Be My Forever: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 2)

by Nia Arthurs

  I set my phone down and turn my attention to writing a report on my most recent client.

  I’m a grown woman dammit!

  I can vanquish the Boogeymen—real or imagined—on my own.

  Seven

  Troy

  The dial tone blasts in my ears.

  I stare at the phone with a frown. “Did she just hang up on me?”

  The screen goes blank.

  Silence rings loud and accusing.

  I set my cell down and glare at the easel. It’s empty. I took the canvas with Venus’s image and locked it away with all the others.

  I probably shouldn’t keep it.

  Probably shouldn’t keep any of them.

  They’re evidence of my obsession. Would be better to burn it. A ritual cleansing. An exorcism, if you will. Something to get Venus’s haunting beauty out of my head.

  But I just can’t bring myself to do it.

  Not in the mood to paint, I grab my tablet and it’s accompanying pencil, hoping to do some work for my graphic design business.

  As I put the tip of the pencil to the screen, my thoughts veer to my phone call with Venus. I can’t shake this uneasy feeling in my chest.

  Her voice during that call—

  The way her breath had thickened—

  It’s probably nothing.

  I ease back into the sofa and smear an azure blue shade across the white digital square.

  I’m sure I don’t have to worry.

  Everything’s fine.

  It’s not my concern if it isn’t.

  Yet somehow, I find myself heading to my room for a rumpled pair of jeans.

  Then I’m grabbing my keys and wallet.

  After that, I’m heading to my attached garage.

  This is stupid, I think as I jump into the car.

  You’re overreacting, is what flies through my mind when I pull up in front of Venus’s apartment twenty minutes later.

  She’ll tell you to mind your own business.

  A valid point.

  And an instruction she used to yell at me a lot—peppered with her own brand of creative curses—back when I’d out her for sneaking off to parties at one in the morning.

  Don’t, Troy.

  I push my car door open.

  Turn back.

  I take the stairs.

  The next thing I know, I’m standing in front of Venus’s door.

  Half of me has no idea what I’m doing, and the other half…

  The lower half.

  It’s insistent on seeing Venus.

  Not a good sign.

  When it comes to that woman, I try to ignore the lower half of me. Most of the time, it works. I’m not held ransom by the member in my pants. There’s such a thing as self-control, rational thought, and common sense.

  Still, Venus’s voice over the phone…

  Something’s wrong.

  I need to see her.

  Whether it’s the ‘I taught this girl to drive’ side or the ‘I want this woman in my bed’ side of me, I can’t ignore the pull.

  But I should.

  My fingers curl into fists.

  I poise my knuckles over the door.

  A little further…

  Damn.

  I yank my hand back. Shake my arm out at my sides.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Venus didn’t ask to see me. She doesn’t want me butting into her life. After eight years, I barely have a right to be in it.

  Leave now while she’s still clueless.

  I have no business playing with fire when there’s an easel in my bedroom filled with the outline of her gorgeous face.

  Lines. Boundaries. Freaking Great Wall of China. I need it now.

  My eyes glance up at the lights on the ceiling. One buzzes. Another flickers. They need to be replaced. The strange, greenish glow casts everything in an eerie sheen like the lighting for a horror movie.

  I pull my hoodie over my head. Tomorrow, I’m calling Venus’s building manager and launching an official complaint.

  If he doesn’t change the lights, I will.

  A door opens behind me.

  The sound creaks loudly in the nighttime silence.

  I take a step away from Venus’s door.

  “Hey, you!” A voice croaks. “I warned you. If I catch you lurking around again, I won’t let it slide.”

  I stop and look over my shoulder, an eyebrow arched.

  There’s a scrawny older woman with big brown eyes and rollers in her hair staring back at me. She’s got a plastic bag clutched in her claw-like hands and a fierce look on her face.

  “Ma’am?” I spin completely around.

  She leans back. Fidgets for the glasses strung on beads resting on her sagging chest. Once the glasses are balanced on the bridge of her nose, she studies me like she’s peering through a smeary telescope. “Oh.”

  I tilt my head.

  “Are you…” she looks me up and down, “a friend of Venus?”

  “More like family.” Sort of.

  “Is that so?” She hefts bony shoulders. “My bad.”

  “No need to apologize.”

  “It’s these darn glasses. I took you for someone else.”

  “Who?” A boyfriend? My hands fist at my sides. “Has someone been hanging around Venus recently?” I try to keep my voice casual, but the neighbor’s got sharp ears.

  She shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  Her next look is pointed. Why should I trust you?

  I raise my hands. “I’m a friend.”

  “You said you were family.”

  “Family friend.”

  “Got a picture?” Her voice is raspy, like she smokes a couple packs before breakfast.

  “Of us?” I fiddle around for my phone.

  She waves a hand. Forget it. The glasses chain rattles against her pointed cheekbones as she waddles toward me. “It’s about time I let someone know.”

  My heart thuds. “Know… what?”

  “Twice this week, I came out to toss my trash and saw someone staring at her door”—she points to Venus’s apartment—“without moving.”

  Something eerie creeps up my skin. “They were just staring?”

  “Yeah. Like they wanted to go in but didn’t have the guts.”

  “Did they know you were watching?”

  “Not the first time, but the second…” She nods.

  “That’s when you warned them not to come again?”

  “Because it was creepy. Last thing I need to see late at night is someone acting weird in this damn hallway.” She shakes her head. “Stupid lights keep flickering. Makes me feel like I’m in one of those Friday the 13th movies.” She plants her hands on her hips. “And you know black folks are always the first to go in those movies.”

  I pin my lips together. “Did you get a look at the guy’s face?”

  “Unfortunately, I didn’t see a face.” She shrugs. “He was covered up from head to toe. Black hoodie. Baggy jeans. Motorcycle gloves.”

  “Motorcycle gloves?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  “And he was a good runner.”

  “Anything else?”

  She clears her throat. “That’s all I can remember.”

  “Have you told Venus?”

  “I said I would, but I forgot.” She stares sheepishly at the floor.

  Irritation seeps into my voice. “You forgot? What if—” someone’s after her. The thought sickens me. I finish lamely. “She should know.”

  “Thing is, we don’t really talk and I don’t want to get in her business if he’s some kind of suitor. You understand? I didn’t mean any harm.”

  I nod. It’s annoying, but I get it.

  “He’s not”—she rubs her hands together, leans closer—“I don’t have to be concerned, right? All he did was stare at the door and then leave. She’s not in any trouble, is she?”

  There’s no clear answer to that question, so I just nod
to her trash bags. “Would you like me to take those out for you? Spare you the trip?”

  “Would you? The dumpster’s in the alley on the right side of the building.” She shoves the bags over as if she’s been waiting for this offer all day. Fluttering her eyelashes, she sighs. “I’m sure Venus has nothing to worry about with such a handsome man by her side.”

  I force a smile and offer my business card. “Let me know if you see anything else.”

  “I will.” She waves.

  My fingers tighten over the bags.

  I press my lips together.

  My footsteps thump against the ground.

  Anger tightens my veins with every step.

  If some creep is targeting Venus…

  I head down the stairs and leave through the front door.

  He’s been staring at her door late at night.

  My feet thump against concrete.

  Whatever his intentions, it pisses me off.

  I turn the bend.

  Am I overreacting? It could be the neighbor is misunderstanding the situation. She admitted to not wearing her glasses and not seeing the guy clearly. It could be Evan for all we know.

  Don’t be ridiculous. What the hell would Evan be staring at her door for? He’d just go in.

  Good point.

  But the alternative makes me want to whisk Venus into a tower and lock her up.

  Not that she’d stay there long.

  If I know her, she’d find a way to escape.

  The woman would make a terrible prisoner.

  I notice the dumpsters shoved against the brick wall on the side of the building. The alley is cast in shadows. The streetlamp around the bend barely sheds any light here.

  I slide my hands beneath the lid and toss the trash. Just as I’m about to slam the lid closed, something glints in the darkness.

  I push the lid back before it closes and peer inside.

  There’s a knife on top of the trash.

  My breath thickens.

  Under the knife is a pair of brand new motorcycle gloves.

  Eight

  Venus

  Usually, I love going to work. Today, it’s a drain. The greetings of my co-workers fly way over my head. All my thoughts are churning around my neighbor’s words when she caught me before heading to work this morning.

  'Someone’s been staring at your apartment at night.’

  A shudder works its way up my spine.

  The note dances through my mind.

  Tell the truth and shame the devil. You have one week.

  The message is carved in my brain.

  No. I’m not doing this.

  Some random weirdo isn’t going to get the best of me.

  It’s a new day.

  The sun is shining.

  I can see all the shadows and they’re hiding nothing.

  Harmless.

  A joke.

  It’s time to earn my promotion and move on with my life.

  Emphasis on life.

  No axe murder is waiting in the wings.

  I’m not being stalked.

  It’s all just a misunderstanding.

  My phone brightens with a message.

  TROY: Where should we meet?

  “Crap. Troy!” I slap a palm to my forehead.

  After my neighbor’s unsettling revelation this morning, I completely forgot about him.

  Okay, that’s not exactly true.

  I can’t forget about Troy. It’s not humanly possible. But he did get buried beneath the panic for a while.

  ME: There’s a café next to my work.

  A knock jerks my head up.

  The door eases open and Kayla slides in.

  I sit straighter in my seat, stunned to see her. I’m usually the one who sneaks into her office and bothers her, not the other way around.

  Kayla nods hello. Motions to the chair.

  I gesture go ahead.

  She takes a seat and studies my face with her sharp brown eyes. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smirks.

  “What?” I peer at her. The sunlight dances over her brown skin. The woman is glowing. I’m instantly jealous. “Did something good happen?”

  “No, I’m just… happy.”

  I grin wickedly. “Because of Brendon and his big—”

  “Venus.” She slants me a look.

  I shrug. “I was going to say bank account.”

  Kayla rolls her eyes. “That is so not what you were about to say.”

  I force another smile. Try to make this one genuine.

  I can do this.

  I can act like the past twelve-hours never happened.

  No one’s been staring at my door.

  No one posted a weirdly worded note talking about truths and devils.

  I can make dumb jokes.

  Business as usual.

  “I bet Brendon would give me details if I asked.”

  “If he were that type of guy, I never would have fallen for him.”

  “True. He’s obnoxiously in love with you.”

  “I know.” She giggles.

  I smile along. For real this time.

  In this line of work, it’s easy to act like happily ever afters are a dime-a-dozen. But the truth is, falling in love is the easy part. Staying in love is what requires hard work—from both parties.

  It’s a relief to know that Kayla’s found someone willing to go the distance for her. It’s what she deserves.

  “So,” I lean back in my seat, “what brings you to my humble office?”

  “I came to give you this.” She pulls a folder from her purse.

  “What is it?”

  Kayla slaps it on my desk. “Files from the vault.” She arches an eyebrow. “Our top tier clients.”

  “You’re kidding.” My jaw slacks.

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Never.”

  “I figured you could use a leg up.”

  I glance at her face. “Love’s turned you into a total wuss.”

  “Should I take it back then?” She starts to pull the file across the desk.

  “No.” I scramble for it. “But I didn’t need your help. I’m already working on Troy.”

  “The famous painter. Nice. I looked him up yesterday. He’s hot.” Her skin turns red. “And I’m saying that as a purely platonic and uninterested observer.”

  “Hear hear.” I knock my fist on the desk.

  This is why I’m friends with Kayla.

  Woman has good taste.

  “Are you sure you can work with him though?”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s exactly your type.”

  My brows shoot high.

  She tilts her head. “You told me your dream guy was tall and strong with eyes that scream broken soul and paint on his fingers. Pretty much describes Troy, doesn’t it?”

  I snort. Try to play it off. “Because he’s a painter?”

  “Because he’s Troy. There’s something in his expression. Something that makes you want to give him a hug.”

  “He’s had a hard life,” I admit, thinking of his mother. As much as I enjoyed having Troy around growing up, I knew every time he was with my family instead of his own, things were bad.

  Troy only acted strong and unaffected.

  Inside, his heart broke every time Leena let him down.

  Which was often.

  And then she died and left him.

  Even if she wasn’t a good mother, she was all he had.

  It’s a wonder Troy turned out so decent given the crap he’s been through.

  “Hey.” Kayla raps her knuckles on the table.

  I jerk my head up.

  She stares me right in the eyes. As if she knows. As if she sees something I don’t. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “Of course.”

  “But—”

  “What?”

  Kayla winces. “Nothing.”

  “I know what you’re th
inking.” I toss my hair over my shoulder. “But it’s not a possibility. I do have some standards you know. I never sleep with clients. Ever.”

  Though a few have been interested.

  And I mostly flag those men as incompatible with the program.

  I draw the line at messing with men I’m supposed to match. Make It Marriage is my dream job. I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.

  Not even if the man on the other side of my desk is Troy.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m meeting Troy later.”

  Kayla returns to the couch. “Think it’ll be easy?”

  “To match him? Of course. I already have someone in mind. Someone from our regular files. Charisma Ellington. She’s a former ballerina.”

  “Not to match him. To convince him.” She smirks. “With looks like that, it’ll be easy to find a woman willing to patch up his broken heart. He’ll probably hit it off with any woman.”

  My stomach drops.

  My throat tightens.

  I have to watch Troy with other women. Which is fine.

  But watching him date and touch her? Having to listen as he tells me all about falling in love with someone else?

  Get yourself together, Venus.

  This is freaking happening.

  I’m the one who’s setting him up.

  I need to grow a pair. There’s no way I’ll get through this if I fall apart at the start.

  I clear my throat. “I’m pretty sure he’ll agree to whatever I say.“

  “Someone’s cocky.”

  “Trust me.” He’s the least of my problems.

  I bite down on my bottom lip as the yellow note shoves its way into my mind.

  Shame the devil…

  Kayla’s expression shifts. A wrinkle appears between her eyebrows. “You look worried. Is everything okay?”

  I drop my fingers to the desk.

  Tap.

  Should I tell her about the note and the fact that someone’s in love with my apartment door?

  Tap.

  But what can Kayla do? It’s not like she’s the police.

  Tap.

  Should I go to the police? What do I tell them? ‘Hi, someone left a vague and obscure note on my door and they stand in my hallway at night? I’m scared. Arrest everyone?’

  Not a very strong way to build a case.

  “It’s fine.” I shrug off my unease. “I’m just… eager to get to work.”