I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series)

by Cole, S. Ann

  The Mexicans had left in a fit of pique, which should’ve raised worry among the securities. But even if they did suspect anything had happened, none of Johnson’s men were allowed in the den unless he called for them, which was rare.

  Sarah wasn’t worried, though. Johnson James was a down-low drug dealer hiding behind his big name insurance company. The minute cops rolled in on the scene and saw that it was Johnson James, it would hit the news and no one would give a shit he’d been murdered. They would focus on the fact Johnson James was an undercover drug dealer … and a host of other facts most likely to be revealed. Because a drug dealer just scratched the surface.

  As far as Sarah was concerned, she was a busy, hard-working interior designer who was oblivious to her husband’s dealings, until his sudden death. They owned licensed guns for security reasons, but never would she have imagined her husband involved in such entanglements.

  Nice.

  Sarah glanced around the room, and, feeling satisfied with her staging, she went the foot of the stairs, retied her scarf around her thigh, opened her mouth, and screamed.

  Chapter 22

  K. Kingston

  Pansy or Alpha?

  Marsha and I gathered our shopping bags on our arms and hobbled up the driveway.

  “Now how the hell am I gonna reach the keys in my purse,” I giggled, realizing I should’ve taken out the house keys before I bundled up the shopping bags.

  Marsha laughed and nodded toward Jahleel’s motorbike parked on the lawn. “Mr. Fantastic Fuck is home, so the door might be open.”

  I made a face at her. Those were most definitely not the kind of words I needed to hear, because, as she said them, the images of her getting nailed by Jahleel on his couch came rushing in. “Keep those thoughts of JK to yourself, will you?”

  She just rolled her eyes at me and continued walking.

  On this day, I turn twenty-six. And the one person who I would’ve loved to spend this special day with has been out of the country for the past week or so, unable to give me a sure date when he’d be back. So I decided to spend it shopping like the ‘holic’ I was with my best friend. Marsha never disappointed.

  Dating a busy billionaire, whose presence was being demanded at a dozen places per hour, sucked in a major way.

  Jahleel woke me up this morning by jumping up and down on my bed singing the happy birthday song and gave me a stunning pair of gold earrings. The gift wasn’t extraordinary, because he randomly bought me gifts at times for no reason whatsoever, so I figured he’d just decided to go simple this time.

  The Kingstons sent me gift cards for various fashion stores, and their ‘gift cards’ were like credit cards with a limit Marsha and I had yet to reach. We went all-out crazy, getting things we didn’t even need. Because, what better way to make Krissan Kingston smile than getting her new stuff?

  Like Marsha had guessed, the front door was open when she awkwardly turned the knob with her two free fingers. We both tried getting through the door first to relieve ourselves of the bags and ended up tripping over each other, tumbling head first to the floor. We burst into fits of laughter, until Marsha stopped laughing and started scowling.

  I followed her glare which was directed to the right of the front door, where Saskia Day was pinned to the wall by Jahleel’s hips. Her breathing was flowing heavy through parted lips, while Jahleel had one hand pressed against the wall and the other gripping her waist. But he was looking down at me as if he’d been caught stealing an angel’s harp, while Saskia’s desire-filled gaze was trained on his face as though, to her, we weren’t there.

  I started giggling harder, even though I felt like stabbing someone. “Oh my God, JK, I’m so sorry! I really ought to start using my own entrance.”

  The situation didn’t seem amusing to him though, because he didn’t laugh back. Instead, he dropped his hand from Saskia’s waist, shoved his other hand through his hair and closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he reopened them, he looked dead at me and said, “I’m sorry.”

  You better be, I told him with my eyes, but kept on a confused expression for the girls. Because, well, why would he be telling me sorry? I was the intruder. He should’ve been apologizing to Marsha or Saskia.

  Jahleel walked off without sparing Saskia a second glance as if he hadn’t had her pinned against the wall in what seemed like a moment of heated passion only seconds ago.

  “What an asshole,” Marsha muttered, as she tried to scramble up to her feet, but kept tripping back over my legs and the bags in the process.

  This had me laughing hysterically. “For the love of God, Marsh!”

  Saskia shuffled, and I slid my gaze back to her and stopped cackling, not wanting her to think I was laughing at her. She had a look of dejection, her cheeks reddened with embarrassment, or maybe it was vestigial of being seduced by Mr. Grade-A Asshole.

  Before I could be polite and tell her ‘Hi’ — because she’d been extremely nice to me the first time I met her — she asked me in her thick British accent, “May I use your loo?”

  Judging by the way she stressed ‘your’, I could tell she was suffering immense hurt from Jahleel’s callous treatment.

  “Sure,” I answered, aiming for cheeriness. “Upstairs, turn left.”

  Don’t fall and break your neck now!

  She failed at her attempt to smile, so she just nodded and walked down the hall in skin-tight jeans, a Louis Vuitton purse-belt around her waist, an über cut-up black tee, and black Jordans, her hair a mass of wild curls. At the foot of the staircase, she stopped, turned around and, succeeding at a smile this time, said, “Oh, happy birthday. Hope it’s been good so far for ya’.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled back, wondering why the hell Jahleel felt he needed to tell her that. “It has been.”

  That was a lie, of course.

  Saskia turn and continued up the stairs.

  Once she was out of earshot, Marsha whispered with bulging eyes, “Okay, so, I was trying my damnedest not to look starstruck — you know me and that pride shit — but, holy shitballs, isn’t that Saskia Day?!”

  Laughing at her shock, I started to get up off the floor from among the heap of shopping bags around me. “Yep.”

  Marsha shook her head and blew a breath as though she couldn’t believe she’d just been in the presence of one of the most famous pop/rock artists out there right now. Then she picked up a bag and whacked me with it, Marsha style. “And you failed to tell me your whore of a brother is screwing her?”

  “I had no idea, I swear, Marsh,” I returned, as I began picking up the bags from the floor. “First time I met her was a few weeks ago. She hired JK. And while it was obvious she’d been caught under the spell of his unholy good looks just like every other dumb bimbo who sees him, he wasn’t so warm to her. He was kind of a dick, actually.”

  Marsha shrugged as she bundled all her bags and started towards the living room. “Maybe she’d already fucked him.”

  “Nope. I asked her and she’d said she hadn’t,” I relayed, strolling behind her. “Because she wanted to know the reason behind his asshole-ism.”

  Marsha dropped the shopping bags on the couch — Jahleel had bought a new couch like I suggested, by the way — then swirled to face me. “She told you something that personal? This infamous celebrity you met for the first time?”

  I deposited my own armful of bags on the couch. “Yep. She was pretty cool. She didn’t have that bitchy rock-star attitude you’d expect. I was actually rooting for them to be together,” I lied through my damn teeth. “But JK acted as if he wasn’t interested in the least. So, believe me, I’m just as shocked as you are to see her here.”

  “Yeah, bitch,” she shot in an acerbic tone. “Root for her.”

  “Sorry, Marsh,” I said on a one-shoulder shrug. “But if you wanna keep opening your legs for JK when you know damn well he doesn’t give a shit about more than sex with you, then that’s your problem.”

  “Fuck you!” she spat.


  I took it with another one-shoulder shrug.

  Sighing, she flopped down on the couch among the shopping bags. “I know you’re right. But the problem is not me or any of the women he sleeps with, Krissy K.” She turned her glassy gaze to me and flat-out told me, “The problem is you.”

  Unsure of what to make of that, even though I knew what she meant, I questioned, “What’re you talking about?”

  Marsha made a frustrated noise. “It’s freakin’ obvious to everyone but you. Can’t you just take one unselfish second to open your goddamn eyes and see that JK’s — ”

  “Shh,” I shushed. “You hear that?”

  A loud blaring of Rihanna’s Diamonds sounded right outside the house. In the same minute, my cellphone vibrated inside my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text message from him:

  Outside.

  Without so much as blinking, I rushed out of the living room and straight through the front door, skidding to a stop. Trevillo Nelson was standing next to my dream car: an Audi TT RS. In the exact color I always dreamed it would be: cherry red. Bright and shiny and brand new with a huge white ribbon slapped on the hood, right there in my driveway. Both of the doors were opened, spilling that diamond song.

  Trevillo had his hands stuffed in his front pockets, watching me with uncertainty as if trying to gauge my reaction. Today he was Playboy Trev, in light jeans, sky-blue polo T-shirt, white chucks, and a white ball-cap on his head. Yep, he was looking more appealing than the sleek new car next to him.

  “Damnnnn,” I heard Marsha mutter from behind me. “Bitch, you need to tell me your secrets.”

  Ignoring Marsha, I continued down the steps and started walking around the sexiness that was Audi TT RS. I convinced myself long ago that when the manufacturers designed this car, they were thinking of me. I’ve never loved a car more. And here it was, delivered to me. Only, I couldn’t accept it.

  “How did you know?” I distractedly asked as I trailed a finger around the shape of one of the headlights.

  Trevillo half-snorted, half-chuckled. “You serious?”

  To give him my full attention, I stopped admiring the car and went up to him. “How?”

  “Uh,” he started off in a tone that heralded sarcasm. “Aside from it being the wallpaper for your laptop, both your cellphones, your iPad, and your iPod, I kind of just took a wild guess.”

  Embarrassed, I slapped both palms over my face and groaned. “Oh, God. I didn’t realize I was that obvious.”

  “Well, babe, it’s no longer a dream car. Now it’s real.” Grabbing my wrists, he yanked me up to him. “Happy Birthday, Miss Kingston.”

  He lowered his head and kissed me, and I allowed him to, before I broke it to him, “I can’t accept it.”

  Trevillo jerked his head back to look at me. “It’s your birthday.”

  “I know, and I love the car. But I thought we agreed — ”

  “It’s your birthday,” he repeated, as he let go of me and stepped back, his eyes getting hard and serious.

  “Trev, I told you I didn’t want you to — ”

  “It’s your fucking birthday!” he barked at me, making me jump.

  Why was he getting so inflamed?

  Then I felt a grip on my right arm, and I was being yanked backwards as Jahleel moved in front of me, glowering at Trevillo. “Listen up, assfuck, you don’t get to talk to her that way. She can’t be fuckin’ bought.”

  Cool as a cucumber, Trevillo closed the car door behind him and leaned back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Tilting his head, he looked at me around Jahleel, gaze unwavering, non-blinking, and just said, “Krissy?”

  That’s it? That’s all he was going to say?

  But then I realized what he wanted was for me to make it clear I was his. He said he wanted me to be ‘Trev’s’, and I agreed to that. He proved as much when he attacked Mark and Carlos two weeks ago. Now his silence was telling me he respected my brother enough to not pick a fight with him, so the matter was left to me. He hadn’t spared a single glance at Jahleel as his gaze remained on me, and I knew he wouldn’t reply a single word to Jahleel either, no matter what vitriolic words he spewed. Because I needed to choose.

  Without breaking Trevillo’s gaze, I told Jahleel, “Breathe easy, JK.”

  Jahleel turned to look at me, and then back at Trevillo, a tic jumping his jaw. Leaning in to me, he gritted out, “Hope you know what you’re doin’, bad girl.”

  He strode off to his motorbike, jerked on his helmet, and roared off down the street.

  Stuffing my hands in the back pockets of my jeans, I turned to Trevillo. “Listen, Trev — ”

  “No, Krissan, you listen,” he ground out in a voice that told me his patience was now a thing of the past. “I’m not a pussy. But I’ve been an all-out fucking pussy since I met you. I’ve change a lot in the manner in which I do things just to appease you. I’ve never had a woman tell me what I can or cannot do before. It’s usually the other way around. I can’t buy you whatever the fuck I want because you don’t want to be ‘lavished’, you don’t want me to take you to functions, you don’t want to move in with me, and you want to keep us a fucking secret … ”

  He trailed off on an angry blow of breath and shoved a furious hand through his hair. “I’m not cut out for this restrictions bullshit, Krissy — not unless it’s in the bedroom. I can tolerate only so much and no more. So, if you don’t want me to go all fucked-up, non-verbal, alpha male on your ass, then you’ll accept this fucking car. It’s your birthday: that’s a valid reason to fucking lavish you. I’m tired of this shit.”

  “I’ll take you either way!” I heard Marsha call from the doorway. “Pussy or Alpha. Either way, you’re yummeeeee!”

  Irritated, I turned to see her standing in the doorway with her hands planted on her hips, grinning wide.

  Just then, Saskia brushed past her. She stopped on the steps and looked over to the empty spot where Jahleel’s motorbike would be. She sighed and unzipped her purse-belt, took out a cigarette and lit up, just as a black limo pulled up on the curb. The driver came out and opened the back door, waiting.

  Saskia looked over to the empty spot again, narrowed her eyes, took a long drag of her cigarette, and strode straight to the limo without uttering a word to anyone. I’d almost forgotten she was there. Jahleel was a major, major dick for just leaving her there like that.

  “What’s it gonna be, Krissan?” Trevillo impatiently asked, yanking my attention back to him.

  He didn’t seem to care a celebrity had just wandered out of my house and straight into a limousine as if it were a usual occurrence.

  Tilting my head back, I looked up at him, thinking this Trevillo was more than enough for me. More than I could handle. “If this is your ‘pussy’, I don’t think I wanna know what your ‘alpha’ is like. So I guess I’ll accept the car.”

  “Good,” he said, mollified and dragged me back up against him. “Now I get to take you home for the other birthday gift. The one that includes tongues and lips and hands and teeth and fingernails and lots of trembling and begging … ”

  “Do I get to cuff you again?” I whispered, becoming breathless at the prospect. “Maybe to the bed this time?”

  A hint of a smile danced across his lips. “Whatever you want, babe. Cuff me, whip me, lick me, cut me … ” He brushed his thumb across my cheek. “Pussy, remember?”

  Unrequited Love

  If only you had not looked upon me,

  I would’ve not been beguiled.

  If only you had not spoken to me,

  I would’ve not been seduced.

  If only you had not touched me,

  I would’ve not been claimed.

  If only you had not breathed upon me,

  I would’ve not been owned.

  My love,

  Why did you

  Look?

  Speak?

  Touch?

  Breathe?

  Why, my love,

  Did you make me �
� ?

  Make me fall in love

  with you?

  I see your eyes,

  They hold no lies,

  They hold no truth,

  But instead the whys.

  Command your lips

  To speak

  The lies,

  The truths,

  The whys.

  Command your lips,

  To tell …

  Do you?

  Do you love me as I

  Do you?

  Chapter 23

  T. Nelson

  Screwed

  Three weeks later …

  “Okay … okay. I promise; I’ll be on the next flight out … Yeah.”

  Trevillo slammed down the phone with more force than needed to end the call. Rubbing his forehead, he thought, one day to rest.

  That’s all he needed, and even that seemed improbable. As soon as he cleared up one problem, another one arose, demanding his presence. Sometimes, like now, he resented being successful. But then again, it was sheer greediness, because he felt the need to get involved in every kind of business there was to spread his wings all over the goddamn world.

  Now, despite the plans he had for the day, the urgent need for his presence was requested in the British Virgin Islands. There was a small slice of land there which he’d been in a squabble over for past thirty months.

  With him being from the states, shit was challenging. The Queen preferred offing the island to a Brit citizen, and even though Trevillo was offering a tenth more than the others were offering, he was still getting a hard fight. Because, what he’d learned throughout this process was Brits weren’t about money, they were about roots. They were distinguished, and he respected that, but come hell or high water, he was going to get that island, even if it meant moving to the UK and switching from drinking large consumptions of coffee to sipping tea from tiny cups and nibbling teacakes from saucers. Anything to convince them he was deserving.