by Xyla Turner
Always Wrong
Billionaire Romance Series
Xyla Turner
AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS
Contents
Also by Xyla Turner
Blurb
Note to the Reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Lucas: Across the Aisle
Mr. Vega - Prelude
Mr. Vega - Ch. 1
Mr. West - Ch. 1
About the Author
Also by Xyla Turner
XYLA’S CONTACT INFORMATION
Also by Xyla Turner
Billionaire Romance Series:
BOMBSHELL
Take A Knee
Always Right
Always Wrong
MISTER Series:
Mr. West
Mr. Vega
Across the Aisle Series:
Book 1: Trent
Book 2: Duncan
Book 3: Duncan’s Pride
Book 4: James
Stetson Series:
By Chance, No Choice: Stetson Series
Meet Me Halfway: Stetson Series
Love At All Costs: Stetson Series
Tony & Ida: Stetson Series
Leaving Fletch
Crayson
Me Too Movement:
Book 1: Carter
Book 2: Declan
Legion of Guardians Motorcycle Club Series:
Just Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (1 - eBook & Audio)
Let’s Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (2)
Just Right: Legion of Guardians MC (3)
Just Dream: Legion of Guardians MC (4)
Dream Ride: Legion of Guardians MC (5)
Lady Guardians Serial
Justice: National Chapter - Book 1
Cut: National Chapter - Book 2
Goldie: National Chapter - Book 3
Double XX Series:
The Chase: Part I & II
Line of Duty Series:
10:80: Line of Duty Series
10-99: Line of Duty Series
10-24: Line of Duty Series
Far Rockaway University Series:
Love Under Attack: FRU Series
The F Student
Bookstore Chronicles Series:
No Returns: Part I & II
Bookstore Chronicles III
Non-Series Book:
BOMBSHELL
Across the Tracks
Power of the Pen
Extraction
Cole [eBook & Audio]
Take A Knee
Warren
Always Right
Blurb
Sheryl: It was my best friend's wedding, and I was trying to pull my head out of my ass to one, be happy for her. Two, to explain how the fuck I got here. Three, to put on my big girl panties and deal with the shit I’d gotten myself in.
Jacquez: I fuck. Shit, I fuck a lot. Well, I had until that one night with Sheryl. The nerve of her, trying to treat me like a one-night stand and attempting to kick me out. Who the fuck did she think she was? Why couldn't I get her out of my head?
Note to the Reader
Always Wrong is book four in the Billionaire Romance Series. Always Right is book three, and it is highly recommended that you read books 2 & 3 before diving into this book.
Also, Jacquez is a South Bronx man that lives in London and he uses some British terminology that includes the following:
Bloody - very
Crikey - mild surprise
Shite - another term for shit
Muck or Mucking - another term for fuck or fucking
Mate - friend
Mum - Mom
Arse - ass
Happy Reading!
Chapter One
One night is what Jacquez asked for over the phone those months ago.
One gotdamn night.
He’d baited me.
“Ahh, I see. All talk, no play? Scared I’ll fuck that snark right out of you? Contact Noah when you’re ready for that. ‘Til then, bye, babe” were his parting words over the phone.
Me and my fucking mouth. Talking all types of shit and baiting this man, like I always do. But I take none of them seriously. Ever. I get it in, don’t get me wrong, but they are just fuck boys. Never anything serious. Do not ask me why Ja-fucking-quez was the one that kept ringing in my head as his slightly London accent was on repeat. He wasn’t from there, because he definitely had a mix of that New York, filthy accent on the edge of some of his syllables.
His words replayed in my head, over and over, so when I received the email correspondence, I immediately responded.
Dearest Sheryl,
Owner of two jets, talker of much shit. Give me a time and place. I’ll be in Philadelphia next week and just so you know, I’m not taking no for an answer. You tell me where we are meeting, or I find you.
I hope you can back up your shit. I know I can.
J
Oh, this motherfucker.
Immediately I replied.
Jacquez,
Owner of one jet. Shit talker of one mouth.
Wednesday, 7:00 PM at the W. I’ll be under the name South.
SS.
Yes, I just did that. Hell, I just made a date with the man that’s been running me ragged and only in my head. A yellow flag went up in the back of my consciousness. This was different. He did not fit my normal modus operandi. I had not seen him at a red-carpet event but yet, he wanted to know if my dark nipples would pucker for his lips or his teeth. Of course, me being the woman that I am, told him there was only one way to find out. He learned they puckered for his teeth and not those pillows he calls lips.
Long ago, I threw modesty out the window. These men walked around here fucking everything moving, and they always received some sort of badge. Not us women…we fuck three people in the same office, and we’re labeled a whore. I, personally, no longer gave a fuck what people called me. One day, I overheard some locker room shit, but the assholes were in the staff lounge. My staff lounge, to be exact.
“I heard South goes south,” one guy said.
“I heard she makes her men go south on her,” another chimed in.
“Both,” a different guy confirmed whose voice was deeper and slightly familiar.
“Holy fuck, man,” the first one chimed in, but I barely recognized his voice. “You’ve been with South?”
He must have nodded, because the bitch-ass men gasped, like this was something in an afterschool special.
“Fuck, is she as good as I’ve heard?” This was one of the other male voices.
“Let’s just say if I could get seconds, I would,” the man told them. “She doesn’t go back for seconds, but she can move her ass…”
Well, I’d had enough of eavesdropping, so I pushed the door open, eyed the men, and said in that classic black woman voice with the crack at each syllable. “I can also suck a mean dick. Now get back to fucking work.”
Man, I think if any of them would have stayed a minute longer, I would have seen a puddle of water because they pissed on themselves. Bugged-out eyes and shocked faces met me, but they all scrambled quicker than quick.
I recognized the guy I’d slept with, which I rarely did at the workplace, but I employed thousands of people. Almost five hundred at this downtown location for my shipping company, and as much as I don’t like to shit where I eat, it can be har
d when you’re the employer for so many people. Thinking back, we hooked up after a happy hour where he’d kept those eyes on my revealing cleavage. That was my signature; my philosophy was since I had those babies, I would show them off. It drove my colleagues crazy, but I also didn’t give a fuck about what anyone thought. All my dresses were V-neck, and all of my pants fit my ass. It was clearly evident that I did not ever wear panties.
I wore nothing but thongs, bitches!
Coming back to the situation that started it all. Setting up a time and place to meet with the Italian man, who lived in London but was from the Bronx. We had a date. Dinner was nothing new for me, but the butterflies flapping around inside of me had me a bit nervous. More than I ever was, to be honest. If I had known that meeting him that one day at the W hotel would produce my current situation at my best friend’s wedding and the years to come, I would have never met with his ass. I did not need or want this. I know that’s the wrong thing to say, but fuck me. This was not how I saw this going.
Maxine, my best friend, came up to me right before she was about to leave to go on her honeymoon with the much-deserving man, her newfound husband, Noah. She exuded joy and happiness. It simply adorned her. It was even in her stride, and I could not have been happier for her.
“Girl, please don’t say you’re pregnant,” I told my friend as she stopped in front of me. “You are absolutely glowing.”
“Me?” She laughed and held her neck with a delicate hand. “Nooo…we aren’t pregnant yet.”
Those eyebrows of her danced with excitement as she continued, “But I hope to be soon. Now what’s wrong with you?”
“Just life.” I shrugged but tried to change the subject. “What time are you guys heading out? Felix was excited to fly with you to your honeymoon. He said he needed a vacation too.”
Felix was my full-time pilot for one of my companies, Jet-ish, though each business entity had separate jets. Jet-ish was a rent-a-jet company, where we had four pilots who we rented to the rich and famous. My other company, Ship-ish, which required more of my attention, was a large business that dealt with imports, freights, and shipping.
“I still can’t believe you paid for our month-long honeymoon,” Maxine whispered. “Noah said he didn’t know if he should feel slighted or happy. Even Dad said, ‘Well, damn.’ Thanks, girl.”
“Well, Noah went ahead and bought his own jet, so I couldn’t give you that. Therefore, I had to give my best friend something. I am just so happy for you both. You deserve goodness. You’ve worked so hard, and now it’s time to reap.”
Those happy eyes turned down a notch when she moved closer to me and said, “You too, Sheryl. Jacquez has been eyeing you like he’s a hungry lion this whole night. What is going on? I thought you guys were good.”
My eyes leveled on my friend’s as I clarified to her, “We fucked. That was good and now that’s it.”
She looked over to her left and my right, then turned back and said, “Clearly that’s not it.”
Fuck.
Boy, if she knew. If this wasn’t her wedding, I would have told her. However, this was her day, and I wouldn’t ruin it with my stuff. Not today. Not with this shit with Jacques or the crazy shit my mother dropped on me a month ago. I have no idea why I even went to see her. The older she became, the more unstable and mean she grew.
“Girl, go on ahead and let me deal with Mr. Jacquez.” I tried to put a smile on my face. “Go make pretty babies with that man of yours and incoming. Here he comes.”
“Love,” Noah called as his hands wrapped around Maxine’s waist, and she turned to give him a long kiss. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, then Noah looked up at me and said, “Sheryl. Thank you again for Fiji. I am also to deliver a message to you. My mate said that you need to deal with him tonight or you will deal with him for the rest of the week.”
His mate being Jacquez; they were best friends like Maxine and me. My head whipped over to the man who I’d been avoiding most of the day, and I could feel my lips, covered in soft pink lipstick, twist in disgust. Fuck me, because then the man began to move toward me with that damn New York swagger. Just bad ass and I couldn’t stand it. He had that Cuomo (New York governor) swag about him. Like, I don’t give a fuck what you think. Noah and Maxine took that time to leave, but not before my friend gave me a quick kiss on the cheek with a knowing hum and Noah and Jacquez giving their manly handshake and hug.
It was those dark embers that turned my way, and the man growled, “Tonight it is, then.”
It wasn’t a question or a thought, but a certainty. We would have the conversation that night, and that was the end of it.
“Fine,” I snapped and turned to leave.
“The W,” he called behind me.
Fuck.
That was where it all began, and now we were going back to the scene of the crime. This is what got me in trouble in the first place.
Once the happy couple left the scene, so did we. The caterers, musicians, and venue were taken care of, meaning my maid of honor duties were over. After signaling my driver, he pulled up just as Jacquez’ vehicle pulled off. He made no small chat, just got in his car once the valet pulled it up front and drove off. The unspoken expectation was for me to get my ass to the W. Not tomorrow, not in an hour, but right fucking now.
I could be a bad ass, but since I’d been dodging his ass for the past two months, it was time to pay the piper. Jacquez was the damn piper.
Chapter Two
Jacquez Costa
Finally.
Fucking, finally.
Nobody understood how bad it was having a taste of her for one night and being plagued with trying to figure out how to get another. Not only was my life and business in London, I had major projects and collaborations that did not even allow me the time to focus on connecting with her. Besides my daily emails, calls and texts, I had no time to hop on my jet to surprise her. The wedding of my best mate was the perfect time. The only time, because the bombshell she’d dropped on me thirty days ago was one that I could not forget, nor would I. So I bided my time. We would get to the bottom of this.
Whether she wanted to or not.
Her driver dropped her off in front of the hotel as I stood in the main lobby.
Waiting.
Like I had been for the past few months. This was the time causing the energy coursing through my body kept me on edge. I had no idea if I looked as mad as I was, but she would know.
Silently, Sheryl followed me to the elevator, then to the suite that I had secured for us. We’d managed to ignore each other at rehearsal and at the dinner, but the wedding was the final straw. It was my last day in the States.
Once we were both over the threshold, I closed the door and stared at her. The woman scoffed, threw her purse on the loveseat, and strutted to the wet bar. Halfway there, she must have remembered and turned to sit on the couch.
“Let’s hash this out then,” Sheryl urged.
It was my turn to go to the wet bar and pour two fingers of whiskey. Then I joined her on the couch and took a swig.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.
“This is not the business that needs to be sorted.” She gave me a bored look.
“It’s very much the business, Sheryl,” I said with a barely tamed, but deliberate pace, because this routine was asinine. “Now indulge me.”
“There was nothing to discuss.” She looked me in my eyes as if she had nothing to be sorry about.
“The fact that you and I conceived a child in that very room”—I punched my fingers towards the bedroom—“then you slunk your ass out in the middle of the night and did not contact me until a month later, sharing that you were pregnant and then ignored me before and after the pregnancy alert. If you don’t think that is something to discuss, you are clearly mistaken.”
She stared at me but said nothing, so I moved closer toward her and said, “Do you want to talk before or after we fuck
?”
“Excuse me?” she gasped as if she were shocked, but those eyes bore all truths. “I don’t do seconds.”
She was about to shift in her seat, but I was already in her vicinity as I hovered over her with my arms on the back of the couch next to her shoulders. Sheryl's head looked up with her mouth slightly open, and that was when I took advantage and went in for the kiss. The woman didn’t fight me. No, instead she pushed her talons through my hair to pull me closer.
Fuck, this is why she never left my mind. The woman was wild. She owned every aspect of who she was, what she wanted, and what she could do. I loved that. No, I craved it.
The women that I’ve fucked wanted me to make them feel better about who they were. Wanted me to be some sort of hero. Wanted me to fix it. Whatever it was. I was needed to fix it, and it called to the alpha in me to rise up. But fuck, to deal with a woman who didn’t need me for shit. Even if it was my dick. Sheryl South did not need a man, me or anyone, for that matter. Which meant if she chose to spend her time with you, it was because she wanted to. It was not out of need. If she allowed me to kiss her and kissed the fuck out of me back, it was because that is what she wanted, and that shit made me feel good. It also made me wild.