface off.

When Tex didn’t answer, she turned to Jahleel. “What’s he doing in my suite, JK?”

She was asking him.

He came into their suite and found her naked, with her ex, and she was fucking asking him.

If Jahleel could’ve gotten his body to function, to shake out of that jarring juncture, he’d be chuckling hard at that question.

“Come, come,” Assface Tex said, moving forward to take Saskia’s hand and lead her to the sofa.

She looked up at him, baffled, as Tex pushed her down to sit and put a bowl of popcorn in her lap.

Saskia turned her head to look at him, her eyebrows drawn together. “What’s happening?”

Jahleel just watched her.

He couldn’t even formulate words, let alone answer an unanswerable question.

Tex took up the bottle of Patrón and started toward him, but whatever he saw on Jahleel’s face or body posture, made him stop and retreated, putting the Patron back on the coffee table.

Tex was afraid of him.

And the fucker had a right to be. Because if there was one thing Jahleel could do better than dancing, it was fight. And he meant fight to kill. The only person who had ever defeated him was Chad, his best friend. And that’s because Chad’s the one who trained him. Chad was a trained-from-childhood expert. At fighting, and at killing. And when they first became friends, Chad had trained him to fight, teaching him all the innocent, inconspicuous little tricks to kill easily in a fist to fist fight.

So if this son-of-bitch wanted it, he’d have it.

Just fucking try me, motherfucker, Jahleel told him with his eyes, since he was incapable of speech at the moment.

Eying Jahleel warily, Tex defiantly sat down beside Saskia and swung one tatted arm around her shoulders.

Saskia shrugged him off disdainfully, hissing out a “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

But that only served to make Tex lean in and kiss her.

The popcorn bowl flew from her lap as she fought out of the kiss and launched a punch straight to his jaw.

“Jesus Christ,” Tex roared, rubbing his jaw. “I said asskicking comes last!”

“Try anything like that again and I’ll cut your bloody bellend off, you stinking scoundrel!” Saskia screamed at him.

Tex flashed her a smile, but Jahleel saw right through it. The tough rock star was hurt by her reaction, but aimed to hide his hurt with arrogance. Whatever he and Saskia agreed on the night before, Tex was getting a rude awakening now from her scornfulness toward him.

“I just love it when you go all crazy British on me,” Tex said. “And, Raven?”

“What?” Saskia growled.

“We did a fuck of a lot more than kissing last night.”

Throughout all this, Jahleel was still standing there in the room like a spare part or piece of furniture. Any other man would’ve been bashing that asshole’s face in harder than Muhammad Ali, fighting for his woman. But Jahleel’s body wouldn’t let him. And to be honest, he was in agreement with his body’s stubbornness at the moment, because he had no idea what Tex wanted him to see on that TV, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t overcurious.

All he knew was that he’d hopped on a plane to come see his soon-to-be-wife, and next the thing he knew, he was in a hotel suite with her, her ex, and implications that she cheated on him with the tattooed shitface.

And there he was, standing off like a fucking wallflower, watching it all unfurl before his very eyes. Speechless. Mindless. Inert. Confuckingfused.

“Wha-what the hell are you talking about?” Saskia asked Tex, then turned her head to shoot Jahleel a questioning glare as though hoping he could provide the answers for her.

Probably also wondering why the fuck he was just standing there, immobile, like a cardboard cutout of himself.

“Why don’t I just show you?” Tex grinned, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, then hitting a button on the remote. “Act one of ‘Rockstars Always Wins.’”

Jahleel’s curious, narrowed gaze drifted to the television screen. It was dark, with hardly any visuals, but there was audio. Moans. Mostly of a man’s. Tex’s. Moaning a lot of “ohhh” and “God, yes.”

Was this dark, obscure shit supposed to trick Jahleel into thinking it was a sex tape of Tex and Saskia? What a fucking clown.

Just as Jahleel’s shoulders relaxed in relief, and he was about to call out Tex’s bullshit, clear visual came on the television screen. And there was Saskia, on her knees, in what looked to be the back of a limo, sucking off someone’s cock.

Tex’s cock.

Her bright gray eyes stared up into the camera. She knew she was being recorded. And she was doing her best for the fucking camera.

“Oh my God!!” Saskia shrieked, jolting up from the couch, glancing over to Jahleel with a panicked expression.

Jahleel’s limbs went numb.

This could not be happening. This could not be happening. This could not be fucking happening. To him. Of all persons, to him.

“Oh, sit down, Raven,” Tex dragged, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “This is just Act One. Let’s fast forward to Act Two, shall we?”

Tex fast forwarded from Saskia sucking him off in the back of a car to something much worse. Something that lacerated Jahleel’s insides. Tex fucking Saskia on the same coffee table his feet were tossed up on.

Saskia held the camera this time around, turning it on Tex and then herself. Moaning words Jahleel didn’t want to hear. How good she felt, how good Tex felt inside her, how much she missed him… Obviously they’d agreed on making a sex tape.

A fucking sex tape.

What did he ever do to her that was so bad she felt the need to do all this to get back at him? Why did he continue to let himself get used by the people he loved? Why did he love?

Loving was his fucking downfall.

Tex skipped to Act three: fucking in the kitchen with chocolate slathered all over them. Then Act Four: fucking in the bathroom, on the vanity, under the shower.

Tex skipped to the next. “And we conclude with Act Five. My favorite.”

They were in bed now, under the sheets. Not fucking this time. No. They were making love. Slow and loving.

“Tex?” TV Saskia whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had in my entire life. When you’re inside me, I forget everything.”

TV Tex smiled lovingly down at her. “I still love you, Raven. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Will you keep your promise? Will you keep your promise and leave him for me, Raven?”

“I promised you I would, Tex,” she replied, caressing the side of his face. “Now, make love to me. Make me forget.”

A thin tear escaped at the very corner of Jahleel’s right eye, but he swiftly swept it away before either of them could see. Real men didn’t fucking cry, no matter how badly shit hurts. They tough it out. Embrace the pain. Knock fists and gave high fives to their bad fate. Because it was a war, and in a war, there can be only one winner.

In this war, he lost, bad fate won.

Standing taller, he suddenly found the strength to put on his I-don’t-give-a-fuck face.

The pain he was feeling inside, indescribable. He felt hollow and empty and useless and idiotic. He felt like a fucking loser, a punk, baited, used, chewed up, and spat out. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong in love. He didn’t belong with her.

He was supposed to be who he was meant to be. Jahleel Kingston. The asshole who didn’t give a flying fuck.

But no, he’d let his obsession with this woman bring him to this place. So obsessed and in love with her that he hadn’t seen through her fakeness, her lies.

He should have taken the hint when she went straight to sleeping with his best friend instead of standing up and fighting for him. He should have backed the fuck out of this engagement when he found her in the club all cuddly with Chad again.

Granted, Chad had told him nothing happened. Swore on his dead granddad which was something he only did when he was giving his honest word.

But what if this one time, Chad did lie? What if they did fuck?

His lips curled in disgust as he looked down at Saskia who was a crumpled heap on the floor, her body rocking as she sobbed, her hair hiding her face.

Tex switched off the video. “So, dancer boy, how do you feel about me being the better fuck?”

Jahleel chuckled to himself and took a step forward. Tex took a step back, holding a hand up.

What a pussy. He could mouth-off, but couldn’t stand up to a fight?

“Let’s just skip the asskicking part and get to the point of all this.” Tex watched his reaction for a second, then boldly continued, “I want Saskia back. Call off the engagement. If you do that, the world never sees this video. If you don’t, I’ll expose it. And you’d be too humiliated to marry her, so you’ll end up breaking it off anyway, and I’ll still get her in the end, because, well, you heard her, I make her forget everything. So if you care about her, save her the embarrassment and leave her.”

Was this asswipe seriously trying to blackmail him?

“Or,” Jahleel asserted, taking another step forward, “If I gave a fuck, I could kick your face in until you’re unrecognizable, then destroy that video.”

Tex refused to step back this time, standing tall.

Would you look at that, the sonuvabitch grew a pair. This made Jahleel giddy, vigorous, eager to beat the fucker into the ground. He cracked his knuckles one at a time.

“You could do that. In fact, you can go with the video,” Tex said, swallowing hard, watching Jahleel’s knuckles. “But I already have it uploaded online. All I gotta do is hit publish.”

Slowly, Jahleel moved forward, and with obvious bravado Tex didn’t move. Jahleel was counting on that.

Clenching his fists open and closed, he made sure that’s where Tex’s attention stayed, on his fists, waiting for the first punch so he could duck.

When he balled his fist and faked as if he was going punch him, Tex, predictably, ducked; Jahleel kicked his foot out from right to left, sweeping Tex clean off his feet.

Tex fell on his back with a thud, hitting his head on the edge of the coffee table on his way down.

As he groaned in pain, Jahleel crouched down over him and wrapped his fingers around his throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, watching Tex’s entire face redden, choking sounds leaving him as he tried in vain to pry Jahleel’s fingers from around his throat. “You don’t understand, rock star. You wouldn’t live to hit publish.”

Saskia rushed over, struggling to pull him off her “best fuck of her life.” “JK, stop! My God, you’re going to kill him!! Stop! Please. He’ll die!”

Without even looking in her direction, Jahleel used his free hand to shove her off him. He heard a crash, but he still didn’t look. He didn’t know what happened to her, and right now, in his rage, he didn’t care.

Reasoning with himself that she wasn’t even worth it, he let go of Tex. The mouthy punk immediately began gasping, inhaling large gulps of air, his face red as blood, fearful eyes wide.

“You missed the first part of my sentence,” Jahleel growled. “I said if I gave a fuck. You’re breathing now, aren’t you? So obviously, I don’t. You can have her. She’s just another one.”

As Jahleel stood up, Tex croaked out, “You…fucking asshole…I…I should sue you.”

Jahleel let out a strangled laugh, striding off without a glance backward. “Try, motherfucker. Just fuckin’ try.”

Halfway to the door, Saskia ran up behind him, grabbing onto his arm. “JK, please, I don’t know what happened last night. Maybe I was drugged. I have no memory of it. You have to believe me.”

Jahleel turned to face her.

Her face was soaked in tears, her eyes swollen and pleading, contrite. Even now, she was so fucking unbelievably beautiful, it just got a little bit harder for him to leave her.

But he had to, or she’d be his ruination. He’d either kill to save her, or stay and be hurt for a lifetime. And he chose neither. He chose life, and freedom.

And right now, Saskia Day was neither of those to him. She was a lying, cheating, untrustworthy, deceptive bitch.

“Why do you need memory,” he asked in a voice so misleadingly soft, “when you got a video to remind you of how fuckin’ filthy you are?”

It pained him to shit on her like that, but he just wanted her to feel what he felt inside. He wanted her to fucking hurt. Badly.

Why the fuck would she do this to him? Since his last fuck-up with her, he did everything he could to make it up to her. To prove to her that he loved her and only her and would never in a million years even think about hurting her again. Then she turned and pulled this shit?

Fuck no.

There was no going back from here. This was too much. Even for him.

This was their end.

“You can’t leave, JK,” she cried, still clutching onto him when he tried to walk off. “You can’t. You just can’t. I love you. Stay. We can work this out. You said you’d stay no matter what. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how any of this happened. That’s the truth. That’s the real truth, JK. He did something to me. To put a rift in what we have. You have to believe me. I love you. You can’t leave me. You can’t walk away from me.”

“No?” Jahleel asked with a bitter chuckle, cocking his head to the side.

Forcefully, he jerked his hand away from her and she tumbled back, falling on her ass. The part of him that loved her itched to go pick her up and apologize. But that love was so rapidly being expunged by a nebulous darkness called hate.

So instead, he acerbically bit out, “Watch me walk away from you, Sassy… And don’t even think about pullin’ that stunt again. ‘Cause this time I won’t come runnin’, ‘cause I don’t give a shit. Believe that. A matter of fact, you’re already dead to me. Dead.”

Turning, he picked up his holdall from the ground, and got the fuck out of there.

Chapter Nine

Saskia…

I fucked up.

I fucked up.

I fucked up.

Holy bloody hell, I fucked up.

Through a vision blurred with tears, I watched Jahleel Kingston walk out of my life without a backward glance.

I fucked up.

Worse, I had no memory, none at all, of how I got to fucking up. Last thing I remembered was Tex handing me a bottle of Nuvo and telling me about some mystery girl. Everything after that was…blank.

Nothing.

I could remember nothing at all.

Then to see myself on that video…Oh, God, I couldn’t even think about it without feeling nauseated. I’d stopped watching at “Act Two.” It was too much. To watch the man I love watch me shag someone else. The pain and disbelief in his eyes had been enough to break my heart into a thousand tiny pieces.

The sound of Jahleel’s voice had woken me, my head pounding with the worst frigging curse of a headache. Half-awake, I’d dragged myself out of the bedroom, only to find I was in a bloody nightmare.

I fucked up.

“Christ, where the fuck did you find that lunatic?” Tex groaned from somewhere in the suite, dragging me out of my pitiful reveries.

Eyes opening, I glanced around the room to see him pulling himself up from off the floor, one hand rubbing his tatted and freshly aggravated throat.

Yep, this was all real. Not a dream.

Tex was really in my hotel suite. He really showed my fiancé a less-than-24hrs-fresh sex tape of us. And Jahleel Kingston really left me.

My life was over. I had no reason. No purpose.

Slowly hauling up off the floor, I stared at Tex, who didn’t seem to have an ounce of compunction.

And I thought, now that my life meant nothing, neither to me or to the one person who mattered to me, shouldn’t it be fucking facile to grab a knife and slice this sonuvabitch to minces?

What did I have to lose, right? He screwed up my whole life, so it was just as fair I returned the favor, right?

What a celebrity tragedy that would be.

Shaking the thought, convincing myself that none of it would solve a damn thing, except to be a tragic disaster this innocent world didn’t need, I dried my tears, and went to ease down on the sofa. Calmly.

I had two options:

Feel piss-sorry for myself and cry from now till death over my great loss, dwelling in a perpetual pity party, becoming weak all over again—which would inevitably lead to the same tragic results as the last time.

Or, be strong throughout this. Accept that I messed up. Accept the current circumstances. Face the consequences for my thoughtless actions. And accept that I might have to live without the only man I’d ever loved.

It wasn’t as if I would be the first person to ever have to live without their true love. Many people, men and women alike, died loving a soul they never got even a silver sliver of chance to be with. Many people, great and small, died choking on a lustful meal of fantasies and dreams. Decayed and buried in dusty gray ashes of “what could have been.”

At least I experienced a taste of being Jahleel’s. A taste I would savor for a lifetime.

If I chose to remain strong, I could brave through this.

So, option two it was.

Why? Because I knew Jahleel. And to him, this wasn’t a minor fuck-up. This was a monumental fuck-up. One that, if the roles were reversed and it were me, I’d never be able to forgive or get over that.

I didn’t consciously cheat, no. I was drugged. But that was beside the point. And Jahleel had all the right to hate me and want nothing more to do with me. I couldn’t beg him to see reason. Because there was no reason in this.

I couldn’t ask him to deal with this sordid, unsavory ignominy.

Settling on option two, I leaned back in the sofa, crossed my legs, and dragged my gaze to my ex.

“Why did you do it, Tex? Why did you drug me even after calling a truce?”

Tex’s eyes on me were wary as he lowered himself to sit on the coffee table in front me. No doubt taken aback by my sudden calmness.

Maybe he’d expected me to be enraged, going bat-out-of-hell crazy on him—which I should be doing, of course, but I was jaunting a different route. Because me being irate, weak, tearful, and pitiful was mostly what he’d been aiming for when he did this.

And not just him, but everyone, as soon as they got wind of this, would be expecting me to spiral into an abyss.

But why bother? All of this was my fault. I’d known Tex couldn’t be trusted. Thomas tried to warn me and I’d disregarded his caution. All this was on me, so I would stick the blame on no one. Not alcohol or drugs. But me. I deserved what I got. Even Ferbie would’ve known better.

“To get you back,” Tex answered, his voice soft, eyes softer. “And that has a double meaning,” he added. “To get you back for breaking me to pieces three years ago when I loved you. And to get you back because I still love you. I never stopped.”

For a long moment, I just stared at him.

Tex and I did share something special once, but for me, it wasn’t love. It was purely on a sexual level. Just like it was with Chad. I’ve only ever loved one man, and that man was Jahleel Kingston. This was no secret.

Even so, I never would’ve expected Tex would go to this length to get me back.

Rock stars are supposed to be rock stars: Fuck hard, break hearts, and move on. Not hold a three year grudge and a hope candle next to love. We weren’t Johnny Cash and fucking June. This bloke was ridiculous.

He was the most famous rock star in the goddamn world right now, was stinking rich, hot as sin in hell, wanted by both male and female alike, and this is what he was doing. Drugging and blackmailing people.

I shook my head. Unbelievable. “And in your twisted opinion, this was the best way of getting me back, yeah? Is all that ink starting to percolate into brain? “

“What else was I supposed to do?!” he shouted, throwing his hands up. “Since you left me, I never had the good luck of running into you again. Not once. Even though we run in the same fucking circles. Not once. And I hoped for this more than anything else. To see you again. To convince you to take me back.”

He raked a hand through and down his long tresses. “We were passing through Vegas for the night, and I heard you’d be making an appearance at Club ZIP with your dancer boy. We decided to crash it. I just wanted to see you face to face again. To touch you. Even if just to insincerely congratulate you on your engagement. And when I found out he wasn’t there, I realized the opportunity and I took it.”

“Drugging me and making a sex tape is what you call an opportunity?”

Tex winced. “I’m sorry, Raven. A fight’s a fight. Sometimes clean, most times dirty. It was all to get him out of the picture. You know I’m never gonna publish that, don’t you? You know I’ll never do anything to hurt you, right, Raven?”

Was he suffering from brain damage or something? “You just did, you insolent fucktwit!’ I screamed at him. “You hurt me by chasing away the man I love!”

“He doesn’t love you, Saskia.” He lowered to a kneel in front of me. “I love you. He both physically and verbally abused you just now. He called you filth and pushed you down on the floor twice. What part of that spells love?”

“He was angry,” I justified. “The guy just watched me get my brains fucked out on camera for crying out loud.”

“Pissed or no, if he loved and cared for you, he would’ve been mindful of you, no matter what.” He placed his open palms on my knees, fingers splayed out. “When you broke up with me that night on the tour bus, I was piss-angry. I couldn’t see reason. I couldn’t see anything but darkness. But even in my rage, I could always see you. Because you were the light in my dark world. Every move you made, I saw you. And even when you were out of sight, I could feel you. That’s how much I loved—love you. Did I take my anger out on you? No. I took it out on the bus tires and everyone around me. But never you.”

What Tex was saying was true. And made sense. But I didn’t want him to make sense. I didn’t want him to try convincing me that Jahleel was an abuser, because he wasn’t.

“Back then, and now, are two different scenarios,” I defended. Why was I even explaining anything to this man who’d just whipped out his dick and pissed on all the hard work I’d put into making Jahleel mine? “I harmlessly broke up with you. I cheated on him, and he had to watch it. Put yourself in his shoes, and tell me what you’d do.”

Tex shook his head without even thinking about it. “Still the same, Raven. I’d never hurt you. That guy is dangerous, more than I think you even know. He tried to kill me, for fuck’s sake!”

True. I’d never seen Jahleel like that before. He was a completely different person, and the black expression he had in his eyes was so frightening, it reminded me a lot of Chad.

No idea he was so tactical in fighting. He basically tricked Tex into kicking him off his feet. Then he tried to strangle the life out of him.

“You were afraid of him,” I stated. “I’ve never seen you back away from anyone before. You’re known for pushing fights. Why’d you dance around him like that?”

Tex let out a bitter chuckle. “I know a trained fighter when I see one, Saskia. Fools rush in, and I’m no fool. Neither am I suicidal. I would never enter a fight that’ll have a predictable end result. I’d either end up with broken bones, or dead. Sam’s a trained fighter, you forgot? I know how to read all the signs and body language by now.”

“Oh.” And here I was, his fiancée, and I knew none of that.

We remained silent, Tex watching me with expectant eyes, until he prodded, “So?”

“So, what?”

“Are we getting back together?”

“Tex”—I laughed without humor—”you can’t possibly be serious.”

“I am. I want you back. Need you back. I’ll do anything for you. Give you anything you want,” he said in earnest, squeezing my knees. “Last night was fucking incredible. I haven’t felt like that since you left me. Never. Last night reminds me of how much fun we used to—”

“Last night I was drugged!” I yelled in his face, knocking his hands off my knees. “I had no idea what the hell I was doing! It wasn’t me.”

His eyes lowered, his head hung. “I was bluffing about the video being uploaded on a website. That right there is the only copy. You can destroy it. I’ll never do anything to hurt you. No one else knows about that video. Like I said, it wasn’t for you. We made it to hurt him.”

Closing my eyes, I massaged my temples to calm the pounding headache. “I can’t…I don’t…what about this girl you were telling me about? Was she fictitious? All a part of your plan to get me to trust you?”

“The girl is you.” He raised his head and his blue eyes burned into mine. “I’ve never loved anyone but you, Raven. And I don’t want to. You’re everything I want. Please, give us another chance.”

The room door beeped open just then, and I held a lungful of hopeful breath, praying it was Jahleel coming back. No one else had a key. It had to be him.

My heart pounded fast and hard. He was coming back. He was coming back for me.

When I heard Amanda’s hard, stern voice call, “Kia?” I released a long rush of air and flopped back limply in the sofa, as if punctured with a needle.

Of course Jahleel wasn’t coming back. Why would he?

Seconds later, Amanda rounded into the living room, letting out a quiet “God blind me” when she spotted Tex kneeling before me.

“Oh no, Kia. What dumb shite did you do now?”

Without giving me a chance to respond, she glowered at Tex, pointing at him, then to the door. “You. Out. Now.”

Tex snorted. “I’m tired of telling you, Manda: I’m not afraid of your big mouth.”

“No?” Amanda shot back. “Well, I got two big burly men out there with really big fists itching to beat the tattoos off your skin, you sorry sod.”

Looking tired and defeated, Tex sighed, then gazed up at me through compunctious blue eyes. “I do love you, Raven. At least think about it, okay? I’ll call you later. Pick up.”

When he leaned up halfway to give me a quick peck on the lips, I didn’t bother fighting him off. Because there was no point. Standing up, he grabbed his tee off the back of the couch, retrieved his boots and tugged them on.

As he moved past Amanda and headed for the door, I turned and peered over the edge of the couch, asking him, “Are your people in this hotel? How are you getting back to…wherever?”

He gave me a small, sad smile. “See? You do care about me.”

“I do.” I smiled, mainly because I felt awful for breaking his heart in the first place, forcing him to become this person. I couldn’t hate him. But I could hate myself. “Don’t worry about my men; they won’t touch you without my permission.”

Shaking his head, Tex laughed at that, then left the room.

When I turned back around, Amanda was staring at me, mouth hanging open. “What the fuck was that? Are you getting back with him? What about JK? What in the bloody hell happened? I don’t understand!”

Getting up from the sofa, I plodded past her to the bedroom, tossed my suitcase on the bed, and began packing up my belongings. Jahleel and I had planned on spending two days here before splitting again, me back to Paris, him home. But all that was shot to shit, and I hated Vegas to begin with, so back to Paris it was for me.

“I shagged Tex last night.”

“What?!”

Expected reaction.

Avoiding her dark eyes at all costs, I busied myself packing the suitcase. “He drugged me. We shagged. A lot. On camera. And JK was forced to watch it.”

Amanda actually laughed a little this time. “Sounds like Hangover Part 4 in the making. And a sex tape? Really? Isn’t that a tad clichéd with you bored, fucked-up celebrities? Someone needs to come up with something more original for celebrity defamation, don’t you think?”

“This is serious, Manda,” I said, turning to look her in the eyes for the first time.

Her joking had cut the edge off a bit, because Amanda beating me down with bruising words, reminding me how much of a dolt I was, wasn’t what I needed at the moment.

“You’re telling me,” she agreed as she sat down on the bed.

“So, how are you so easy on me about this?”

“Because,” she dragged out, “this is the first time I’ve seen you so calm and controlled while everything around you is falling apart. You just lost the man you love. The Kia I know would be curled up in a C right now, bawling her eyes out, refusing to live. But here you are. Not a tear. This relaxes me, because I won’t have to worry about you trying to end your life again.”

Her voice broke as she said the latter, and I winced.

Suicide was definitely out of the question. Getting back with Tex was, too.

“Well, it happened and there’s nothing I can do about it,” I said with a shrug. “What the hell am I going do, right?”

“Right,” Amanda replied, though I detected hesitance in her voice.

Silence for a long while, then, “He’s really hurt, you know, Kia.”

“How would you know?”

“How do you think I got your key?” she asked. “He came banging on my door. Yelling in my face and accusing me of whatever. And I had no idea what he was talking about because he wouldn’t answer when I asked. Maybe he was too ashamed. Then he turned and started blaming Thomas for not protecting you, threatening to fire him. It’s Nick and Zane who calmed him down. Zane was heading out so they just left together.” She sighed, then, “Did you know he co-owns the company you hired your men from?”

“I figured, but wasn’t really sure,” I answered, folding a pair of jeans and stuffing it in. “They seem to have a certain respect for him that doesn’t come from him just being my fiancé. Plus, Chad told me he co-owns it. So it makes sense JK’s who he owns it with. Seems he co-owns a lot more businesses than the chain of strip clubs with Chad.”

“You never asked?”

“No. I figured he’d tell me whenever he was ready.”

Amanda flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and another long stretch of silence progressed.

“What now, Kia?” she soon asked in a quiet voice. “This is going to be a bloody dog mess. I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but JK is loved. His fan base is growing by the minute. And this JK’s Babe thing is getting huge. If people find out the engagement between you two is off because you cheated…” She let out a long, shaky breath. “Prepare for a crap ton of media bashing and hate mail, yeah?”

I knew all of that. Which was the reason I was determined to be strong through this. The video was in my possession, and would be destroyed. If Tex had been veracious in that no one else knew about it, then there was nothing to worry about on that aspect.

However, there was no telling what people saw in the club last night. Was I worried, hell yes I was worried. And afraid.

Not of my career failing. Not of the inevitable media bashing. Not of nothing.

But of someone. Someone who’s name both Amanda and I have been dancing around because we were too afraid to utter it.

Lion T’mar.

Chapter Ten

JK…

Marsha swung the door open a whole minute after Jahleel rang the doorbell.

Her hands promptly went to her curvy hips, her cute little mouth opening to start some unnecessary dramatic shit.

But Jahleel spoke up before she could. “Look, Marsh, not in the mood for your shit, ‘kay? Just here to see my daughter.”

She watched him for a beat, then took a breath and stepped aside for him to get in. “She’s sleeping, though.”

“S’okay,” he mumbled lifelessly. “Just wanna see her…” To make sure she’s real and still here in my life, he omitted.

As he headed up the stairs toward Claire’s room, Marsha asked, “Are you okay, JK?”

“Far from it,” he answered in truth, hauling himself up the steps. He felt as though he’d been climbing them forever, would never get to the top.

A pause, then, “Can I get you something, babe? Tea? I’ve got your fave. Lady Grey.”

“Nah, I’m good, Marsh.”

When he got to the top of the stairs, he turned to look down at her. She stood at the bottom, watching him warily, twisting her fingers together. Clearly, his quiet, downtrodden demeanor was baffling her.

Ever since he’d found out about Claire, he’d been antagonistic and acerbic toward her, blaming her for fucking up how he’d planned on starting his family.

With her.

What Marsha did was wrong in every way, but he couldn’t continue hating her for loving him.

“Come here,” he beckoned in a soft, forgiving voice.

She didn’t hesitate in climbing the stairs two at a time to get to him. Stopping one step below, she stared up at him, completely passive.

Leaning down, Jahleel pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve never taken the time out to thank you.”

“For what?”

“Claire,” he said. “Might not have been the ideal way for getting my first kid, but…I love her. And I’m glad she’s here. Thank you for her. A gift that’ll always be mine.”

Marsha gave off a disappointed sigh and nodded. He wasn’t sure what else she was expecting, but that’s all he had, all he could give.

Turning away, he took the left and continued on to Claire’s room.

Claire was stretched out in her bed crucifixion style. Arms and legs spread wide, mouth hanging open. She was a wild sleeper. Couple of times he crashed with her in bed and woke up with minor bruises from the kicks and punches she threw in her sleep. This trait was from her mother.

Claire might resemble him to a fault, but everything else, personality and behavioral tendencies, was from her mother. Marsha was the same when she slept: wild and warring. God knew what the hell they dreamed of to be throwing punches like that in their sleep.

That made him emit a low chuckle—for the first time since he’d hopped on a plane and got the fuck out of Vegas. To get away from her.

Far, far away.

Funny, earlier this morning when he was boarding the flight to Vegas, he’d felt as if he would die if he didn’t see her soon enough. He’d been needing her to breathe. Next thing he knew, he was running away from her to breathe, because just looking at her was sucking the fucking life out of him. Suffocating.

If anyone had told him that Saskia, of all persons, would do this to him, he would’ve probably cut their fucking tongue out. Saskia? Fuck, no. Not Saskia. She’d never do that.

If there was any fucking up to be done, it would be from him. He was a natural fuck-up. Even when he didn’t know he was fucking up. It was second nature for him.

Well, didn’t he just sustain a hard slap of reality?

Fighting to ignore the punitive pain lacerating his whole fucking heart, he kicked off his boots and climbed into bed with Claire. This little girl slept so soundly, one could pull this house apart and rebuild and she would never wake. She woke only when she wanted to.

Leaving the airport, Jahleel had shot straight to Marsha’s because he’d had a sudden urge to see the only girl he truly owned. The girl who would always love him because he was hers. The girl who’d never hurt him because he was hers. The girl who’d always defend him because he was hers. The girl who would always, always, through nature, through blood, through God, be his.

Claire Kingston.

Fuck every other lying, pretending creature called woman. Fuck love. Fuck marriage. Fuck all the lies life tells.

He was done with relationships. Wouldn’t even make sense, anyway, because he didn’t think he was ever going to stop loving Saskia. She owned him, but he didn’t own her. He was forever hers, but she never belonged to him. She belonged to the world. She lived in a house of lies. A house and a life he didn’t care to be in. She’d played him for a fool. Embarrassed him. Maybe to get back at him, to get even? He didn’t know. But…

Saskia ruined him.

Claire mumbled something in her sleep and turned to face him, curling up close to him, as if she could smell him. Pressing a kiss to her nose, he wrapped his arm around his little bundle of life, pushed aside all pain and feelings of betrayal, and hugged close to his heart, his only babe.

“Daddy! Wake up, Daddy!”

Jahleel awoke to Claire bouncing up and down on top of him. He groaned as her little kneecaps penetrated his ribcage. He should have known better than to fall asleep in her bed, because this was her usual manner of waking him up.

Painfully.

“Jesus Christ, Claire,” he carped, gently guiding her off him.

She wriggled and tried to climb back onto him. “You have to get up, Daddy. Mommy bought a yummy pizza this big”—she stretched her tiny hands out to indicate the size of the pizza; no one made pizza that big—”and she’s gonna eat all of it if you don’t get up. She won’t listen to me, Daddy. She won’t wait until you’re up. Come on, Daddy. Let’s go!”

He laughed. Easily. Freely. Simply because she made him happy.

Close to a year ago when he’d just found out about Claire, she wasn’t this receptive of him. She was a recalcitrant little brat who drove him battyfuck crazy. Always taking her mother’s side instead of his.

Now, she called him Daddy, instead of “that man.” She was obsessed with him. Turned the tables and started taking his side instead of her mother’s. Now they were father and daughter.

Sitting up, Jahleel rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms while a yawn forced its way out, then he got to his feet and took Claire up in his arms. She loved that. Loved when people lifted her weighty ass up like she was new born.

Out the bedroom and down the stairs, he found Marsha in the living room sitting cross-legged on the couch with a large box of Hawaiian pizza on the coffee table, along with two bottles of Pepsi, watching Avengers.

Jahleel dropped down on the sofa with Claire, leaned forward and plucked up a slice of pizza. He put it at Claire’s mouth for her to take a bite, then bit into it himself.

“Was any of what you said earlier even sincere?” Marsha asked, her eyes fixed on the television.

Feeding Claire another bite, he answered, “You should know by now I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

“Maybe you meant it, maybe you didn’t. But you said all that only because you were hurt…”

Finishing off the last of his pizza, he reached forward for another slice. Claire was engrossed in the superheroes movie.

“Just spit out whatever’s in your mouth, Marsh, and tell me what’s on your mind.”

Her head swiveled to him then, eyes narrowing. “You’re a celebrity now, JK. Your business is everybody’s business. You’re here right now, with me, because you can’t have her. Because she doesn’t want you. Because she used you. Just like Krissy did.”

Jahleel bit into his pizza to buy himself some time to think before he spoke. Obviously she’d been watching the entertainment news. She saw something on it, and his heart raced at the dreadful thought of what that might be.

His phone had been blowing up with calls from his manager, Lion T’mar, since he’d landed in SF. But he’d ignored them all because he was pretty much hating everyone related to Saskia. So he had no idea what the world knew.

The pizza suddenly tasted like sand in his mouth. To God, he hoped the news mentioned nothing about a sex tape. Not because he would be embarrassed, but because he didn’t want the world to see her in that light.

Saving her from that tape being released into the world was his number one reason for walking out. Sure, he was hurt and shit, but he didn’t want a sex tape of her, made with her ex, while she was engaged to him getting out there. That wouldn’t be good for her career, her reputation. He would win all the sympathy from fans, but she would be slapped with a bright red A on her forehead and suffer media trashing.

As angry and disgusted as he was with her, he didn’t want that for her. If she was going to move on with that tatted prick, he wanted her to move on in the same light, the light where the world loved and adored every single thing she did. Not with a tarnished reputation.

“What exactly did the news say?”

“Huh,” Marsha sneered. “So it’s true. She did cheat, didn’t she? I fucking knew she would! I told you not to trust—”

“Easy with the swearin’ in front of my kid, Marsh,” he warned.

She scowled.

“What did the news say?”

Contented with his failed relationship, because that was what she’d always wanted, Marsha bit cheerily into her pizza and spoke with a full mouth. “That she was seen partying and tongue-locking in a Vegas club with her ex, Tex Laklin. They had no photos of that, just what ‘sources’ reported. They did, however, have photos of you going into the hotel this morning, then leaving angrily not long after with Zane Zekiel. Photos also of Tex Laklin leaving half-an-hour later. And photos of Saskia leaving sometime after that.”

Marsha grabbed her bottle of Pepsi and gulped some down before continuing. “The photos might not have shown what happened, but people aren’t stupid. Same as I guessed it, others will. Such a bummer they didn’t have photos of what went down in the club. Ha!”

Jahleel’s agitation got mitigated as he let out a slow sigh of relief while Marsha had her fun at his expense.

Nothing about a sex tape. No evidence of the club scene. Just rumors and speculations.

Saskia could work with that. Let her PR people salvage it. Lion could come up with some bullshit story. Petty stuff. She could come out unscathed, if they tackled it smartly.

But he wouldn’t be her saving grace this time around.

Pushing all thoughts of Saskia and her fucking paparazzi-following, no-privacy, chaotic life out of his thoughts, he pulled Claire onto his lap. But her mind wasn’t there; she was lost in the movie. A movie addict just like her father.

“I’m gonna have my assistant bring some stuff over for me, ‘kay? Crashing here for a couple of days,” Jahleel mumbled, leaning back and making himself comfortable. “Wanna spend more time with Claire.”

Nice excuse.

Marsha scoffed. “So you’re just telling me you’re crashing here instead of asking me? What if I have someone who wants to come see me?”

He looked over at her. “You got a man?”

She averted her eyes and gulped down more Pepsi. “You can stay.”

As if he’d asked.

“You gotta do better than this, though, Marsh. We talked about this.” He waved a hand at the pizza box. “It’s Sunday and you’re feedin’ my daughter pizza for dinner.”

“What? She loves pizza!”

Claire chimed in, “I love pizza, Daddy.” She bounced up and down on his lap, chanting, “I love pizza. I love pizza.”

Ignoring her, because she was too young to know what the hell was good for her, he addressed Marsha. “What did she have for breakfast?”

“Cereal.”

“Lunch?”

Marsha winced. “Oreos.” Then she quickly added, “But that’s what she asked for.”

Jahleel shook his head, tired of having to go over the same thing with this woman. “She deserves a proper breakfast, a proper lunch, and a proper dinner. Stop feedin’ my daughter junk food or we’re gonna have it out. You understand?”

She kept quiet, but rolled her eyes.

“A matter of fact, screw this pizza. We’re going out for dinner.” He spun Claire around to face him, and brought his nose close to hers. “Where would you like to go for dinner, Claire?”

“Disney land!” she shouted excitedly, her golden eyes wide.

Jahleel laughed. “Disney Land is not a restaurant. But I tell you what, if you can pronounce the word supercalifragilisticexpialidocious by the end of the week, we’re going to Disney Land. But for now, pick a restaurant.”

Raising one hand, she tapped her little fingers on her chin and clucked her tongue as she thought about it.

Marsha laughed.

He did, too.

Claire must’ve learned that move from some shit she watched on television.

Then her face brightened. “Apple Beeeeezzzee!” she exclaimed, dragging out the Bees. “Aunty Kwissy and uncle Trev took me there and it was so much fun! I wanna go again.”

“Apple Bees it is.”

Standing up with Claire, Jahleel reached into his pocket for his cell, punched in the unlock code, then tossed it to Marsha. “Here. Call my assistant and tell her to bring some stuff over. And yeah, we’re going to Disney Land next week. Have her set it up with a time friendly with both our schedules. Next week busy for you?”

Blinking at him with a weird expression on her face, she shook her head. “N-No. Not really…I can do Disney Land.”

“‘Kay. Sort it out. I’m gonna get Claire ready.” A few feet off, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “Oh, and tell your man not to show up at Apple Bees.”

With another eye roll, she looked down at his phone in her hand. A smile tugged at her lips. “Whatever.”

She didn’t have a man.

Chapter Eleven

“What the fuck is this?”

Jahleel barged into Lion’s office and slapped the entertainment magazine down onto his desk.

Lion glanced down at the magazine, then laughed. “You flew all the way to LA to ask me why Kia is photographed wearin’ a hat that, well, almost every single gal is wearin’ now?”

Frustration forced a growl out of him. “Hers is different. See, JK’s Only Babe. She did that. What the fuck is she tryna do, punk me out?”

Maybe he was overreacting, hopping on a flight to LA to curse Lion out, but he just about had enough of Saskia’s bullshit over the past two months.

Not only had she gone back to being blonde, but she straightened her hair and wore it down with a center part, all the time. Because she knew he liked her hair like that. She continued wearing his engagement ring, and continued using the mike he gave her in all her performances.

Every stake-claiming thing she did, he’d ignored it. But all she did each time she didn’t get a rise out of him, was turn it up a notch. Pissing on him like he was a fucking fire hydrant while he was fighting harder than a soldier in Iraq to get the fuck over her.

Now it was the JK’s Only Babe ball-cap. Every day, everywhere she went, for the past week, she was being photographed in the damn cap.

After the incident in Vegas, the media jumped on and trashed her to the ground, calling her the worst of names. It was hard for him to have to listen to people talk all kinds of shit about her, coming up with endless falsity.

When he thought Saskia would’ve curled up and gone into hiding, stepped off the scene for a while until things cooled off, she surprised the hell out of him by riding the bad publicity wave. She never backed off, never defended herself. She smiled wider. She laughed harder. She sang sweeter.

Proud to say, he admired her new found strength. Not that she wasn’t strong before. She was always strong, even when she thought she was weak. But now, she was stronger. And that just served to make him love her even more.

Saskia Day was a fucking phenomenal woman, and no one could ever take her place. Ever. She stole his breath every time on a dime. Blew him away like he was a fucking pussy willow. Reeled him in like a starving fish gagging on a bait. And cheated him of his heart like a sly fucking swindler.

Every time.

She still owned him. Always did and always would. She knew this. And she was letting him know that she knew this.

In interviews, whenever hosts tried broaching the subject of her and him and Tex, she’d wiggle her ring finger, smile broadly, look straight into the camera and say, “JK’s still my fiancé.”

One talk show host pulled up pics of him, Marsha, and Claire at various places, having fun like a family, from Disney Land to Paris. Saskia had merely looked at the pictures with a smile, commented on how cute Claire was, then emphasized, “JK’s still my fiancé.”

Some people accused her of being deluded. Some thought it was romantic.

Him? All he wanted to do was fucking strangle her.

Lion folded his arms, sat back in his chair, and grinned up at him. “Looks to me like she wants you back.”

“Not gonna happen,” he gritted out. “So tell her to quit fuckin’ staking claim on me. She doesn’t own me.”

“Well, she obviously believes otherwise,” Lion pointed out, still grinning.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Her. This whole situation.” He waved his hand around. “You’re both so in love with each other, it’s fuckin’ ridiculous the things you do. I knew this was gonna happen. Saw it from a mile away. I warned you both. And I should be pissed right now. But instead, I’m amused. I’m actually sittin’ on the edge of my seat waitin’ to see how shit’s gonna play out this time.”

“Look, assfuck, me and Sassy? We’re done. You’re her manager, tell her to stop this shit. If she doesn’t, I’m gonna slap a ring on some random chick’s finger and start taking interviews to talk about my new engagement. And that’s only gonna leave Saskia Day, your product, looking like a sick, pathetic loony bird.”

Lion straightened up in his chair, realizing Jahleel’s seriousness. Lion knew he didn’t make idle threats. And if they kept poking the asshole in him with a hot rod, he would dish it out at the full one hundred percent.

So far, he’d been playing nice.

“Okay, okay,” Lion placated. “You don’t need to be an asshole, aight? I’ll talk to her ‘bout it.”

“Thank you,” Jahleel hissed out and turned to leave.

“Are you really back with Marsha?” Lion asked, stopping him.

“What’s it to you?”

“Just askin’,” Lion mumbled. “You’ve been completely closed off since this shit went down. We only talk ‘bout proposals and contracts. And I feel a lil hurt, to tell you the truth. ‘Cause we’ve had a close relationship long before I became your manager. I’m just Saskia’s manager, JK. I’m not her. So it ain’t fair that you’ve shut me out. I’d never betray your confidence and you know that.”

Scrubbing both hands down his face, Jahleel turned around and answered truthfully, “No.”

Lion was unconvinced. “You’ve been livin’ in her home for the past two months, and you’re tellin’ me you’re not tappin’ that?”

God he hated when people questioned his honesty. “You just asked me a question and I answered with the truth. I’m spending time with my daughter.”

“So why not take Claire to your place, then? Why stay at Marsha’s?”

When Jahleel plead the fifth, Lion figured it out.

“The house reminds you of her, doesn’t it? It’s too close to her home. Shit, you’re thinkin’ of sellin’ it, aren’t you?”

Lion could read him too well.

True, Jahleel had bought the house to be closer to Saskia. Now he wanted to sell the damn place because it was too close to her. He didn’t want to even go there because she had a lot of shit there he didn’t want to see. Not even to gather them to burn them. Then there was their entwined initials, big and bold, right in the foyer to remind him what a joke he was.

“Enough, Dr. Phil,” Jahleel said. “I’m out.”

“You still love her, JK. Don’t deny it, ‘cause it’s clear as fuckin’ day. You need to give her a chance.”

“Not a—”

“I spoke to Tex, JK. He admitted to druggin’ her. And he’s pretty beat up about it.”

Jahleel snorted. “Well, if she’d stayed in her fuckin’ booth that wouldn’t have happened, now would it? Why would she go in the first place if she didn’t still have feelings for him? Where’s the fuckin’ respect for me?”

Lion stood up and rounded his desk, propping himself on the edge. “Okay, be angry with her for that. But don’t punish her for what happened after. She trusted him, and he fucked her over out of revenge. You know, like I know, JK, that Kia has never and will never love anyone else but you.

“Tex has backed off ‘cause he’s come to realize this, too. Consciously, Saskia would never do shit like that. And I could swear for her in a fuckin’ court house. Just like I swore for you that you’d never hit a woman when Tex tried to start up that rumor ‘bout you bein’ a woman beater. She loves you, JK, and you love her. Stop fuckin’ torturin’ yourselves.”

Raking his teeth over his lower lip, Jahleel took a step toward Lion. “Lemme ask you this: if it was Twana, if you saw her on camera getting her brains fucked out over and over again by someone that wasn’t you, if you watched her polish another man’s cock and enjoyed doing it, while wearing your ring on her finger, how would you cope with all those images burned into your head if you did decide to forgive her and move on? How would you move on from that? Tell me how, Lion, and I’ll give Sassy a chance.”

Lion stared back at him, his expression horrified at the thought of that being his queen, Twana.

Jahleel waited for one, two, three…sixty seconds, and when Lion came up with nothing, he bit out, “That’s what I thought,” then turned and left his office.

“…Three steps back. Oblique left twist, right twist. Knee slide forward. 360 knee spin. Turn. Back flip….one, two, three, air toss Trent!”

Jahleel crossed his arms, watching as his dancers tossed Trent up in the air. Trent air flipped, then came down landing on one hand. Perfect, except his shirt was still on.

“The fuck, Trent?”

Trent frog-jumped to his feet, breathing hard. “Sorry, JK. But it’s hard getting my shirt off during the flip. Mace is shorter, why can’t he do it?”

“Because you’re the only one here who can’t do it. I want a team where everyone’s on the same level. If Mace can do a move you can’t do, you better damn well learn how to do it. Stick a tampon in and stop bitchin’.” He clapped his hands. “Now start again from ‘…uno, dos, tres, quatro.’ Mace and Dane, this time toss Trent up at ‘talk dirty to me.’”

Jahleel watched them go at it again. This time Trent came down with his shirt halfway over his head as he landed flat on his back instead of on his hand.

The others burst out in a brawling laughter, but Jahleel wasn’t in a laughing mood. This performance was for the night to follow, and if this idiot fucked it up and made him look bad…it wouldn’t be pretty.

Walking over to a prone Trent, he sneered, “If you weren’t already on the ground, I’d drop-kick you flat on your fuckin’ face. Get your sorry ass up.”

Trent groaned and grumbled out something, but Jahleel’s attention was snagged by Chad, who strolled through his studio door, quiet as a prowling black panther.

Pointing at Mace, who was laughing like a fucking hyena, Jahleel growled, “You, fuckface, I dunno why you find this so funny, ‘cause if he botches this performance tomorrow, we all look bad. So since you’re the one showing the most fuckin’ teeth right now, you’re in charge of makin’ him get it right by tomorrow. If he goes down, you go down, too.” He turned and went to grab his water bottle from the floor. “Now get the fuck out of here, all of you.”

They left in a drag of grunts and grumbles, and Chad waited until the room was cleared out before heading over to him.

Jahleel hauled the only chair in the room beneath him and plopped down on it. Rocking on its back legs, he sucked down ice-cold water, warily eying the man approaching him.

What on earth was his mission now?

They weren’t on friend-to-friend speaking terms. Haven’t been since the asswipe dated Saskia behind his back. All their ensuing interactions had been about business, what with them being business partners in innumerable ventures.

“Was that Tiara I spotted leaving here earlier?” Chad asked.

Jahleel shot him a loathsome glare.

Of course, Tiara had been trying to weasel herself back to him since his…parting with Saskia. But he wasn’t interested. He wasn’t interested in anyone for that matter. He was going through a dry spell. Like Saskia cursed his dick or something, because he wasn’t getting hard for anyone except the nudies of Saskia in his phone. Pics he used to sneakily snap whenever she was sleeping naked and sated.

Yeah, Tiara popped in about an hour ago. Made a move on him in his office. And for a first in two months, he’d felt a bit of stirring in his boxers and began kissing her back, undressing her and shit.

But once she was naked, he’d realized there wasn’t a “Fuck D Werl” tat on her ribcage. There wasn’t a scull navel-ring in her navel. Her stomach was plain flat instead of having slightly raised abs. She was clean shaven instead of having a sexy, slim line of hair that he loved running his nose along. Her legs were skinnier, longer, and there wasn’t an ever-present music note silver anklet around her left ankle.

That’s because the naked girl on his desk was Tiara.

Not Saskia.

Her body wasn’t the one he wanted. Not the one he knew so well. Not the body he wanted to curl around and fall asleep with until his day of death.

So the stirring had fled at the speed of light, and his cock went limp.

He’d sent Tiara home.

Meaningless sex, he was done with it. Being with Saskia had changed him radically. If he was to ever get with someone again, that person would have to mean something to him.

“Never knew you had eye problems, Chadrick.”

Chad chortled, but it was nothing of humor. “She must be over the moon to have you back. I saw her in Milan after you left her and she was an ugly, crying mess—”

“Huh,” Jahleel scoffed out. “Lemme conclude, you swept in like a knight in shining armor and fucked her, too.”

Chad glowered now. “I’m not in for your sloppy seconds. You and I have completely different tastes in women, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Sas—”

“Saskia was different,” Chad quickly defended. “She’s down to earth. Laid back, trustworthy, and just fucking bad. You know that’s my kind of woman. I liked her on a whole different level. And you wanna know why I broke up with her?”

“Don’t care.”

“Because I was falling for her,” he went on anyway. “I was falling deeper and deeper each day while she was flat-out in love with you. It hurt. And I was terrified that if I continued, the same thing that happened with her back then, would’ve happened with Saskia. Would you have preferred it if I stayed with her, knowing she loved you, then when she inevitably hurt me, you get her back in a body bag?”

The man’s cold voice sent chills over Jahleel. The mere thought of Saskia dying at this sick fucker’s hands made him feel all kinds of inexpressible things inside.

Chad was a bad man. And for the time that Saskia dated him, Jahleel had worried like hell that she would do something to piss Chad off the wrong way, which wouldn’t end well. Because Chad was two people in one. There was the cool, easy-going, American boy side of him, and there was the mean, dark Russian side of him. And while Jahleel accepted both sides without judgment, he wouldn’t ignore the fact that the man was capricious, deleterious, noxious, and most definitely shouldn’t be trusted at the full one hundred percent. Seventy percent was okay, maybe even eighty, but not one hundred percent. Ever.

Jahleel thought himself fortunate to have a best friend title with this guy. Because that meant he could piss him off as much as he wanted and get away with it. Not many people got away with pissing off Chadrick. Didn’t matter how well they could recite the Lord’s Prayer.

The ‘fall guy’ who was in jail for allegedly trying to kill Saskia, was one of the unlucky people who got on Chad’s dark side. Jahleel had fed Saskia some bullshit story about the man owing debts. But he knew that man was as good as dead if he hadn’t taken Chad’s deal.

Chad Niiveux was simply not a man to be fucked with. Period.

But Jahleel fucked with him without fear all the time. He was privileged.

“Would’ve murdered you if you’d hurt her,” Jahleel promised through clenched teeth, glaring up at his friend.

Chad let out a scoff that read “and I would’ve had fun watching you try.” “I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry, JK. Saskia meant, and still means, more to me than you think.”

Jahleel sniffed and averted his gaze. It didn’t make sense picking one with this dude. “Did you really come here to chat about my exes?”

Shaking his head, his friend flattened his lips. “No, actually. I came to talk business.” He pulled out a manila envelope from his jacket pocket and slapped it to Jahleel’s chest. “All I need is your signature.”

Ignoring the envelope, he looked up at Chad, who was grinning by then. “For what? To finalize our divorce? That grin makes me feel real shitty. You’re just so excited to get rid of me. I didn’t know our marriage was that bad.”

Like a bitch, Chad actually rolled his eyes. “That, my friend, is the partnership agreement to our new business.”

“What business?”

“Your sports-bikes idea, dickhead! Red Rhage Sports Bikes is fucking official.”

Jahleel sat up straighter, setting his water bottle aside and tearing the envelope open to read over the papers. “Fuck. They really approved it?”

“Took a lot of persuasion and deliberation, but, yeah, they gave us the green light.”

“Wait, this says fifty-fifty…” Jahleel stuffed the papers back into the envelope and thrust it back to Chad. “Sixty-forty, Chad. You know this.”

Refusing to take the envelope, Chad just stared at him. “Why do you always ask for sixty-forty? Who does that?”

Jahleel chuckled. Laughs were scarce for him these days. “Thought it was obvious. I care about the profit. You care about control. When I take forty and you take sixty, I get to sink back and leave all the work to you. I like being silent and invisible. I don’t wanna have to give a shit about nothing but profit. You more, me less, means you work and I rest. You get to make the decisions, you get to do everything. I just collect.”

Chad gave Jahleel a disgusted sneer, as though he’d never thought of that before. He was such a domineering control freak that he’d never even realized Jahleel had been dumping it all on him. “You are such a fucking asshole, JK.”

Jahleel laughed harder. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t love being the head man in charge.”

Suddenly Chad smirked. “Well, there isn’t gonna be any ‘kicking back’ or invisibility with this one, buddy. You’re going to be the face for this brand.”

“Like fuck, I am.”

“Dude, you already ride sports bikes, and you got that whole famous, every-slut-wants-my-cock-in-their-mouth thing going for you. The face has got to be yours.”

As Jahleel started to object, Chad asserted, “As the ‘head man in charge,’ I say you don’t have a choice. You, my friend, will be the face of Red Rage.”

Fucked right up in the ass, Jahleel just grunted in response. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“Okay, I’ve set up a meeting for next week Tuesday at my place. 4 p.m. Have your lawyer present so we can go over…”

Jahleel’s sense of hearing fled him the second his studio opened, and she walked in.

It’s said that when a person is dying, the first sense that goes is hearing. And, well, that was precisely how Jahleel felt at the moment.

Like he was dying.

This woman. She just stepped into the room and sucked all the fucking energy out of it, all the air. Suffocating him. Killing him.

This power she had, it was the same when he’d seen her on stage in Manchester for the first time. She’d rendered him paralyzed, forcing him to acknowledge her beauty, to listen to her words as she sang.

This power, she didn’t know she had it. She didn’t know what her presence did to him. How it made his skin burn, his blood roil, his knees weaken, and his palms sweat. Every time. Every fucking time.

She had no idea.

This feeling, this out-of-his-control feeling usually made him so fucking annoyed with himself, he would just asshole it out on her. Because he never wanted to be like a bitch. Having sweaty palms and shit over some girl.

Now here she was. Standing in his studio. Her power over him stronger than ever.

It felt like five invisible fingers were curled around his throat, squeezing every last drop of breath out of him, stealing his will, forcing him to submit to her.

He needed air. He needed to breathe. He needed out of this room. Away from her.

Jahleel shot up so fast the chair fell backward and the envelope flew forward from his lap. Mentally reminding himself how to put one foot before the other, he breezed across the dance room, shouldered past her, and rushed through the door like the fires of hell were chasing him.

Sprinted. He sprinted down the stairs and out of the building, heading straight to the parking lot. Locating his bike, he hopped on in a blurry whirl, and blew the fuck out of there.

He could breathe.

Fucking finally. He could breathe.

After over an hour of riding around aimlessly, he. could. breathe.

The woman had literally chased him out of his own goddamn building. Proving just how much she owned his sorry ass. How much control she had over him. He didn’t stand a fucking chance in hell where she was concerned.

As he careened back onto his studio complex, he saw her Phantom still parked there, Thomas propped up against it on the driver’s side, reading the San Francisco Chronicle.

She’s still fucking here.

Jahleel pulled up right next to the Phantom. Thomas glanced over and hailed him, but he ignored him. He knew it wasn’t Thomas’ fault that his woman cheated on him, but…fuck the hell off with everyone right now.

Why on earth would Saskia show up there? Why?

After three months of being apart, she never once called, text, emailed or tried to get in touch with him at all, and he’d appreciated the shit out of her for not flooding him with empty apologies or excuses.

But now she just showed up?

Entering his building, he took the first left turn leading to his office to avoid going upstairs where she would be. Most likely with Chad.

But when he reached the crossway to his office, there she was, sitting patiently in a chair situated on the opposite side.

Fuck. Was as if she knew that’s what he would do when he returned. Planned for him, fixing the chair in a position where she knew he wouldn’t be able to see her until he got up to the door.

He forgot how determined she could be.

Her blonde hair glowed in rippled curls, exactly how he remembered it being the first time he saw her. The golden color made her eyes appear wider and brighter, the gray more striking. She was so…

Light. It was the only word he could find best to describe her.

She was light.

There was nothing he could miss about her because she was so fucking bright.

He was aware of her eyebrow piercing. The nude lipstick. The dust of freckles over her nose. The faint dimple on her chin. The tightness of the black Metallica T-shirt she wore. The shortness of her ragged jeans shorts. The longness of her smooth, unblemished legs. The newness of her…hmm…Timberlands. The apology in her big gray eyes as they gazed unblinkingly up at him.

He saw everything. Every detail. Even though he was pretending not to as he opened his office door.

Her voice, soft, but rich, “Don’t run from me.”

His voice, detached, but oh so fucking attached, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He flung his door open and went in.

Tossing his keys on the desk with a racing heart, he walked over to his mini fridge to grab a bottle of water. He wished he had some stronger liquid. But he didn’t keep alcohol there. Maybe he should rethink that “no alcohol” rule and store a bottle of Jack there. Precisely for moments like these.

“Can I come in?” Her thick, sexy accent slid over him like silk against lace, and that was all it took for him to…stir.

Unbeknownst to her, her accent was a major turn on for him.

“Will you leave if I say no?”

“No.”

“Why fuckin’ ask, then?” He waved his free hand at the chair in front of his desk. “Go on. Sit. Kick your feet up. Make yourself comfortable. You’ve been pissin’ all over me for the past three months like you own me. So why be fuckin’ polite now?”

With a sigh, she walked into the room and closed the door behind her. “JK, I didn’t come here to argue, okay? I think we’ve done enough of that already.”

“Would’ve preferred it, Sassy, if you hadn’t come here at all.”

“I want us to do a threesome.”

What? “What?”

“Crap. That didn’t come out right,” she said, laughing a little. “I mean, not a threesome, threesome. But…like I get to watch…while you…you…you know…”

What the fuck was she proposing? “No, I don’t know, Sassy. Spit out whatever’s in your mouth—Tex’s cock, maybe?—’cause I can’t hear you very well.”

Shoulders squaring, she pinned him a hateful glare, took in a huff of breath, then almost immediately sighed in defeat, her shoulders slumping forward. “I guess I deserved that, yeah?”

She looked down at the floor, cleared her throat, and then looked back at him with renewed purpose. “For the past three months, I’ve struggled not to contact you in any way, nor try to find excuses or justification for what I did. Even though I was drugged, I take all the blame. First of all, I disrespected you by going into Tex’s booth to party with him.

“We were both supposed to make an appearance at that club, as a couple, so out of respect for you, I should have never even thought about conversing with my ex at that event. I knew he loved me. I knew he was spurned and bitter from what I did to him, and I still, against all warnings, went ahead and trusted him. So, I think I pretty much deserve what I got. I took my punishment from him and the public like a big girl. I’ve dealt with it.”

Inhaling deeply, she took a step deeper into the room. “But there’s one thing I can’t deal with, and that’s losing you. The only reason I stayed away for so long, was to give you time to heal. I knew if I kept pushing, I would push too hard to a point of no return, and I’d lose you altogether. I hope this is still not too soon, because I want you back, JK, and I can’t stay away from you any longer. The bit of strength I’d build up to sustain the blow from the media is slowly draining, leaving me wizened. I need you.”

Blowing out a long, steady breath, she shook her hands, then wiped them down her jeans shorts before moving to sit in the chair.

This was Nervous Sassy.

Her feet bounced up and down. “I tried to think up a million ways of how to salvage this. Everything seems ‘not enough.’ But this…” Her eyes met his. “I…there’s this girl. She’s your type, I’m sure. She’s clean and everything. I could show you her medical records if you like. Um, she’s agreed to let you…shag her…while I watch.” Eye contact broken. “Maybe, it will make you feel better if the roles are reversed and I have to sit and watch you…enjoy someone who isn’t me?”

Jahleel leaned back against the wall behind him and stared at her. Just stared.

This girl. She didn’t get it. She thought this was about sex. So she thought sex could solve this fuck of a mess she created.

Didn’t she know that whenever he had sex with her he didn’t come just because it was sex? He came, and came hard inside every time, because he was in love with her. He enjoyed it thoroughly, solely because it was her. Just knowing it was her, so intimately connected with him, sweating and panting and moving together. Just knowing she was his forever.

That was what made sex with Saskia not sex, but love.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Her expression grew somber. “JK, please, tell me what I need to do to make things right. Anything you say I’ll do it. Please.”

“That’s the fuckin’ point!” he snapped at her. “There’s nothing you can do to fuckin’ ‘fix’ this, Sassy. It’s over! You ended us. I’ll never be able to trust you again and I’ll never be able to make love to you and feel like you’re mine.”

Fingers twisting, she stared down at them. “This might work, JK. Could you at least think about it?”

“Could you at least, ah, leave?”

Nodding, she slowly stood up. “I love you, JK. So much. I’ll never—”

Saskia stopped speaking when Jahleel started searching all around. Pulling out the desk drawers and closing them. Looking under the desk. Emptying his sweats pockets, pulling them inside out.

“Wha-what are you doing?” she asked with a tinge of hope to her voice.

“Looking for a fuck to give.”

Without another word, she turned and left.

Gone.

With that one word echoing in his head, his knees weakened and he eased down into his chair. Leaning forward, he banged his head on the desk until it hurt.

He could be an asshole as much as he wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that he was an asshole stuck in love.

Chapter Twelve

“Daddy, can we watch the bitten video again?”

Retreating from the brink of sleep, Jahleel lifted his arm from over his eyes and peeped down at Claire. She was drawing on his chest with a Sharpie marker: a stick figure woman with what looked like long curly hair, oddly shaped eyes with one bigger than the other, and two triangles sticking out of her mouth—he supposed them to be her version of fangs.

Awful drawing. Just awful.

Jahleel couldn’t help laughing as he propped up on his elbows a bit to peer down at his chest covered in her horrendous drawings. “What you drawing, baby?”

“Vampire lady,” she answered absently as she tipped her head to the side and began coloring in the triangular fangs, humming the Bitten song as she did.

Something the size of a fist clogged his throat. He swallowed. Hard.

No getting away from her, was there?

There he was, chilling with his daughter in her room to take his mind off life for a while, off how much of a wretched bitch it was. Claire’s room. His safe haven. The place he came to whenever he wanted to forget…everything. It was a quiet and innocent place to be. Just be.

Claire. The person he came to whenever he wanted to forget…everyone. And just not think.

Now she, his own daughter, had ruined that. By drawing her all over him. On his skin. That fucking stick hand right over his heart.

Her love, her light, was so fucking powerful, it had broken into his safe haven, through his daughter, using her to get her mark on him.

The woman was still pissing on him.

Still marking, tagging, staking, claiming, owning.

An annoyed sigh flowed through his nostrils as his forearms gave way and he flopped back onto the bed.

There was no escaping her. There was nowhere to hide. Love had screwed him. She had ruined him. He had a hollow space where his heart once resided. Because she still held his heart tightly in her grasp and refused to give it back. He was stuck.

Stuck in love.

A sweet, pure, virginal voice, “I can’t wait to grow up and get bitten like you, Daddy.”

Oh God, kill me now, won’t you?!

Jahleel covered his eyes with his arm again and grunted.

Oblivious to his agony, Claire went on as she drew. “Does it hurt to get bitten, Daddy?”

He didn’t answer. And if she wasn’t his own flesh and blood, he’d tell her to fuck right off and leave.

“Daddy, are you asleep?”

The mattress moved as she crawled her way up to him then struggled to move his arm from over his eyes. When she found he was wide awake, she grinned at him, leaned forward, and began drawing who the fuck knows what on his chin as she asked again, “Does it, Daddy? Does it hurt to get bitten?”

She wasn’t giving up. She was obsessed with this “bitten” shit. He’d watched the Bitten music video with her too many times, and now she was hooked on it. Plus the song wasn’t getting any less popular. In fact, it had shot right back to number one during the cheating/broken engagement fiasco.

Realizing he wasn’t going to be left alone without answering or fake sleeping, Jahleel reached a hand up and cupped the side of Claire’s face. “Yes, baby. It hurts. So bad. Sometimes I like being bitten. Other times I wish I wasn’t bitten. Because I don’t like the pain that comes with it. But to be bitten means you’ve been claimed. Marked. Forever marked. So even though it hurts sometimes, you gotta embrace the pain and hope that one day, being bitten will start to feel good again. Because when it’s good, it’s great, Claire. It’s great. You want it to end, never.”

Remembering that he was talking to a four-year-old, who’d merely asked him a simple yes-or-no question, he stopped his blabbing.

Claire just blinked at him. Of course, she didn’t understand.

Popping the cover back on her Sharpie marker, she threw it across the room like a rebel, then snuggled up next to him. “Can we watch the vampire lady video? When are we gonna see vampire lady again, Daddy? Mommy says never. But I miss vampire lady. She talks different. Can we have pizza for breakfast? Will you sleep in my room tonight…?”

As Claire fired off a string of discombobulated questions, Jahleel eased his cell out of his pocket and pulled up the YouTube app, tapped in Bitten by Saskia Day (Official Music Video), and hit play.

As soon as the video ended, Claire demanded he played it again. And again. Until she started drifting.

Marsha waltzed into the room with a cup of tea. Looking fresh from a shower, she was wrapped in a short silk robe. Marsha had the kind of body men pictured in their minds when jacking off. She was hot, she was sexy, she was fresh, and she was pretty as fuck.

He should have been fucking her to bruises and soreness in a million different ways. He was single, after all.

But as much as she paraded around the house in her usual silky, lacy, skimpy, come-fuck-me garments, his cock never even tried to peek between her thighs. And to believe there was once a time when he couldn’t so much as glimpse Marsha and not want to fuck the shit out of her, she was so hot.

Now? Nothing.

Stopping at the bedside, she smiled and shook her head at the markings all over him, then held out the cup to him. “Earl Grey.”

Jahleel mumbled out a thanks and told her to put it on the nightstand before bringing his attention back to the video playing on his phone.

Marsha fidgeted about the bedside, but Jahleel made it a point not to inquire what was wrong. Of course, she could hear the song and knew what he and Claire were watching, though Claire was nodding off to sleep by then, sucking on her thumb.

It bothered her. It always did. Everything about her bother her.

Marsha sat down on the edge of the bed without invitation, and Jahleel finally made himself look at her, giving her the “what the fuck do you want” expression.

“You’ve seen her recently, haven’t you?” she asked in a whisper, perhaps to not ruin Claire’s near sleep.

In lieu of answering, he just stared at her. He wouldn’t answer that, because, really, how was it her business? And how did she even know he’d seen Saskia?

“Maybe it’s because I’ve known you for a long time,” she continued, despite his lack of response, “but, JK, I love you so much that, at this point, I can read you a lot better than you think. And when it comes to her, nothing’s hidden. Either you don’t know how to hide anymore, or whatever you feel for her is too strong to be hidden.

“Based on the change in your mood, I can tell exactly when you saw her. It was last Thursday. You came home and you were…just not who you were when you came here fresh from a heartbreak three months ago. Since Thursday, you’ve been heavier, draggy. You frown a lot. The creases between your brows are perpetual like you’re vacillating on something…” She trailed off and sighed, staring down at her hands in her lap. “She wants you back, and you’re thinking it over. Thinking it over. You’re fucking thinking it over.”

“Marsh, just like I don’t give a flyin’ fuck what’s goin’ in on your life beyond my daughter, you’re not supposed to care what’s going on in mine. Got that? We have one common factor here and it’s Claire. That’s about it.”

She sniffled then. But he could care less. Women’s tears didn’t work on him. “You were never gonna get back together with me, were you?”

Jahleel’s gaze snapped to hers. “Were we ever together, Marsh?” he asked with incredulity. “Did I fuck you bareback as my girlfriend and knock you up? Or were you a fuck friend who stole my sperm, knocked yourself up, and then tried to pass my daughter off to another man?”

She winced. “I love you.”

“I don’t need to tell you the feeling’s not mutual, do I?”

The tears flowed freely from her eyes, and she shuddered. “I…you’ve been so good to me. You took me and Claire places. Everywhere. In the past couple of months, we were like…a family. You practically live here. And you’ve made me fall in love with you all over again…I just…I just thought…”

“Never, Marsha. Not ever,” he told her in a firm and certain tone. “And I’m not sayin’ this to be mean, okay? That’s just the way it is. Sorry if ever I made you think otherwise.”

Marsha sniffled for a few minutes, then suddenly straightened her shoulders and wiped her tears away. “You should hurt her back.”

Jahleel cleared his phone screen and stuffed the cell back in his pocket, then he rolled a deep-sleeping Claire over onto her stomach so he wouldn’t end up with a stray punch to the face once she started fighting in her sleep.

Then to Marsha, “What?”

“You’re gonna go back to her,” she expounded. “I know you are. You’re so in love with her, I don’t think you even realize how much. You just can’t hide it. I’ve seen what you felt for Krissy once, and I’m seeing what you feel for Saskia now. And it’s so completely different. You wanted Krissy on a tolerable level, but you didn’t need her, because you let her do whatever she wanted. Date whoever she wanted. Fuck whoever she wanted. And you only started acting like you gave shit when she started dating Trev because you were also falling for someone, Saskia, and what you felt was confusing you.

“Saskia, you need her, on an intolerable level. You can’t stomach her doing the things you used to allow Krissy to do. It rips you up, and it shows. And as much as I hate it, hate her, I can’t force you to love me. I just have to accept that the man I love is in love with someone else. But the fact is, I still love you, I don’t think I can stop, and loving you also means I care about you. So I hate to see you hurting like this. Your hurt hurts me, JK.”

Marsha paused and took a deep breath, closing her eyes, as though digging for inner strength. “So, what I’m saying is, before you even think about taking her back, fuck her heart up the same way she did yours. It will not heal you, it will not make the facts disappear, but it might help you cope with those facts. If you can’t imagine growing old with anyone else but her, then one fuck-up of hers is not worth being miserable for the rest of your life. So since the forgiveness thing’s not working out, try another route. I’m not suggesting this because I hate her. The unacceptable truth is, sometimes, an eye for an eye works a fuck of a lot better than turning the other cheek.”

Jahleel actually laughed at this logic. “Would you do that to me, Marsh? An eye for an eye?”

“No. I love you too much.”

“Well there, you got your answer,” he said. “I’d rather pluck my other eye out and hand it over to her. So she’ll have four eyes and I’ll have none. So I’ll have to follow wherever she leads. That’s how much I love her.” He turned away from Marsha and rolled onto his side, staring unseeing at Claire’s flowery wall. “Blind in love. I’d rather be blind in love than hurt her.”

That’s what he’d thought at the time. But two weeks later when the heartache was nowhere close to subsiding, he’d began pondering on the two women’s suggestions. Would that really help?

Stupid. He thought it was stupid. And if one should ask him again and again, he’d give the same answer: it’s fucking stupid.

But one night while he was in bed watching her as a guest on a late night show, her damn accent filling his head, her smile bright enough to light up an entire fucking continent, her beauty weightless and intangible like light, bright fucking light, he broke down and texted her.

Thought about it.
Tomorrow. My place.
8pm.

At 9:15 p.m., Jahleel rode through the gates of his residence. Three months and two weeks, that’s how long it’d been since he’d been to this place. His own home.

The Phantom was parked next to his Jeep. Of course, she’d let herself in. She had her own keys. How’d he forgotten that?

Jahleel parked his bike and reluctantly mounted the steps to his front door. He’d made arrangements to meet there at eight, but now it was after nine. He’d gotten caught up in a meeting with Chad about Red Rhage. The meeting had stretched on for hours, and because he didn’t want to go through with this…thing to begin with, he never bothered calling to let her know he’d be late.

Nope, he wasn’t in a haste to come fuck some chick in front of her and rip her fucking heart out.

The door swung open just as he reached out to turn the handle.

Saskia. Phone in her hand, her big, cat-gray eyes staring wide up at him.

“Oh,” she murmured. And as if she couldn’t help it, her gaze drifted down his body, taking him in. “I tried ringing you a couple times…thought you changed your mind…”

“You thought, or you hoped?” he asked emptily.

“I…” She sighed. “All I want is you, JK. What we had. I want it back.”

Ignoring that, he moved to the side and brushed past her into his house.

Heat, hot lava heat, seared up his shoulder when it brushed against hers.

That was the kind of fucking impact she had on him.

The door closed with a click behind him, and he fought like hell not to turn around, grab her, slam her up against him, and kiss the fuck out of that dirty, little Brit mouth. He also tried his damnedest not to look down at the floor, where their initials were wrapped around each other.

A brunette broke around the corner from the kitchen just then, eating ice-cream from a small porcelain bowl, and he had to wonder if Saskia was trying to lose him, or win him back. Because this chick was a solid ten.

Why would she pick a chick who looked like that?

In a barely there, too-tight-to-breathe red dress, she was a little shorter than Saskia, a little thicker, curvier, prettier, with a half-slut, half-virgin thing going on.

Tilting his head, Jahleel assessed her from a different angle, and, yeah, she got fucking ass. A lovely ass. A Marsha kind of ass.

He laughed a little to himself, because this just might work after all. Not to reconcile things with Saskia, but to get the fuck over her with the first girl—other than Saskia—who had managed to get a rise out of his cock after being dead and uninterested in the female species for the past couple of months.

Saskia mistook his laugh for something different and came to stand next to him, anxiously wringing her hands. “Is she good enough? She catches your fancy?” she asked. “I had her wear red since it’s your favorite color and all…”

Without answering, he walked over to the girl who was damn well gawking at him. Either she wasn’t told the identity of her fuck partner for the night, or she was a fan, er, “JK’s Babe.”

Looming over her, Jahleel used his thumb to wipe a smudge of chocolate ice-cream from her bottom lip. “What’s your name, blue eyes?”

The girl’s head tipped back to meet his gaze, her eyes glazing over dreamily. “A-Ashley. You’re JK. I had no idea—”

“Ashley,” he cut her off, taking the small bowl of ice-cream from her hands, “you came here to eat, or you came here to fuck?”

Pretty Girl Ashley licked her pouty red lips, and she seemed momentarily dazed. “Fuck.” She swallowed. “I’m here to fuck. You. Oh my freaking god…” She mumbled the latter so much lower than a whisper; he almost didn’t hear it.

Giving her a slant smile, he scooped up some ice-cream and spooned it in his mouth. “Guest bedroom’s the second door on the right down that hall. Go on. Don’t undress. Wanna peel you outta that fuckin’ dress myself.”

Ashley nodded, flashing him a coquettish smile as she tottered off.

Feeling a fuck of a lot better about this, Jahleel turned to Saskia.

She looked ill, her face pale, every single blue vein under her skin prominent.

Yep, the realness of this insane idea of hers was starting to sink in. But, hey, she proposed it. And it was only a minute ago that he’d grown comfortable with the idea.

“Where’d you find that fox?” he asked her casually, light, open. Screwing with her head.

Raking her fingers through her long blonde curls, she averted her eyes. Soon she shrugged, patently shooting for insouciance as she brought her gaze back to him. “Fox? Really?”

To hide a smile, Jahleel spooned more ice-cream into his mouth. It was that Haagen Dazs flavor Saskia had hooked him on, Chocolate Peanut Butter. The taste dancing on his tongue reminded him of the things they’d done sexually together with said ice-cream.

He struggled not to stare at her. Because he really, really wanted to fuck her. Over and over again until the sun came up. Until God returned for his world. He would burn fucking her in hell. Yeah, he would love to die with his cock buried inside her.

Think about Ashley back there, dude. She’s hot as hell and waiting for you to fuck her brains out. Just do what you came here to do and get the fuck out. Rip Saskia’s heart clean out, walk the fuck away, and never think of her again.

When he didn’t respond to her crack, she spared, “From Manda’s kinky club.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, licking off the spoon. “So she’s a kinky one, huh?”

Saskia watched his lips on the spoon before she shook her head and frustratingly requested, “Could you stop doing that, please?”

“Stop doing what?”

“That.” She motioned to the spoon. “Your tongue…the spoon…the ice-ream…Just…stop. Please.”

Jahleel had to wrestle down a laugh. Because he wasn’t even teasing her. He was honest-to-God just enjoying some good ole Haagen Dazs, and she was getting heatedly frustrated.

“Her records. Lemme see them,” he said, ignoring her request and scooping more ice-cream in.

As Saskia walked by him, she firmly, effectively, grabbed the bowl from his hand without even breaking stride, and he couldn’t help his laugh then.

His Saskia. His badass Saskia.

A minute later she returned with some documents.

“This is her medical records. This is the confidentiality agreement I made her sign. And this is her bio. As you can see, she’s practicing to be a registered nurse, and comes from a well-off family. So I didn’t just bring you a prostitute.”

“Hear ya,” he mumbled as he perused the documents.

Pleased with what he saw, he thrust the papers back to her and headed off in Ashley’s direction. But Saskia seized his arm to stop him, dumping the docs on a nearby side-table.

“What?” he snapped at her, sharply yanking his arm from her touch.

Her touch, he couldn’t…not right now. He wanted her too bad. And if he allowed her to touch him, that would be it. He would lose.

He did not want her touching him. Her touch was weakening, heart-breaking, soul-taking, overpowering, overwhelming, underwhelming, made him muddleheaded, made him blind, made him foolish, incapable of sensible thoughts. Her touch was good, her touch was bad, made him happy, made him want to cry. Made him love her more and hate her less. Made him give in, made him helpless.

Her touch wasn’t a touch. Her touch was life.

With a dejected sigh, Saskia dropped her hand. “Sorry. Um, I’m not trying to give you any rules or anything, yeah? I’m just asking you a favor. Please.”

Damn right she wasn’t issuing any rules, ‘cause he would just walk right out. Take Ashley with him, too. Ha, nice asshole idea. Why didn’t he just do that?

Because love would never allow him to, that’s why. He was stuck in love with her.

“What favor?”

Stuffing her hands in her back pockets, she glanced down at her feet, chomped on her lips for a few seconds, then glanced back up at him with pain in her depths. “Don’t let her kiss you. It’s too intimate. I just…I can’t even stomach the thought of it.”

Was she even fucking serious right now? After all he had to watch her do on video? And wasn’t the whole point of doing this fuckery to hurt her as much as he could?

He should have pointed all that shit out to her, but instead, he nodded and agreed, “Sure. Don’t let her kiss me. Got it.”

He wasn’t a pussy. Really, he wasn’t.

Saskia followed him down the hall, but when he walked into the guest bedroom, she stopped outside the door instead of following him in.

Jahleel turned to face her. “You gettin’ in or what?”

Her gaze slid past him and into the bedroom, then back to him. “I was thinking…”—she shuffled in a thick air of nerves—”maybe I could just, um, stay outside the door instead of coming in to watch, you know. Maybe I could just listen instead?”

Fuck no.

Reaching out to take her by her arm, he pulled her into the room and led her over to an armchair facing the bed, forcing her to sit in it. “You asked for this. So you’re gonna sit, you’re gonna stay, and you’re gonna watch. All of it. Like I had to watch you. Watch me enjoy this, Sassy. Because I am gonna enjoy it. You know why?” He didn’t want an answer. “Because I’m very attracted to that Ashley chick. Very.”

Jahleel had to turn away from those wide gray eyes, afraid she would be able to see right through his facade. What she didn’t know was, if she said and did the right thing in this moment, if she stood up, fought and demanded he take her back, if she even breathed on his skin…she could have him wrapped around her finger in a flash.

But Saskia was an assumer. She didn’t know how to fight. She only knew how to assume and settle. Therefore, she would never know just how weak he was to her. She would never know she had the power to end this, right here, right now, with just the right words.

She would never know.

Ashley came modeling out of the bathroom in red lingerie with stockings and garter, and black fuck-me-deep-and-hard heels. Stopping at the foot of the bed, she held on to one of the posts and flipped her hair to the side in a whirl of sex and come-fuck-me-ness, like a model would on an erotic photo shoot. The girl was all that; he wouldn’t lie. She was the kind of girl men used as their screen saver.

“Thought I called dibs on peeling your dress off,” he said, smooth and low, as he moved toward her.

Ashley trailed her finger down her cleavage and along the edges of her lingerie bra as she shamelessly eye-fucked him. “I figured you’d have more fun peeling this off….”

And as if she couldn’t wait a second longer, she rushed up him faster than he could think and looped her arms around his neck, tipping up to kiss him.

But Jahleel was swift in dodging her lips, and he wagged a finger at her. “Nuh uh. You’re not allowed to kiss me.”

Ashley drew back a little, her lips protruding in a pout, her brows meeting together in displeasure. “Well, that sucks.”

Smirking, Jahleel slid his hand around to cup the back of her neck, yanked her up against him, and crushed his mouth down on hers.

Ashley moaned in his mouth at the attack.

At the gasping sound of protest from the left, Jahleel broke the god-awful kiss and glanced over at Saskia. With an amalgam of emotions on her face, she looked as if she were about to hurl.

“What? You said not to let her kiss me.” A sharp stab of pain settled in his chest at the expression on her face, but he tried to ignore it. Forcing an insensitive grin and a wink, he said, “Look closely this time and you’ll see. I’m kissing her, not the other way around.”

Chapter Thirteen

Saskia…

I fucked myself.

This was the stupidest idea in the history of ideas. Real, sane people didn’t fix their broken relationships like this.

What the bloody hell was I thinking? I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t.

Him. His hands all over her. His mouth on her. His groans. Her moans. Right there in front of me. Live. Bloody Live!

My heart twisted and turned in my chest, fighting to get out. The pain was too much. I just wanted to die. To bleed out and die.

But he wouldn’t let me die. To get him back, I thought I could’ve done anything and to hell with the consequences. But how wrong was I?

The minute he’d stepped into the house and started flirting with that girl, I realized my mistake.

Ashley was ten out of ten sexy, no doubt about it.

When I’d fingered her out at the club, Amanda asked if I’d fallen and hit my head somewhere hard. She’d pointed out that choosing the hottest, most desired member in the freak club would help lose the man, not keep him.

However, I’d figured if I chose someone less attractive, Jahleel would’ve seen right through my game. So, I chose Ashley. And now I regret it.

Ashley was perfect both in looks and on paper. And her those “perfect” hands were all over my man.

Truth be told, I was hoping Jahleel would act like the arsehole that he was and piss this girl off so much that she would just leave in a fit of pique. Then this would all be one cockup, he would appreciate my effort for trying and forgive me and take me back. Bam. Happily ever after.

But I always was delusional, wasn’t I?

Instead, it was the reverse. Not only was Ashley drooling all over him—as per her request, I’d kept the identity of who she’d be getting down and dirty with, so, of course, she was shocked when she saw it was Jahleel. Apparently she was a JK Babe, too—but Jahleel was too attracted to her and it was disheartening, to say the least.

What if he ended up enjoying her so much that he just fucks off with me and runs off with her?

Fucking fuck.

After an eternity of kissing and groping—which I was squirming through like a bloody earthworm—Jahleel drew back from Ashley and hauled his tee over his head.

Ashley emitted a tiny gasp at the sight of Jahleel’s bare chest. She couldn’t have been any more excited even if she was bouncing up and down and shouting “score!”

Plus at the moment, Ashley was no fan of mine, because I’d been flat-out bitchy to her from the get go. She only tolerated me because of Amanda, as she was one of Amanda’s on and off subs. I had no idea what kind of arrangement they had, but it was Amanda who’d convinced her to do this.

Ashley went both ways, but she preferred women more than men, which had given me ease in using her. But all that ease fled the moment I saw her reaction to Jahleel. It was like he was a different sex all to himself, and now she went three ways: Men, women, and Jahleel.

Walking around her, Jahleel went over to the surround station, and minute later, Dive In by Trey Songz bled through the speakers at a sweet, intimate volume.

I died a little.

My fingernails dug into the flesh of my palms as I fought to remain seated. Ashley looked over to me and smirked while Jahleel’s back was still turned, her chest heaving up and down as if Jahleel’s kiss had stolen all the breath from her lungs.

But I didn’t have it in me to be mean to her anymore, so she was winning. All my energy went into a struggle to keep down what I ate for dinner earlier. And all that went down so far was light kissing. How was I going to hold up when they…oh, God.

Don’t throw up, Kia. Don’t throw up. You can get through this.

With bravado, I straightened up a little in the armchair, unconsciously clearing my throat. At the sound, Jahleel turned around and raised a brow at me. No emotion, no nothing.

Squeezing out a smile, I waved a hand for him to proceed.

There was a suspicious gleam in his eyes as he studied me, but then he shrugged and walked back towards Ashley, who was all impatient to get her hands on him again.

Jahleel reeled her in to kiss her again, but something happened. Halfway to meeting Ashley’s lips, he stopped and glanced over at me. Our eyes locked.

I held my breath.

Jahleel made a small shake of his and aborted the kiss.

I released the breath.

Taking a seat at the edge of the bed instead, he urged Ashley down on her knees. The trollop was more than happy to oblige. And when Jahleel slightly nodded down at the bulge in his pants with a half-smile, she spared no time in getting to work on his belt buckle and zipper.

As she did this, Jahleel slowly turned his head to look over at me. And I couldn’t understand what the look on his face meant. Like he was expecting something from me. But what?

Balling my hand into a fist, I stuffed it into my mouth and shifted my eyes from him and focused on Ashley instead.

She got his cock out. He was hard. He was fucking hard for her. Someone who wasn’t me.

Oh, God.

This sucks, because if this was a romance novel, this is not how things would’ve played out. That’s why I like romance novels. If this was a romance novel, he would’ve not been attracted to her, her touch would’ve repulsed him, and he would’ve been visualizing me instead of her to get hard.

But such was my fucking luck. This was not romance. This was real life, and I had to deal with it, because it was my super genius idea to get the man I loved back.

Ashley fisted his dick and stroked her hand up and down, slowly, like a pro-slut. And going by Jahleel’s sharp intake of breath, I’d say she had a degree in hand-jobs.

And to complement her hand-job, she gave him all kinds of hot-and-bothered flirtatious, I-can’t-wait-to-get-your-cock-inside-me looks.

While Jahleel just watched her and smiled.

Yes, smiled.

Then Ashley dove down, sucking his cock into her mouth. A cock that was supposed to be for me and me alone. My cock. Except now I was holding on to that “my cock only” title by a thin thread. Well, considering his cock was in another woman’s mouth, that title was null and void.

Thankfully, Jahleel gave no reaction…yet. Maybe she wasn’t as good as I thought.

But when his fingers slid into her hair and curled as he let out a long, shuddering breath, tears sprung to my eyes so fast, it’s as if I was punched in the nose.

I wanted it to stop.

I wanted it to stop.

But instead of shouting “stop,” I bit my lip and tried to fight back the tears.

What I was feeling was far beyond describable. It’s like when you get extremely bad news, and on instant, you want to run to the bathroom to do more than throw up. You feel like there’s no ground beneath you and you’re standing on air, your blood rushing loud in your ears, the edges of your vision darkening. And your body feels so far, far away from the world.

A horrible feeling. Horrible.

Ashley’s head moved up and down, evoking quiet moans from Jahleel.

A lone tear crept down my cheek, and Jahleel turned his head to look over at me right then. As if he felt the tear.

Something resembling pain flashed across his face, and for a second, he seemed hesitant, his mouth opening as if to say something to me. But then the moment past, and he closed his eyes, shook his head once, then reopened them and fixed his attention on Ashley. He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger and began whispering words to her, spurring her on.

“You’re fuckin’ pretty, you know that?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Like that.”

“Do that again, sweet girl.”

“You got the sexiest fuckin’ lips.”

“Yeah, Ashley, you’re all that.”

By this time, big, fat tears were escaping. Jahleel didn’t speak like that during sex. He was serious about fucking, and being constantly vocal wasn’t his thing. So either this girl was good enough to suck him to a place he’d never been before, or he was doing it on purpose to hurt me more.

This was painful. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch anymore.

But I also couldn’t leave. So I pulled up my feet into the arm chair, drew my knees to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them. Squeezing my eyes shut, I buried my face between my knees.

He could force me to stay in the room, but he couldn’t force me to keep my eyes open and watch. Even though hearing was just as awful as watching.

Abruptly, I heard a, “Get out.”

“What?” Ashley’s voice asked, stricken with disbelief and disappointment.

This had me opening my eyes to see Jahleel zipping up his jeans, his stare locked on me, pain and contrition swirling in his golden debts.

“Get the fuck out,” he reiterated to Ashley. “We’re done here. Tell Thomas to take you home.”

“But—”

“Ashley, girl, you’ve been on my good side all night,” he said impatiently. “My bad side, you don’t wanna be on it. Trust me. Just go. “

My heart propped up in a hopeful pose, even as the tears deluged.

Ashley huffed, shot me an I-so-fucking-hate-you glare, then stormed out of the room.

Jahleel moved to close the door behind her, then he disappeared into the bathroom.

Tap water running.

Mouthwash gurgling.

Timberlands against the floor tiles.

His half-dressed body emerged from the bathroom and took quick, long strides over to me. Pulling my arms from around my knees, he scooped me up from the armchair and headed for the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t, Sassy. I can’t watch you hurt. I can’t hurt you. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

And that’s when I really started crying. Fat, ugly, River Nile tears. Whimpering and hiccups.

Jahleel lowered me down on the bed and went straight to unzipping my jeans, hauling them off along with my knickers, all the while repeating, “I’m sorry” over and over. While I ugly-cried harder with each apology.

Loudly.

Parting my legs, he peppered my inner thighs with hot kisses, dropping an apology between each one.

Then he was licking me, sucking me, eating me.

And as fucking amazing as his mouth felt on me, it didn’t quell the tears.

I couldn’t stop crying.

I cried even as the familiar tingle shot up the back of my knees. I cried even as my legs began to tremble. I cried even as my fingers curled tightly into his hair. As my body stiffened. As my hips shot up off the bed in an electrifying jolt. As my orgasm ripped me apart. I cried through it all.

I bawled and I wailed and I whimpered.

Jahleel crawled up on top of me, his face twisted in agony as though he was going to die from my pain. “Please stop crying, Sassy. I love you. I do. I never stopped. I forgive you. I’ll take you back. I’ll marry you. I’ll knock you up. Just…stop crying. It hurts so bad to see you hurt. It fuckin’ hurts. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

But I couldn’t. Not that I didn’t want to, but the tears were coming of their own accord. I couldn’t control them. When I tried to stop, I would hiccup, then start all over again. It was three months and two weeks’ worth of tears. So I had to let them run.

They were good tears. Bad tears. Apologetic tears.

Good, because I was getting my fiancé back. Bad, for all I had to witness. And apologetic, for disappointing him, almost ruining everything we had.

Helpless to stop my tears, Jahleel dropped his face in the crook of my neck and waited with me, assuring me he loved me. My body rattled with sobs beneath him.

We waited.

Waited for all the bad and the ugly to seep out, and for love to prevail.

Eventually, the sobs ceased.

I breathed evenly into the crook of his neck as he breathed into mine, our limbs relaxed, our hearts beating in unison.

Miguel’s Adorn poured out in smooth waves through the surround speakers, floating around us, calming us.

When my body started going numb because of Jahleel’s weight, I reluctantly pushed at his chest. “Roll over. You’re crushing me.”

With an audible sigh, he moved onto his side, but drew me up to him so we were facing each other. “You hate me?”

Guilt-stricken, I shifted my gaze from his. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that I was the one who messed up yet he was the one suffering compunction.

When there came no response, he released me and rolled onto his back, then scrubbed his hands down his face. “You can’t even look at me…I’m so sorry.”

This wasn’t right.

I moved, draping my upper half over his hard chest. Finding his golden gaze, I whispered hoarsely, “No. No, JK. I fucked up. Not you. You’re the one who got hurt. You did nothing but love me and keep your promises. I’m sorry, JK.”

With a downhearted expression, he watched me, his brows drawn low. “Back in that hotel room, I was rough and mean to you…” His warm hand cupped one side of my face. “I apologize for all of it. For my anger. I hated hurting you, Saskia. ‘Cause when you hurt, I hurt. I can’t help it. We’re too connected. I’m too in love with you. I feel what you feel.”

I smiled, though it was sad. “I believe you.”

“Not gonna lie and say I’m over the shit that went down, Sassy. That’ll take some time. Those images are gonna be in my head for a long time, maybe forever.”

At that, I released a long, soul-twisting breath. What had I done to us?

Jahleel continued before I could start crying again. “But every relationship has their flaws. This is our flaw. This is something I’ll have to love you through. We won’t be the only couple on earth with a rift in our love. A lot of relationships seems perfect from the outside lookin’ in.

“But it’s a lie. No relationship is perfect. There’s always an ugly story swept under a rug of happy pictures and smiles. ‘Cause when you find the one, it’s just too fuckin’ hard to give them up, no matter the pain, no matter the shame, no matter the cost. So we have to patch up that fuckin’ rift, and love with a broken love. And it will challenge us to love harder, stronger, with more faith. Love fierce enough to overcast that rift, to make sure it never breaks open again.

“And I love you now more than I did before, Sassy. Because I’ve gotten a bitter taste of what life without you is like. It’s fuckin’ miserable. You are my light. You are my world. I’ve never truly smiled until you. Never truly laughed until you. Never truly lived until you. Never truly loved until you. And I don’t ever wanna lose you. I don’t wanna know the future without you in it. You are mine. Do you believe me?”

Tears were streaming half-way through. But happy tears this time. No mixture. Just tears of bliss. Because my life was back. My world was right again. Those golden eyes were glowing with love again. His touch was warm again. He was mine again.

“I believe you,” I whispered.

When he leaned up on his elbows to look down at me, his eyes were passive. Completely passive. He was so damn vulnerable right now, baring himself to me, hiding nothing, giving me everything.

He loved me. Unequivocally. It was all there. Unconcealed.

Jahleel Kingston loved me.

“Now’s the time, Sassy,” he said, ever so softly. “You agree?”

Momentarily thrown, it took me a minute to catch on. When understanding dawned, I grinned. Delirious with happiness.

Now.

Now was the time.

“Yes. I agree.”

The smile he gave me was so blinding, it was as if all his other smiles before now had been fake and this was his first real, genuine smile. “The gazebo? Yeah, I say the gazebo.”

“It doesn’t matter where, JK.” My voice was hoarse from crying so much, and my cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. “As long as you’re there.”

“Perfect.” He moved to get up from the bed. “Gonna call Dad.”

“Wait.” I gripped on to his bicep to stop him. “Can we do the last part first?”

“Fuck?”

My expression to that made him chuckle, then corrected, “Er, I mean, consummate?”

I rolled my eyes. “I prefer the term ‘make love.’”

Laughing, he got up, then leaned down and lifted me from the bed. He threw me over his shoulder and I let out a squeal at the suddenness of it. “‘Kay. But let’s do it in the shower. I have ugly tears and some pretty nurse girl named Ashley all over me.”

With a growl, I sank my fingernails into his skin and he yelped.

He was still an arsehole.

Chapter Fourteen

“Would you like to exchange vows?”

Mr. Kingston, though called upon at short notice, had arrived half-an-hour ago both with disapproval that we wanted to do this in secret, and with pleasure that he was the one called upon to bind us.

Jahleel and I sat cross-legged on a thick blanket in the gazebo outside, facing each other, hand in hand. While Mr. Kingston hovered above us.

While I was in pajamas, Jahleel was barefooted in a normal sweats and T-shirt. Raw, just as we were. No one but us—and the pastor, of course. Who was also Jahleel’s father.

The night was quiet. And the temperature was just right: not too chilly, not too warm. A full gray moon. Constellations out glistening. Not a single one hidden.

It was the perfect night. With the perfect man. The perfect union.

It was time to close the old book and start a sequel.

At the mention of vows, though, I winced. Because I had none prepared. Who knew we’d be getting married immediately after reconciling?

“Um…”

“Hurts that you got nothing to say to me right now,” Jahleel said with mock offense, peering at me under his lashes.

Letting go of his hand, I retrieved his ring from the throw-pillow between us, on which both our rings sat, then slid it onto his finger. “I’m no Shakespeare or Jane Austen. All I know is this: I love you. And if I lose you again, Jahleel Kingston, I swear to God I’ll die. My strength is all used up, so this ring means I’m leaning on you. You’re my fulcrum.

“I’m leaning on you to get through the bad times, the sad times, the sick times, the storms and the quakes. Because you are my everything, I’m leaning on you for everything. You were my dream, then you came true. I wished to be your girl, and it came true. Then I wished to be your wife someday…” I paused to flash him a grin. “Apparently someday is right this moment. Now, I’m squeezing in another wish: to live a hundred years and day with you. I love you, JK. You are my life. Where you end, I end.”

Jahleel smirked. “Wow. I’m the shit, aren’t I?”

I reached over and punched his arm. “We’re getting married, you sod. Can you not be a cocksure arse for two seconds?”

Above us, Mr. Kingston cleared his throat and I winced, murmuring an apology.

Still smiling, Jahleel took up my ring from the throw-pillow and slid it onto my finger.

“Sometimes people fall in love, and in the beginning, every little thing is cute and adorable. They laugh at each other’s jokes, and they crave to be around each other 24/7. But soon, things change, all that goes in reverse, then they fall out of love.

“For us, I pray that never happens. My Always: I want to stay in love with you, always. I want to find the things you do cute and adorable, always. I want to laugh at your farts and compete with your belches, always. I want to tease you about your snores and your untidiness, always. I want to laugh at your shitty jokes and get turned on by your accent, always. I want to crave you always.”

On a pause, he made a deep exhalation as his gold eyes glazed over. “My Promises: I promise to rub your feet when they hurt. I promise to pick up the slack when you’re beat. I promise to be more punctual and never leave you waiting….or hanging. I promise to be honest in all things and tell you the truth even when it hurts. I promise to be a pillow for you to cry on, and a shoulder for you to lean on. I promise to be your nurse when you’re sick, and strong when you’re weak. I promise to never, ever hurt you again, physically, verbally or emotionally.

“In tough times, I promise to stick with you, stay with you, fight for you. I promise to keep my promises. Before GOD, I make all these promises, Sassy. So please mark the sacredness of this moment. I never believed in Him because I never thought He cared. But then I started prayin’ for five things repeatedly: Love, contentment, peace of mind, humility, and light. And He gave me one thing in return”—a weak tear dropped from a single eyelash, so near imperceptible I would’ve missed it if I wasn’t staring so deep into his eyes—”you. I love you, Sassy. Thank you for sayin’ yes, to this. To us. Don’t ever leave me. Because, ‘You are my life. Where you end, I end.’”

We stared at each other for a whole minute after he finished, because I was lost for words. Blown out of this world that I, me, Saskia Day, had managed to get the mighty Jahleel Kingston so undone. He shed a tear for me. His words… His promises…

That made me shed a tear of my own. Two, actually. Or three.

Okay, I was flat-out crying.

Mr. Kingston cleared his throat again and we both glanced up. I’d forgotten all about the man’s presence.

Eyes identical to Jahleel’s glossed over under the warm glow of the gazebo light as he said, “By the power given to me, I hereby pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Kingston.”

Before we could even kiss to seal the deal, Mr. Kingston walked out of the gazebo, but stopped when he reached the bottom of the steps to look back at Jahleel. An honorable smile tipped up his lips when he said, “I’m so proud of you, son. Your mother was upset she wasn’t allowed to come. But I guarantee she’s going to sniffle all night when I repeat your vows to her.” Then that blessed golden gaze shifted to me. “Take care of my boy, Mrs. Kingston. I concur, you are his light.”

With that, he turned and left.

Swiveling my attention back to Jahleel, I panicked, “We seriously need to start planning some kind of reception or something, because once our people—ahem, Lion—find out we got married in secret, it’s…off with their heads!”

Jahleel barked out a laugh at me, tumbling back on the comforter. The sound so soothing to my ears. Taking my hands, he yanked me down with him. “Breathe easy, wife. We can tackle that tomorrow. Or the day after…or the day after that. For now, let’s just be.”

Inhaling a lungful of felicity, I snuggled up against him and did as he decreed. Be.

Because, why not?

After almost seven years of obsession, stalking, heartache, and pain, I finally had him.

For real this time. As in legally, bindingly. That forever kind of way.

I had him.

I had Jahleel Kingston.

And I was bloody well keeping him.

For life.

The End.

We have no fucking end.

Acknowledgements

THANK YOU:

To all the avid readers who took a chance on Jahleel, loved it, left a review, and recommended it their friends.

I love you all something fierce.

One Love!

About the Author

S. Ann Cole is a passionate writer and reader, and a lover of anything that distracts her from the real world. Reader first and second a writer, S. Ann Cole is an exaggerator, a laugher, sometimes overly chatty, sometimes overly shy. She believes cats are evil, and also detests dogs with a bitter passion—mainly because she’d been bitten over a dozen times on separate occasions by the rambunctious creatures in her formative years (even by her own dogs).

Ann is not your typical girl: she hates chocolate, candle-lit dinners and all that hearts and flowers stuff makes her feel awkward, and coffee makes her drowsier than ever.

A lover of all things ‘romance’, Ann has always been a writer of poetries and songs of any kind. All who’s acquainted with Ann can attest to witnessing her write her way through life: through destruction, devastation, hardship, sadness and disappointments, her coping mechanism has always been writing.

Having an obsessive and unquenchable affair with the written word, she’s naturally a recluse who dwells inside her imagination and has to suffer continual bashings from her friends for being a neglectful pal who does nothing but sit around the computer all day, writing.

When she’s not abusing her computer keyboard, you can find her nosing a novel, watching anything on television that makes her laugh out loud, studying the Bible, or nursing any of the three alcoholic beverages: Black Label and Coke, Heineken, or a glass of Merlot.

Visit www.AnnCole.net for more information on S. Ann Cole’s books and upcoming releases.

Contact Ann

Twitter @AnnColeRomance
or
Website www.AnnCole.net

or

Goodreads www.goodreads.com/author/show/7010006.S_Ann_Cole

or

Facebook www.facebook.com/S.AnnColeRomance

or

Email: ann@anncole.net

S. Ann's Bookshelf

Mr. Mysterious in Black

The Mysterious Man in Black could always be seen sitting by himself in his rented booth of the club that Sadie Francé begrudgingly worked to make a living. The peculiar man wasn't someone Sadie wanted to become acquainted with, because, as irresistibly handsome as he was, he was also eerie.

So when he persistently continued to request a dance with her, she determinedly continued to shoot him down.

On her last night, however, she caved.

One strange conversation was all it took for Sadie to get sucked into the complexity of the sinfully hot, but unnerving, man in black.

He sure as hell wasn't like any other man she'd ever come across. The man was simply...odd. Sadie could never understand him, his parabolic statements, his weird and inconsistent behaviors, or his weaving emotions.

Still, Sadie found herself drawn to him, wanting him with a burning need. Why was she so attracted to him? Why was it so hard for her to resist him? Why was it so hard for her to stay away? Why did he seem so familiar?

As he barged into her life, so did the frequency of inexplicable migraine attacks. When Sadie began having strange dreams, dreams that were her forbidden memories, memories that doctors told her were irretrievable, the mystery behind the man in black slowly, but surely, began to unravel.

And it was painful.

Love Has A Name

A battle for control between two dominant souls. Who will submit?

Being the daughter of Vince Blacksille, proprietor of a multi-billion dollar armament company, Axia Blacksille is rich by default and holds control over everything and everyone around her.

She’s her own woman, who has her own money, her own business, and stars her own show. She does whatever she wants, whenever she wants, however she wants, because her life is hers and no one else’s.

Control is hers. And, as she was taught by her famous, but dark, ex-boyfriend, she never, ever submits.

Until… Nah, there’s no ‘until’… is there?

When Axia inadvertently comes eye to eye with the illegally-handsome, cocky, womanizing, Internet billionaire Lovello Nelson, she doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Because if there’s one thing she hates, it’s pretty boys. Well, that’s her excuse…

But the slate-gray eyed billionaire, who has Love as a name, is determined to get the stubborn, dark-haired gym owner beneath him and under control. To some extent, he succeeds, of course. The guy isn’t labeled a ‘genius’ for nothing.

However, at the velocity which Axia and Lovello’s relationship takes off, there can only be one outcome: A heart-wrenching, yet beautiful, disaster.

For a relationship to work, there either has to be a unilateral submission, or a bilateral compromise. Which will Axia and Lovello choose to save their catastrophic relationship?

I Choose You

Trevillo Nelson is a different kind of billionaire. He wears that sharp business suit, but it sure as hell doesn’t fit. He does things on his own terms and lives by his own rules.

A man of singular tastes, this thirty-two year old, oversexed demon doesn’t do young chicks.

Are you single, free and disengaged? Sorry, he’s not into you.

Are you off the market? Well, he’s most certainly attracted. And best believe he’ll seduce your underwear right down to your ankles, leaving you no choice but to give in.

That’s how the real estate mogul has always lived his life—backwards. But things take a radical turn, both for better and for worse, when twenty-five year old interior designer, Krissan Kingston, walks into his office…

Precious savior, it’s Angel versus Demon.

Krissan Kingston is carefree, selfish, and unconcerned with the complexities of life. She lives each day as it is given, uses men for her own sexual pleasures, and then discards them without a second thought. She believes life and people are overrated, so she strides through life with a shrug and a “whatever”.

Right out of the blue on a normal workday, Krissan Kingston gets summoned to her elusive boss’s office.

She enters…
…takes one look at the intimidating man with searing, azure blue eyes and sees only one thing:

Danger.

But instead of running in the opposite direction, she runs straight to him, crashing, colliding, exploding, not knowing who’s more hazardous to whom: Him to her, or her to him?

When temptations arise and they are both tested, they both fail. And before they can even begin to forgive each other, to work it out, those mistakes erupt in their faces, throwing both their lives to the threat of death.

Will either of them be able to crawl out of their tumultuous relationship unscathed? Alive, even? Will they be able to look past all their ugliness and make it work somehow?

This is Trevillo and Krissan’s story. The final book of the Billionaire Brothers series.

Jahleel

I’m an idiot.
I’m too stupid to be human. Too stupid to live.
I lack common sense.

I used to be a normal human being. Until the guy in the red hoodie. Just a glance, and I was owned. Enslaved.

What’s worst? He didn’t even notice me.

Yep. You guessed right: I’m delusional. I’m obsessed. I’m a stalker. A martyr. A masochist.

I’ve allowed my obsession to lead me down into a deep, dark pit, selfishly hurting everyone around me, and only his requited love can pull me out of it.

But I won’t apologize for it. I won’t apologize for being in love with Jahleel Kingston. I’ve loved him at first sight. I’ve loved him for five empty years. I’ve loved him through all his bullcrap and asshole-isms.

I love him even now.

My name is Saskia Day. I’m British. I’m famous. I’m stinking rich. And this is my pathetic story.

Read at your own bloody risk.

E-Book Design & Format

Ebook conversion by E-BookBuilders.com

the digital division of BookConnectionOnline.com

Verified ePUBcheck