Crowned by Hate

by Amo Jones

  “Hey, trouble…” he whispers into the crook of my neck.

  I relax, all my nerves contracting as I let out a long sigh. “Hey, mischief.”

  He puts me back down to my feet, pushing me back softly before gazing at me up and down. “Marriage looks good on you, señorita.”

  I roll my eyes and take a seat on the chair opposite him. Devon has always been a terrible liar. “Stop bullshitting.”

  “No lies.” He shakes his head, and it’s then that I notice how the skin around his eyes are wrinkled at the edges and his jaw has a few days scruff on it. Not like Devon at all, he’s always been a strong advocate for the ‘no beard’ campaign. I don’t know if there is such a campaign because you wouldn’t catch me dead in it, but Devon would definitely be the ringleader of the entire operation, equipped with a big flag that would read ‘No Beards’ across it. Riding horses are cool, but have you ever ridden a beard? I have, and let me tell you…

  Yikes. I’m getting distracted.

  “You look good.” I remove my jacket and toss it over the chair beside me.

  “Now who’s lying.” He gestures to the waiter and then looks back to me. “I’m sorry, Isa.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t care anymore.” I place my hand over his. “All that matters is that I have you back.”

  His eyes remain on mine, his jaw clenching a few beats and then he abruptly yanks his hand away, his eyes finding the waiter’s. “Can I get two caramel filled donuts, one long black, and one latte.” The waiter scribbles his order down and then walks off.

  “Devon?” I raise my eyebrows, trying to gain his attention. “I do have you back—right?”

  He stares down at his glass of water and then picks it up. “Honestly, Isa, I don’t know.” He leans forward as he reaches for my hand but it’s my turn to yank it away from him. Tugging on his hair in obvious frustration, he leans back on his chair again. “What we’ve been, how we’ve known each other…I just—I don’t think it’s going to be as easy to change from that to something more mainstream.”

  Mainstream. If there was anything to sum up Devon and I’s friendship, it would not be mainstream.

  I gaze out the window. “Why is that hard, Devon?” I look back at him. “It’s simple. We are still friends, we just don’t do that side of what we used to do.”

  He laughs, but it’s a bitter laugh, not a light laugh. Not a laugh I’ve heard come from Devon. “Oh, right, and so I should just forget how you use to come to me when you needed sex or anything? Or I should forget how your skin felt under the palm of my hand?” He tilts his head. “How am I supposed to forget all those things, Isa? How am I supposed to forget the moans that would leak out of you right before you’d combust all over my dick.”

  “Devon!” I look around the restaurant, hoping no one heard his little outburst. Regardless whether or not that he would find it hard, I thought we had always been clear about where we stood with each other. It was always just sex and that’s why when we would have sex with other people, it was never a big deal. “Devon…” I change my tone to a whisper. “Do you have feelings for me?”

  The waiter comes over placing the donuts and the two coffees down. “Here you go…” he smiles, but both Devon and I are glaring at each other from across the table, none of us flinching, and he doesn’t have to say it because I see it there. Point blank right in his face that he does, in fact, have feelings for me. The waiter leaves once the silence gets uncomfortable.

  “How long?” I ask, picking up my coffee.

  “Too long,” he mutters, taking a drink of his coffee after blowing on it.

  “Devon, you can’t—”

  “—You don’t think I know that, Isa?” He leans forward, dropping his tone to a low whisper. “And that’s not even the worst of it.”

  “Great.” I pick at my donut. I need carbs and sugar.

  “Your husband?” he questions, and I pause. “Is my first cousin.” My chewing stops.

  Dead.

  My breathing even stops because what. The. Fuck.

  My hand begins to shake as a deep buzzing sound pierces through my eardrums. “Not possible,” I whisper, dropping the donut back onto the plate like it was infected. Though by this point, I’d take an infection. If a demon possessed my body right at this very moment, I’d submit. Yo, I tried this life shit, homie, now take me home.

  “Actually, it is. My mom and his mom are sisters.” He leans back in his chair. “You weren’t the only person who ran away to New Orleans for a chilled life, Isa.”

  Chilled life? If his mom is anything like Bryant’s mom then he’s deluded. I wonder idly why I’d never met his mom.

  “I’m confused. How can this happen? How does this happen?” I shake my head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, I’m trying to figure out why he married you.”

  “Huh,” I laugh, taking a sip of my coffee. “Well, it doesn’t have anything to do with you, Devon. That much I can tell you.”

  “Isa… I’ve known Bryant all my life. It’s not something I’m proud of and I don’t go broadcasting our connection—as you know—” he adds at the end, casting a gentle look at me. “But I’ve known him since we were born and he’s not a good man.”

  “He’s not that bad, Devon.”

  That’s a lie. He’s all things bad, and even though I know Devon has known him longer, I don’t feel comfortable with him talking about Bryant that way.

  Devon scoffs. “Really? And you know this… how?”

  I don’t. But over the past couple days, I’ve been getting to know Bryant a lot. Slowly but surely his ice wall has been melting toward me, I can just feel it. Whether that ice wall melts and drowns me, we will see, but I also don’t know what he and my father have that needed him marrying me. At least I’m not disillusioned with the thoughts of him being in love with me. I can’t get hurt this way because I have no expectations out of this marriage, I’ve known what was going on from the beginning.

  “I just do.”

  Devon shakes his head. “I can’t do this with you, Isa.” He stands from his chair and looks down at me, tossing some bills onto the middle of the table. “Unless you can see Bryant for what he truly is, I can’t do this with you. I’m sorry.” Then he walks out and leaves me there alone, gathering my thoughts. I feel like that was it. No matter what, Devon and I will never be how we used to be. We will never be as close as we used to be. That bridge has been burned and there’s no going back from it. Finishing my coffee, I get up from my chair and walk out of the restaurant. Brian is still parked in the same spot and when he sees me he gets out of the front seat and opens the back door.

  I smile, not being able to say anything else. “Thanks, Brian.”

  14

  Bryant

  “Are you going to tell her?” Isaac asks, smirking at me from across my desk.

  “No.”

  He laughs. “I’m not surprised, but I am surprised with why…”

  “What do you mean?” I snap, feeling myself begin to get annoyed at where his impending questions are coming from.

  “Well, you had no issues telling her anything before. I want to know why the sudden shift in telling her now?”

  “Because,” I start, leaning back in my chair. “Because there’s no need to tell her anything. She’s compliant, for some fucked reason. I don’t have to manipulate her.”

  “Tragic she actually doesn’t mind being married to you.” My fingers twitch from under my desk and thoughts of watching the life seep out of Isaac’s eyes make butterflies erupt in my belly. This, again, isn’t a good sign.

  “Well, who wouldn’t?” I grin, brushing him off while putting a cigarette in my mouth and lighting it. I blow out a thick cloud of smoke and relish in how all my tense nerves relax along with murder plots and alibis to killing one of my best friends.

  “Well, I don’t know. I know one girl who didn’t,” Isaac whips back. “Speaking of, she will be at the charity event this weekend,
and I take it, you’re taking Isa with you…”

  I shrug, taking another hit of the nicotine. “Yeah, and what of it. Hayley wasn’t anything special, Isaac.”

  Hayley means jack fucking shit to me up against how I feel about Isa.

  “Really?” He arches a brow.

  “Really,” I deadpan. “We were kids.”

  Isaac gets up off the chair and shrugs. “Well, then I’ll bring the popcorn. I’ll put one hundred on Isa though, she’s feisty as fuck.”

  I grin. My girl is rather feisty. Hayley was my high school friend slash girlfriend. We grew up together and then went separate ways when she went to Harvard law and I went into business. We didn’t see each other for years until she made partner at a major firm here in NYC. She’s in the big leagues, the woman is fierce in a courtroom—and in bed. But I haven’t cheated on Isa, and I won’t. This marriage may be more like a business arrangement, but Momma taught me better than that and anyway, I was fussy when I was single. What’s the point of going out to get laid by women who have to tick all my boxes when I have one at home that doesn’t just tick all my boxes but fucking shatters them open too, and the fact that she fucks like a pro is obviously also a bonus.

  I put out my smoke and get up from my chair, walking out of my office. “Dahlia!”

  My assistant comes out of the lunch room carrying a coffee. “Yes? Your next appointment isn’t until four p.m. with Samsung and everything you need has been printed and is waiting for you on your desk,” she yaps off effortlessly, and this is exactly why I have the best assistant in the country.

  I nod. “Thank you. I’ll be back at four.”

  Strolling into the penthouse, I toss my keys on the table and loosen my tie. “Isa!” I need to lose myself in her for a few hours.

  When she doesn’t answer back, I make my way upstairs, grabbing a bottled water out of the fridge on my way. I know she’s home because Brian is home. He was my personal bodyguard, and probably one of the only men I trust, hence why he’s watching Isa. I push open our bedroom door and see her little body curled in the fetal position on the bed, facing the window.

  “Were you going to tell me?” Her voice barely breaks above a whisper.

  I narrow my eyes on her back. “Tell you what?”

  “About Devon,” she answers, her tone dead, flat, and defeated. I don’t like this tone much, I prefer Isa alive and on fire. The hungry agro little spitfire I’m used to. I walk further into the room and come around the bed, taking a seat on the single Lazy Boy that sits beside the large window. I lean back and look at her face but she quickly swipes away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks.

  Fuck. She’s crying.

  “Yes,” I answer truthfully because I did plan to tell her, only that little piece of shit beat me to it. I lean forward. “I was going to tell you, babe, but honestly, it meant nothing to me at all. His existence is not why I married you or even why you were on my radar.”

  “Did you both set this up?” she further asks, pushing herself up and then crawling up the bed to lean against the headboard.

  “What?” I’m honest to God slightly confused at her question.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking…” she laughs sarcastically, her voice shaky from her crying. “Did you and Devon set up him being best friends with me in attempt to wife me? Was my friendship with Devon all a lie? Because honestly how can he just walk away from me.”

  I let out a soft growl, one that I’m sure she couldn’t hear and then get off my chair to take a seat beside her on the bed. “Baby, you insult my resources when you throw around accusations like that.”

  “Oh, answer the fucking question, Bryant.”

  I chuckle, reaching out for her. “No, baby, no. I had heard about you through Devon before we were married yes, but I had thoughts of ‘wife-ing’ you well before he got his claws stuck into you.” I end that sentence with my teeth clenched. Knowing Devon has had his dick inside of what’s mine makes me edgy.

  She looks at me and I fucking hate when she does that. Like if I lie to her, she’ll know. I’m a businessman. I lie on a daily basis to some of the most powerful men in the world, but I can’t lie to her.

  Again, fuck.

  “Okay,” she answers softly and it throws me off. It throws me off because is that her trusting me? I’ve not given her any reason to trust me, in fact, I’ve probably done the opposite, but yet, she says ‘okay.’

  “Okay?” I look at her skeptically. “That’s it?”

  She nods. “Bryant, for this to work, I have to trust you, therefore, I will always ask you once and whatever you answer me with, I will always believe you. But the day that you lie to me will be the day that all trust is broken and I will never trust you again.”

  I tilt my head. “So why don’t you ask me truthfully about the deal your father and I have?”

  She shrugs, sliding off the bed. “I guess I don’t want to use that to manipulate it out of you. I want you to trust me too.” She pauses and looks at me over her shoulder just before she hits the closet. “And for you to do that, you have to open up to me in your own time.” Then she disappears into the closet and I’m left sitting there, gobsmacked. I don’t know what’s happening between her and I, and I don’t know how we went from being enemies to almost friends, but it’s uncharted territory. Territory I’m not actually familiar with because I trust no one.

  I get off the bed and make my way out of the bedroom. Yep, she’ll be waiting a fucking long time.

  15

  Beeping sounds reverberated around the empty walls as I hitched up the heavy bundle in my arms.

  “Dadadada…” the bundle of soft brown hair and rosy cheeks yapped off and I grinned down at her.

  “That’s right. Dada. Say it again…” I muttered as I continued to walk us down the silent hallway. Bleach and disinfectant fueled the air, and it took a while for me to get used to this smell, but after weeks of visiting, I’ve become accustomed to it and so has Harper. My heart cracks in my chest again when we stop outside of a door. Harper reaches forward, her little fingers going over the name that sits on the door.

  “Mamama…” she gargles, dribble coming down her tiny little lips.

  “Yes, baby. Mama.”

  I pushed open the door that reads “Isa Royal” on the front.

  Pulling out some steaks that I have in the fridge, I hit dial for Brian with the Bluetooth speaker hooked up to my phone.

  “Boss…”

  “When does Maria get back?” Maria is my maid. She’s been gone for two weeks now to be with family and I’m already ready to have her flight moved to an earlier date. I don’t cook. Ever.

  “Three days, sir.”

  I look into the empty fridge. “I think I need to do grocery shopping.”

  The phone goes silent, then Brian clears his throat, all though I can’t see through the phone, I know he’s smiling. “Send me a list and I’ll do it. Can’t imagine you in a supermarket.”

  “True,” I answer. “I’ll send you a list.” Then I hang up my phone and scroll through Spotify, hitting play on old school Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

  “Wow…” Isa teases, leaning against the frame of the kitchen island.

  “What?” I fold my arms in front of myself, looking at her up and down while taking in how relaxed she looks in grey sweats and a little white tank top with her long hair falling down the side of her face and over her shoulder.

  She grins, tilting her head. “Are you going to cook tonight?”

  “I don’t cook.”

  “You don’t?” she mocks, and I know she’s being sarcastic. She steps into the kitchen, rounding the bar and pulling out one of the stools. “I mean… my love for food is real, so I know how to cook all sorts of delicious food.”

  I smirk, maybe I don’t need to fly Maria back early after all. “I’ve sent Brian to do some grocery shopping.”

  “I can do it,” she replies, twirling her chair around to face me before placing her face in the palm of h
er hands. Trying to be all innocent and shit. “I’m skilled at grocery shopping activities.”

  “Bet you are…” I mutter, closing the fridge door. “But no, he’ll do it. You can cook while I’m at my four o’clock meeting with Samsung.” I go back to the cupboards, taking down a couple of glasses and pouring wine into both.

  Walking back to her, I wrap my fingers around her chin and tilt her face up to mine. “Are you okay?”

  She searches my eyes in shock and then her shoulders deflate. “Yes. I think I’ll be fine.”

  I now have two reasons to beat Devon’s face in.

  Leaning down, I kiss her on the lips as the front door swings open and I don’t have to look to see who it is. “I need that fucking key back,” I growl against Isa’s lips and she chuckles.

  Stepping backward, I grab my keys off the counter and wink at Isa. “See you later, baby. And you,” I point to my bratty sister, “are not staying for dinner so don’t get comfortable.”

  16

  Isa

  “Well if you’re cooking I won’t be!” Jessica yells at the closing door. “Asshole,” she further adds, walking into the kitchen and picking up Bryant’s untouched wine that he had just poured.

  I can’t help it, I laugh, mainly because I love the dynamic between Jessica and Bryant. She keeps him on his toes, and it’s sort of cute. “How’s your day been today? Fucked any more bodyguards?” I quirk an eyebrow at her and she almost chokes on her drink.

  “You know,” she laughs after swallowing. “I pray every single day and I thank God for bringing you into our lives.”

  “Glad to be here.” We toast and then take another drink.

  “So, in all honesty, who is cooking?” she asks. “Because I know Maria isn’t here, and the cupboards are looking pretty dry.”