by Naima Simone
“Fine. God, you’re worse than a kid,” I mutter, teasing him. Grinning, but with nerves twisting in my belly like a nest of writhing snakes, I click on the link included in the email from Grace M. Rowland, the employment law attorney my real estate lawyer referred me to. Or Grace the Mace, as Jude calls her—behind her back. Because that woman is scary. And like I asked for, the best.
Sitting in Dan and Katherine’s driveway all those months ago, I made the decision to stop being a victim. To no longer allow my past and my experiences determine my future. Or more accurately, imprison my future. I stopped running and decided to face Universal Health Group and my former supervisor, Darrin Locket.
I can say his name now.
Even in my head. I never could before.
But now it holds no control over me—neither the man or the company. I freed myself of him by freeing myself of my story. And with Grace by my side, we went public.
I took back my power.
And my life.
Seconds after tapping on the link, the browser opens to The New York Times website.
“Sexual Harassment and Retaliation. Intimidation in the Workplace.”
And under it…a picture of me. Because though a journalist wrote it, this story is mine. It tells of my education, my work history, and then how it came to an end. It tells of walking into an environment every day that is supposed to feel safe but is actually where you’re most vulnerable. It tells of a company’s systematic efforts to demean and deface your reputation and tear down your confidence and pride. It tells of giving in to the pressure and mental torture. And then it tells of standing up for yourself and claiming your strength and power.
It tells of refusing to be silenced.
Grace had advised and urged me to sue Universal Health Group. At first, I said no. I didn’t want their tainted money that, if things ended in a settlement, undoubtedly would’ve included an NDA. No, I wanted this.
My voice.
But then, I thought about all I could do with that money. Not for myself, but for the women who have suffered he humiliation and degradation that I have. I imagined the assistance and support the money could provide, and I told Grace to go for it—and not to settle. After seeing her smile once I gave her the go-ahead, I almost felt sorry for UHG. Almost.
Okay, no I didn’t.
Jude and I read the long article in silence, and as I scroll to the end, he sweeps a hand over my hair, tangling his fingers in the strands and tugging my head back. I meet his emerald, warrior-angel gaze—my warrior angel who has had my back through this entire ordeal—and the love gleaming in his eyes is a balm to the butterflies, hell raptors, knotting my stomach.
“You did good, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’m so proud of you.”
I smile against his mouth, accepting the soft, gentle kiss he places there.
“I’m scared,” I admit against that same mouth. Only with him can I admit that. I’m not a fool; I know there will be backlash, from UHG to trolls on Twitter. And I accepted that going in. But the knowledge doesn’t stem the fear.
“They can’t touch you legally. Grace made sure of that,” he says, rubbing a thumb down my cheek. “And thanks to you, other women are coming forward and finding the courage to fight. So fuck everybody else. You spoke up for yourself and all those women who didn’t and couldn’t. Who gives a damn what ignorant asses say? You’re brave. You’re strong. You’re you.”
From him, the “You’re you” sounded as if it were the best compliment he could ever give. And my love for him that I sometimes think will smother me, grows impossibly bigger, deeper. Becomes more.
“I love you.” Setting the computer aside, I turn and crawl over his thighs, straddling him. Burying my fingers in his thick, golden brown hair, I whisper again, “I love you. Thank you.”
“For what?” he asks, cupping my hips, holding me in place. As if I’m even considering moving.
“For being my strength when mine wavered. For being my heart when I was so positive mine was broken beyond repair. For being my hope and faith until mine caught up with yours. And for being my warrior.”
He snorts. “I’m not the one being David to Goliath.” His smile fades, and his hands abandon my waist and cup my face. “And I would be anything for you, whatever you need. Whatever you want. Just as long as I can be yours.”
“And I can be yours.”
I kiss him, long, hard, and then gentle and sweet.
Just like our love.
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to my Father, who has never failed me nor forsaken me. Where my imagination is limited, Yours is endless, and I thank you for constantly pouring Your creative love into my heart and spirit. I never want to write a book without You!
To Gary. You are my support, my cheerleader (and you have the legs for the skirt, too!), my faith in myself, and my confidence. Thank you for always being you, my real life hero.
To Juliette Cross. Thank you for always being there when I need to vent, to laugh, and to scheme about our world domination. It’s gonna happen!
To Tammy McGowan and Angel Mystique. Thank you for lending me your time and your reader hearts and sharp eyes to beta read my book. I truly appreciate your time and your patience. MUAH!
To Hakim Alston. Thank you for answering my endless questions everything tattoos. I love you, cousin, but you’re still not getting a book. Nope.
To Tracy Montoya. Yeah, I’m tearing up. Hold on. Okay, got it together. Thank you for being such a wonderful editor and interceder and champion. You’ve been such an important part of the last five years and shaping who I am as a writer. Thank you for all that you are, and who you are. And I’m already amassing our #TerribleLifetimeMovieMonday line-up!
To Rachel Brooks. a.k.a. Agent Extraordinaire. Super Agent. Awesome badass. LOL! Thank you for helping me to live my best publishing life and for never failing to have my back or deliver a reality slap when I need one. You’re simply amazing, and I’m so excited about the many more books we have to conquer together!
To the Saints and Sinners! Y’all are my girls! Thank you for always giving me a soft but hilarious place to go and just be me. I love you guys!
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Naima Simone’s love of romance was first stirred by Johanna Lindsey, Sandra Brown, and Linda Howard many years ago. Well, not that many. She is only eighteen…ish. Though her first attempt at a romance novel starring Ralph Tresvant from New Edition never saw the light of day, her love of romance, reading, and writing has endured. Published since 2009, she spends her days—and nights—writing sizzling romances with a touch of humor and snark.
She is wife to Superman, or his non-Kryptonian, less bulletproof equivalent, and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, sometimes domestically challenged bliss in the southern United States.
Come visit Naima at www.naimasimone.com.
Discover the Sweetest Taboo series
Sin and Ink
Also by Naima Simone
Only for a Night
Only for Your Touch
Only for You
Scoring with the Wrong Twin
Scoring Off the Field
Scoring the Player’s Baby
Beauty and the Bachelor
The Millionaire Makeover
The Bachelor’s Promise
A Millionaire at Midnight
Witness to Passion
Killer Curves
Secrets and Sins: Gabriel
Secrets and Sins: Malachim
Secrets and Sins: Raphael
Secrets and Sins: Chayot
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