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

by Nia Arthurs

  I’m seething. Crackling with righteous anger.

  Did Fred Bateman hurt me? Did he touch me? Or did he just…

  Either way, I’m suffering.

  He’s the cause of that pain.

  I pace my bedroom.

  My door rattles.

  A loud bang shatters the air.

  It’s followed by a crackling splinter.

  They’re ramming their shoulders into the door.

  Trying to break it down.

  “Venus!” Evan calls. “Answer me so we know you’re alright.”

  I chew on my lip. Try to block them out.

  It’s all driving me crazy.

  All this noise.

  All this uncertainty.

  The phone keeps dialing.

  That stupid song keeps repeating.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Click.

  I freeze.

  There’s no voicemail message.

  I connected.

  Someone’s on the other end of the line.

  “Hello?”

  Soft breathing is the only reply.

  But that’s enough.

  “I know you’re listening.”

  “Venus!” Thud. Thud.

  I turn away. Glare a hole into the wall. “I remember. Hear me? I remember, you bastard.”

  The knob rattles violently.

  Another thud.

  “I know what you did.”

  Quiet laughter.

  It sounds heavy but feminine.

  I pull the phone away. Stare at it in shock.

  It’s a… girl.

  “Big mistake, Venus,” she taunts.

  “What? Who are—?”

  The line goes dead.

  My bedroom door bursts open. Evan and Troy stumble inside, both their eyes zipping to me and the chair I knocked over. Evan’s holding my door knob in his hands.

  Troy scrambles to my side first. “Are you okay?”

  I stare at him.

  My emotions swing from fury to helplessness.

  No.

  No I’m not.

  “Her name is Gloria Bateman,” Teale says, looking at us over a carton of freshly baked red velvet cupcakes.

  I can’t even appreciate the scrumptious desserts (courtesy of his hot and talented pastry chef wife, Zania). Instead, I nibble around the edges and then lean forward.

  “The person on the phone last night?”

  “Right.” Teale nods. If possible, he’s even more striking in person.

  “The newspapers I read mentioned her.” Troy leans back. Spreads his arm over my chair. Glances at me You okay?

  I return his look. Smile slightly.

  He raises an eyebrow tell me when it gets overwhelming.

  I nod.

  Turn away.

  Roll my eyes at Teale.

  Troy and my brother have gone into full over-protective mode—something I expected since the beginning—but the breathing-down-my-neck syndrome got extra intense after my call.

  Thank God Evan has to work.

  But Troy’s schedule is flexible.

  And he’s decided to spend all of his Saturday with me.

  I love his company, but it’s… overwhelming.

  Especially when I keep getting this unsettled feeling about Fred Bateman and that deadline in the note.

  It keeps jamming into my head.

  Turning me into a shell of myself.

  “Gloria stood by her husband through it all.” Teale frowns. “She didn’t believe the accounts and insisted that he was innocent. She’s been visiting him at the prison often. Three days ago, she bought a plane ticket to America.”

  “To see me?”

  “That’s my guess.” Teale hands me a file. “And this is the owner of the second number. Her name is Ina Gillet.” He pauses. Pushes out the word. “She was the victim.”

  My heart cinches.

  Tell the truth. Shame the devil.

  “It explains the note,” Troy mumbles. “And the teddy bear.”

  “She wants me to say something before Bateman gets out of prison.”

  “Has she tried contacting you outside of the notes and the one text message?”

  “No.” I shake my head. Open the file. Stare at the picture of a heavy-set girl with dark skin, short hair and guarded eyes.

  “These are the photos we found of her online.”

  Troy leans over and touches the one at the top. “That fits the description Ms. Shayla gave of the stalker.”

  I skim past one of Ina wearing a hoodie and motorcycle gloves.

  There’s a close up of her with dark eyeliner and a facemask.

  “She seems to be into the edgy look,” Troy observes.

  I nod. “It explains the motorcycle gloves you found in the trash can.”

  “But why the knife?”

  “And why hasn’t she come out and seen me in person yet?” I bury my head in my hands. “I need to talk to Mom. Find out what she knows. It feels like I’m missing something.”

  “I’ll keep you updated if we find anything more,” Teale says.

  We thank him and leave, waving at Zania behind the counter as we do so.

  The door jangles happily as it crashes closed.

  I squint at the sunshine, the blue sky, the fluffy clouds.

  The world looks way too happy and light for the darkness I’m battling through.

  “You okay?” Troy asks, taking my hand.

  “Tired.”

  “You didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  I wish I could say he was the one keeping me up, but I haven’t felt like touching anyone since realizing my dream was reality.

  And that scares me.

  I’ve slept around, but it never meant anything.

  Nothing outside of an itch to scratch.

  My heart was stone-cold.

  Waiting for one person.

  Troy.

  And now I can’t seem to find the part of me that was so desperate to be with him because it’s buried under all this crap.

  We walk to the car.

  Troy opens my door. “About your mom…”

  “What about it?”

  “Could we postpone that conversation for a day?”

  I mentally calculate. Tomorrow’s the last day of the deadline written in Ina’s note. The day before Bateman’s released from prison. “Why?”

  “I want to take you somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  I groan. “I hate surprises.”

  “Not my problem.” He grins. His eyes sparkle. Deep laugh lines frame his lips.

  Yum.

  Little by little, Gloria Bateman’s threat, Ina’s stalking and that confusing Did It Happen or Not puzzle of my past fade.

  Troy’s so damn handsome.

  And he’s finally here, holding my hand, asking me out on a surprise date.

  After so many years of pining and hoping and pretending I’m over him, Troy Maddox is mine.

  I can kiss him.

  Touch him.

  Run away with him at a moment’s notice on a Saturday afternoon.

  That’s been my dream.

  And now that’s a reality too.

  Even if it’s hard, I want to find a way past the storm to enjoy the sunshine. Just for a minute.

  “Okay.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m all yours.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Troy

  The top of my convertible stretches back into place with a quiet whirr. I shut the engine. Venus pulls the sun visor down and brushes through her hair with a horrified expression.

  “Troy, what did you do to my hair?”

  “You asked to put the top down.”

  “And you listened.” She gasps. Slender hands disappear into her coils. “My curls don’t do windblown.”

  “You look gorgeous.”

  She arches an eyebrow yeah right.

  I give her a slow once-over. Everything—from the messy hair to her w
arm brown skin to that sexy, white cotton dress with the big buttons down the front—calls to me.

  But that’s an unfair statement.

  No matter what she’s wearing, this woman drives me out of my mind.

  Venus is too busy fussing with her reflection to notice my thirsty perusal.

  Which is good.

  I planned this spur of the moment trip to distract her. We have a lot to juggle right now. It’s been non-stop drama smashed into a small time frame. Just for tonight, I want her to forget everything else. Give her a damn break.

  If her biggest problem is how her hair looks, then I’m on the right track.

  Venus slaps the visor back in place. “Where are we?” Her eyes catch on the boxy building with sleek lines and big glass windows. Mannequins stare with soulless eyes, plastic hands rasping sophisticated dresses.

  “Somewhere that specializes in evening wear and cocktail dresses.” I rest my elbow on the steering wheel. Smirk at her. “And you are going to pick one.”

  “Just one?”

  “As many as you want.” I chuckle.

  “I’m kidding. One is more than enough.” Her eyes light up. “Is this the surprise?”

  “Part of it.”

  “Let’s go.” She throws her door open and gallops to the front of the store.

  We’re greeted by the owner—a fan of mine. When I walk in, I spot two of my paintings placed meticulously on the walls.

  “Troy.” Avery Madeline glides toward me. Her paper-thin cheek touches mine in a swift air kiss. “And this must be the lovely Venus.” Avery greets her with another bout of air kisses and then gestures to the dressing room. “This way, please.”

  The room is brightly lit. There’s another one of my paintings, along with a door that I presume is the dressing room. Workers in stiff black dresses set tea on a table.

  Venus shoots me a look. I read it easily. How expensive is this place?

  I smile in response and settle back with one of the delicate teacups.

  Avery wastes no time. She tugs on Venus’s arm. “Come, dear. Let’s get you dolled up.”

  “Have fun,” I mouth.

  Venus grins, looking both confused and excited.

  I throw one leg over my knee and pull out my tablet. I came prepared to get some work in while I wait.

  A few minutes later, Avery slides into view. Winks. Gestures to the dressing room. “Dress Number One.”

  A moment later, Venus emerges wearing a burgundy dress. The top is some mix of mesh and lace that manages to look both dangerously sexy and sophisticated. The skirt fits her like a glove, showing off all her curves.

  My tablet slips from my hands when I see her.

  Like a fool, I scramble to catch it before it cracks on the tile.

  Avery giggles, her grey and black hair swishing. “I think this is a top contender.”

  Venus runs her hands down the seams. “I like it too. Troy?”

  I can’t speak so I just nod.

  Damn.

  Yes.

  Hell yes.

  But if she wears that, I won’t be able to drive.

  They head back inside and try on a few more outfits—all stunning, all well crafted and elegant—but the first one is the clear winner.

  “I almost want to put it back on,” Venus shares through the dressing room walls.

  “You need to.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s a surprise too.”

  She’s quiet. Probably wondering if she should press for more information. I’m glad when she decides to just roll with it.

  This next stop is one I think she’ll enjoy and I’m excited for her to see it.

  We leave Avery’s store with more air kisses and a couple bags filled with the other dresses that Venus loved.

  Back in the car, Venus touches her hair. I asked Avery to have a hair stylist familiar with black hair on hand to do an elegant style and the look came out great.

  She’s mouth-watering from head to toe.

  “Now I’m about to burst with curiosity.” Venus leans over the console and gives me puppy dog eyes.

  I force my gaze away. “Have some patience.”

  “No.” She pouts. “Tell me now. What’s the big surprise?”

  I flick my indicator. Merge into the freeway. Put on the headlamps. Night fell while we were at Avery’s and the city is alive with neon.

  “You’ll see.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I pull up to the Broadway theatre. The moment Venus spies the block letters on the billboard, she squeals. “No.”

  I drive up to the valet. “Yes.”

  She turns to me, eyes wide. “Troy…”

  “Pride and Prejudice the Musical.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Not a joke.”

  “You’re… I…” She’s speechless.

  It’s freaking adorable.

  “We’re right on time.” I wink. “You ready?”

  She hauls the door open.

  There’s a gust of wind.

  All I see is a pair of heels hitting her generous behind as Venus beats a fiery trail to the doors. I barely have time to toss my keys to the valet and get the ticket so I can hustle to catch up with her.

  The foyer is already filling up with other Pride and Prejudice fans, but they all turn and watch Venus as she strides by.

  Whispers flurry.

  Looks of admiration bounce from every corner of the room.

  I smirk proudly as I hold my hand to the small of her back and lead her up to our seats.

  Yes, I’m with the most beautiful woman in the room.

  And yes, she’s mine.

  We get into the theatre.

  Venus gasps, breathless from the sheer size of the room and the stage.

  “It’s spectacular,” she whispers.

  I nod, my heart full from just watching her.

  Her eyes are shining.

  Her smile is huge.

  I’d say my mission to distract Venus is a rousing success.

  “That was amazing. Seriously,” Venus gushes as we check in at the hotel near the theatre.

  “It was alright.”

  Her eyebrows scrunch. “I’m going to let that pass because you’re hot and you planned the perfect day for me.”

  I chuckle. Swipe the curl dangling over her cheek. “Was Mr. Darcy hotter than me?”

  “Are you kidding? The answer is a clear and resounding yes.”

  “Hm.”

  She slides her hand down my chest. “But you’re a close second.”

  “How do I beat the competition?”

  “Doubloons?” She plays with the button on my shirt. “A British accent?”

  I laugh.

  The woman at the front desk glances between us. “Two rooms?” she asks with clear disbelief. Bushy eyebrows hike. Eyes glimmer with meaning. “Sir?”

  I nod.

  She sighs like I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  Which, seeing Venus in that dress, is a reasonable conclusion.

  “Alright,” she mutters. Your loss.

  I accept the key cards with a firm smile.

  It’s none of her business, but her intentions are pure and so are mine.

  Tonight, I got Venus to smile and I also got her to eat—something she’s been avoiding the past few days.

  It bothered me how much her portion sizes were shrinking and Kayla tattled that she wasn’t leaving work for lunch either.

  After the show, we stopped by a pancake house and I made sure Venus ate every drop in her plate.

  Now, I’ll take her to her room and leave.

  No pressure.

  This weekend wasn’t about what I could get but what I could give her.

  And… hopefully, I got her to push all the ugliness away from her mind for a few hours.

  As we head to the elevator, I hold her hand and satisfy myself with that innocent touch.

  Venus makes no move to draw any closer.

  Unde
rstandable.

  According to my research, people who suffered abuse as a child often have trouble with intimacy. We still have no definitive proof that Venus was a victim of Fred Bateman, but it’s heavy on her mind right now. I’m sure she’s processing those feelings as if the abuse was a fact.

  I’m not going to push.

  I’ve been her friend for twenty-two years.

  I can give her as long as she needs.

  The elevator doors open.

  I walk Venus to her room. Hand her a card. “This is it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “My room”—I jut my chin to the door across from her—“is right over there. Call me if you need me.” I step forward. Plant my hands on her shoulders. Press a kiss to her forehead.

  Damn.

  Even that small touch.

  Her skin feels so soft.

  Her scent…

  That body…

  I force myself to pull back. “Goodnight.”

  One step is all I get before Venus whispers, “I need you.”

  I freeze.

  She leans against the door, watches me with a wicked smirk. Then she opens the door and slips inside, leaving it open.

  My heart thuds.

  I whirl around.

  Three steps.

  I’m inside.

  Venus closes the door firmly. Locks it. Sashays toward me. In the dimness, her eyes gleam like black marbles. “Did you really think I’d let you go?” I watch those lips—a come and get me red—stretch. “Troy.” She leans forward. “I don’t want to go slow anymore.”

  “You lose.”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  That’s all I need to hear.

  I’ve waited eight years. She’s teased me. Flitted out of reach. Drove me so crazy I’d need a strait jacket.

  I finally have Venus Miller right where I want her.

  I’m not letting her go tonight.

  Twenty-Eight

  Venus

  My fingers grip the white sheets tightly, twisting them into thick clumps. A throaty moan teeters past my lips and I pant, catching a mouthful of fabric as my face presses firmly into the bed.

  Troy’s fingers move from my hip and he flips me over, staring into my eyes. The connection is so strong, so… intimate. It’s more—way more—than anything I’ve felt in my entire life.

  Because it’s Troy.

  Because my heart is his and his is mine.

  He presses a wet, desperate kiss to my lips.

  Claiming my body.