Our Happily Ever After: BWWM Interracial Romance Black Women White Men (That Forbidden Love Book 3)

by Ellie Etienne

  Dan was sitting at the counter by the window, watching a football game on a tablet. His work phone was by his cup.

  “Am I interrupting?” Adele said, getting on a stool next to him.

  Dan put away the earphones and turned to her. “Oh, hey Simpson! Ready to do some real field work?”

  It took a lot to remain calm. She’d been doing the job long enough to have pulled a few tricks on both clients and rivals, and hearing him say that made her blood boil. “Real field work, sure. Will you let me in on this plan I keep hearing about?”

  “Do you have the folder with you?”

  She took it out and put it on the table.

  “Great. Read through it while I get you coffee.”

  This time she did groan. “Latte with two sugars!” she called after him. She didn’t want to, but she opened the folder and scanned the part she’d not covered yet. As expected, there was nothing new: more allegations of fraud and demands of refunds.

  When Dan returned, the folder was closed.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?” She felt like a student at a test, and that annoyed her a lot.

  “What do you see?”

  She blew out air. “Complaints from three dozen unsatisfied clients.”

  “Anything else?”

  “They all claim Johnson is a fraud.”

  “Duh. What do they have in common?”

  “They’re all married couples around thirty.”

  Dan’s reply was silence and an expression of excited anticipation. It didn’t take long to figure out what his plan really was, and when it hit her… Thank God her skin was too dark for anyone to see her blush.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me, Krakowski!” She pushed the folder in his direction. “Dream on.”

  The barista called her name then, and she went for her coffee, leaving the handbag behind. There was no way she could or would leave after both Meg and Neil had told her to suck it up, and that was what she planned on doing. The coffee was hot and sweet, and she tried it at the station before going back. It calmed her down some.

  “Want to hear the rest of it after all, huh?” Dan said, his white smile present as ever.

  “Spit it out then.”

  “I trust you’ll like it. At least some of it, Adi.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He cleared his throat. “Still getting there, got it. Anyway Simpson, here goes.”

  During his pitch Adele experienced an emotional roller coaster, ranging from utter surprise to a visceral need to punch him in the face. The gist of Dan’s plan was that the two of them would pretend to be a couple and undergo Johnson’s program. It was ridiculous and potentially devastating as far as her sanity went, but it was clearly a sure way to uncover his scheme. It would be stubborn of her to deny that, so she didn’t.

  “It makes sense, but it doesn’t mean I like it,” she said, finishing her coffee.

  “Well, I do, if it changes anything, but you don’t have to. Meg has signed off on it, so we gotta do what we gotta do, you know?” She saw he was having the time of his life with this. Beside, he was right – they had to do what they had to do. She kept thinking of that promotion to a partner, and that helped justify the torture she was about to inflict on herself.

  “You’re right, Dan. I’m in.”

  “Huh. Unexpected. Thought I’d have a bit more fun with it.”

  She sighed. “When do we start?”

  He led her to his car then and they drove off, going in the opposite direction from the office. The interior of the Camaro smelled even stronger of Dan’s cologne, but to her surprise there wasn’t a trace of tobacco scent. Guys like him, who act cool in public, tend to smoke, as well; probably a notion that had stuck with them from their teenage years. Yet the car smelled nice and was well taken care of: no trash on the floor or dust on the plastic dashboard. Adele even touched it to make sure and was left pleased with the result.

  “It’s now new, but I take care of her.”

  “Good to know.”

  They talked little during the ride, and Adele could only guess where he was taken her. She half-expected to be driven to a restaurant as a crappy attempt at staging a date, but that did not turn out to be the case. They stopped somewhere on Fifth Avenue, and then she understood where the day was headed. Krakowski produced a corporate credit card.

  “I think you need some new clothes.”

  Adele was about to blurt out a comeback that would make her mother ashamed, but Dan left the car, shutting the door in her face. She followed him, determined to finish the exchange, and then she saw the stores and the brand names above their doors. They were a minute’s walk from all the most expensive places, places that Adele wouldn’t dream of going to, even with her quarterly bonuses. There was ridiculously expensive, and there was overpriced, and this was ridiculously overpriced. Yet the only viable question was: where to go first?

  They spent the next three hours coursing between glaring stores, where the staff was altogether too nice to them. They were trying things on and swiping that credit card, until it became obvious they had gotten carried away.

  Dan said: “The next thing we buy will be on us, Simpson.” He watched her try out a handbag that to him looked like any other one in any other shop. “Would you like these seven grand subtracted from your pay?”

  It was a good point, and she put it back on the shelf. At that moment she believed she wouldn’t mind giving any sum of money for the bag. What was money good for otherwise?

  With Dan carrying the bags, they left the final point on their route and walked back to the car. It took him a minute to fit all their shopping into the muscle car’s small trunk.

  “Now that there’s no going back,” Adele said with delight, “tell me again, what’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “Just had to get you to my level, girl!” His smug face wasn’t funny, so she didn’t reply to that, giving him time to get serious. When that happened, he said: “Okay. See, dirtbags like our friend Red react to money. Another thing you might have picked up from the testimony is that all those couples have cumulative income of over half a million a year…” Hearing him talk as a normal, intelligent person was a revelation. Obviously there was more to this cowboy wannabe than swagger and good looks. “…and that’s why we need to look rich. Not just well-to-do, but filthy rich, like we have cash lying around for shits like him to pick up.”

  “Will he buy that?”

  “Kidding me? He’ll swallow it whole and ask for more.”

  “Thanks for that image, Krakowski.”

  “I didn’t even… But I like your thinking. So. Step A is complete.”

  “What’s step B?”

  “To go home and get some sleep, because tomorrow is a long drive. We’re going to…” He took out his tablet and tapped a few times to bring forward notes. “We’re going to Bolton, New York. An hour’s drive from Albany.”

  “Jesus…”

  “Hey, it’s a nice place. Clear lake, quiet neighbors, green fields and mountains as far as you can see. Curry and Radcliffe rented out a house for us and-”

  “A house? No way.” It was bad enough to be a pretend couple, but to actually live with Krakowski for three weeks? No thanks. That was beyond punishment. She could hardly spend a day with him (even a day of shopping), but weeks? “I will lose my mind, Daniel.”

  He grinned. “I’ll see to that, honey. Come, let’s go get our wedding rings.”

  They bought a pair of matching rings at Tiffany’s, simple bands without any stones. Afterwards, Dan drove her home, and told her to be ready the next morning. There was no time to lose. Three weeks wasn’t that long, especially considering the fact that they wouldn’t be spending all of this time looking into Johnson. They would be looking into him, sure, but from afar. They’d have to build trust first, and only then start pushing. There free time would be taken by investigating everyone who’d ever worked with him, his former lovers, friends in the business and employer
s. Every bit of information could prove to be useful. Even the smallest misstep could lead to something bigger – to some dark secret he’d been trying to bury, or an accident he wasn’t proud of. All that would hopefully help build their case. If Red Johnson had done anything the least bit questionable, it could be twisted and presented as precedent. Speeding tickets would be worst-case scenario – not much to catch there – but if thirty people accused him of something, chances were he’d done it before. Or something similar to that.

  It was easy to see how someone in his position would be tempted to commit a crime. People listened to him. Perhaps he was a real therapist to some, but it would be easy for him to sell others some under the counter drugs. Money talked, and Johnson’s clients had plenty of it. Once the first few tricks went smoothly, he moved on to bigger things and bigger paydays. Maybe he came up with an idea of a program for married couples, which was about as effective as praying, and maybe he threw in some sugar pills for good measure, just to make the scam more believable. Desperate to become parents, people would believe in anything, and more so if it came from a certified doctor. Nobody would suspect him of being a scam artist, not in their situation. But then he got greedy and then he got carried away. People kept coming, and he kept feeding them candy and empty promises, while cashing in six-figure checks. It went well for over a year, as he managed to find excuses and explanations as to why the treatment didn’t work, but in the end it all came back to bite him in the ass.

  That was how Adele imagined the situation in her head, and if that was anywhere near the truth, they’d have no problem finding evidence of it. There would have to be logs and notes and medical records, filling his office, unless he did a really good job at destroying all that. However, several couples had provided copies of digital correspondence, emails and texts, and mobile network operators agreed to send them call logs. That alone wasn’t proof of anything: Johnson had been careful. The emails contained only preliminary interview, which made it look like the couples in question were simply consulting the man about their procreation problems. The real conversations were had in person, and not one of them had been recorded.

  There were other materials on file, such as prescriptions for placebo pills and some other recommendations, but those would surprise no one. It was common practice to prescribe placebo and some general exercises to improve health before pregnancy. Nowhere was there a hint of any miracle program that would help a couple get pregnant within months. The financial trail looked like Johnson had received general donations for his assistance, and since there was no observable harm done to any of the alleged victims, there was no basis for a lawsuit.

  Adele thought it all over again as she rode the elevator to her apartment, and then again inside, undressing and putting the stove on. If Johnson was guilty, he was sly as a devil. Every angle she tried to approach at proved to be useless. There was either nothing to find, or something that could be interpreted by his defense attorney as a coincidence or a part of a perfectly legal practice. Moreover, if they accused him of something they had no proof of they could be hit in the face with a defamation lawsuit. Of course, she reminded herself, it would only apply if their claims turned out to be untrue, and the chances of that would be high if they didn’t find something to nail him with.

  Getting situated on the soft couch, Adele found herself fascinated with the case. It was a brand new puzzle, seemingly impossible to crack. The odds weren’t in her favor, and the path to solution promised adventure and possibly fun. She even forgot for a few minutes that Krakowski would be there to make her life a living hell. She decided she would fight back, just as Neil had told her. Back in school, she never had a problem answering to bullies, but as she grew up she hoped that it would cease to be a necessity. Apparently, she would have to remember the not so good old days. Summoning inner strength and determination, she came to think of it, of Dan, as another piece of the puzzle, another challenge on her way to success. Teasing wouldn’t stop her from getting to the bottom of this. If anything, it could prove to be a good learning experience and a training exercise.

  Just like that she had no more problem with Dan Krakowski.

  Or at least so she thought at the time.

  Before going to sleep that night Adele went through the file again, this time paying more attention at small details. It had bugged her earlier that Dan had to point out obvious things for her, such as the couples’ financial setup. She noted new things, writing them down on a piece of paper, so she could figure out later how to approach their roles.

  All couples were between twenty-five and thirty-five, making good money.

  Most have been together for at least seven years.

  All had been trying to get pregnant for at least two years prior to contacting Johnson; all to no end.

  All had tried every pill on the market, every therapy out there.

  Artificial insemination had failed in all cases.

  Most had found out about Johnson’s practice online, but some had their previous doctors tell them about him (Adele underlined the names of said doctors, with a note to check them out thoroughly – there was always a chance they’d accepted referral fees).

  All couples were from Upstate New York, everywhere from Western New York to Long Island, living in predominantly rich neighborhoods.

  There was racial diversity among the victims, which meant she and Dan wouldn’t stand out as long as they played their parts.

  She spent half an hour coming up with her story – the story of Adele Simpson, happily married but missing a huge part of her life. She drafted a page-long script, a mini biography similar to what Johnson had on his website, and possibly as fictional. She sent the file to Dan, hoping he would take it seriously.

  He didn’t.

  The reply came in ten minutes:

  Girl, you should quit law and start writing books! No, it’s good stuff, I’ll give it a look.

  There was nothing useful in his reply, so she decided not to continue the conversation. They’d have plenty of time for that on the way to their new house. Ugh! Just that morning she’d been at her desk, quietly happy with her position, and now she was going to spend three weeks pretend married to one of the most annoying people in the firm. Such is the job, she told herself, once again remembering that if she played this right it could be a huge step towards a promotion – winning a multi-million dollar case was worth a little discomfort, and it would demonstrate to both Meg and Neil that she was ready to take one for the team, to do the dirty work.

  The more she thought about it, the more positives she found. They would be out of town for a few weeks, living at a presumably large country house by the lake, all expenses covered by CR&A. In retrospect, the boutique clothes might have been overdoing it, but that would be on Krakowski, either way, seeing as how he was in charge. She wasn’t sure whether they would be driving back to New York at any point during the mission, but saw no reason to. Besides work, there wasn’t time for much else. She would catch an occasional movie with a friend or have dinner at her mother’s, but there were no pressing matters that could require her presence, unless she’d be called into the office. Which was to say into Neil’s office. She’d turned him down, but she would be lying if she said the thought of office sex didn’t turn her on. She would likely miss out on that in the coming weeks, but all in all, there was no downside, she decided.

  Oh but God would it ever be tough to stand Dan’s teenage sense of humor for this long!

  With these thoughts on her mind, Adele drifted off, and the night was short and restless for her, before the alarm woke her up early in the morning. The drive ahead would be a long one, and she still had to pack.

  Chapter 3

  Since most of the clothes she’d require were new and had been left in Dan’s car, Adele only packed underwear and the essential things. She ended up with a small suitcase and a light handbag. At nine in the morning she’d already showered and gotten dressed, and Dan was supposed to pick her up any time n
ow. Yet, there wasn’t a message from him at ten after nine, and at nine thirty she lost patience. She picked up the phone and called him.

  “Are we still a go?” she asked, irritated.

  He mumbled something incoherent, then yawned, and said: “Yeah, you know, I’ve decided we should move the trip a bit.”

  She paused, collecting her thoughts, struggling not to get outright furious with him. Was he kidding? Standing in the middle of the room, dressed and pretty, she sincerely hoped he was. “Have you now, Krakowski?”

  “Yeah. You see, arriving there would only raise suspicion. There are quite a few houses around, and, speaking from experience, folks there are definitely going to wonder about the newly arrived couple. My parents live in an area like this. So the best thing for us will be to arrive at night, when everyone’s too busy watching Fallon or whatever they do. Well, maybe earlier than that.”

  She’d listened patiently, and that had given her the time to come up with a diplomatic reply. “And when were you going to mention that to me?”

  Now it was his turn to pause. “Well, at eight. I overslept. I’m not used to waking up this early, okay?”

  “Not okay, Dan! What would you have me do now?”

  “Don’t you have things to do?”

  “Wow. I had things to do.”

  “When all else fails – have breakfast!” he suggested.

  “You’re insufferable.” She clicked off, and stood standing for a moment. Was that how their assignment was going to be? Would he continue to screw her over? Working at Curry Radcliffe, Adele was used to things happening when they were supposed to happen, and oversleeping was not in her vocabulary. Hence, she felt lost. The anger was still there, but she found it was draining away quickly. What was the use? Obviously there was nothing she could do about Dan’s nonexistent work ethics, and she wasn’t going to run back to Meg and cry about it. It was too late for getting out of it, too, so the only reasonable thing to do was to be happy about the sudden free time.