Slow Release (Ebony and Ivory Book 1)

by Steele, Suzanne

  “Yes, she is lovely.”

  My skin crawled as he undressed me with his eyes and licked his lips while doing so.

  “You son of a bitch!” Damon’s fist crashed down on the man’s face, sending him to the concrete and forcing him to scramble backwards to escape another assault. He looked so odd sprawled out on the pavement, wearing his high dollar suit and Rolex watch.

  “This isn’t over, Damon. I’m coming for you when you least expect it, and anyone who is with you is fair game,” the boyfriend yelled. He then directed his attention towards me. “If I were you, I’d get away from him before you get caught in the line of fire. He has a lot of enemies, and you’re putting your career and your life in danger by being with him.”

  I watched in horror as Damon lunged for him again. The only thing stopping another assault was Jerome’s large hand grabbing Damon’s arm and quickly pulling him into the studio. I heard him speak just as the door closed. “He isn’t worth it, Damon.”

  I quickly did my part and helped usher him back to the private dressing room. I seated him in a chair and poured him a glass of water from the crystal carafe while we waited for him to calm down.

  “Jealous ex-girlfriend?”

  “No, she used to work for me, and the agent who was with her stole her. I have no problem if a model wants to leave my agency, but doing it while she’s under contract, and suing me to try and get out of said contract, isn’t cool. I don’t do business like that.”

  “Well, it’s obvious they’re both a little crazy by the way they just conducted themselves.”

  “Just stay away from them, both of them,” he answered. After the way they acted, I had no intention of ever seeing either one of them again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Damon

  I waited until we were back home and I was alone in my office before I let the full impact of dealing with Malik and Kiara hit me. I knew it would be good for me to bounce things off my bodyguard and best friend, like a purging of sorts, so I called him in. I had some questions I needed to run by him as well.

  “Did you see the way that son of a bitch was looking at my Skye?”

  “Damon, Malik feeds off drama. He lives to stir shit up. You know how he is. He wanted to piss you off.”

  “Well, I’d say he succeeded.” I took a moment to look at my friend seriously. I needed his input. “Do you think he’s responsible for sending that note?”

  I watched as Jerome slowly shook his head. “I don’t get that kind of vibe from him. Like I said, he’s dramatic. I think he’s more the underhanded, sneaky type. It’s like he gets off on deceptively undermining people and then reveling in his victory. I really wonder about people like that. There must be something not wired right in them psychologically to get off on that shit.”

  I chuckled, “He reminds me of a weasel. I do much better with people who are straight up about hating me. These sneaky types…” I slowly shook my head and continued, “I just wanted to make his face part of the concrete, and that’s not good.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here, Damon. You always have had a bad temper, explosive to be exact. You need somebody watching your back.”

  A knock interrupted our conversation, and Ms. Stratton opened the door. She quietly made her way in and laid a manila envelope on my desk. “This was delivered for you, sir.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Stratton.” She quietly left, apologizing for the intrusion.

  “Don’t touch that,” Jerome ordered as he reached over with a gloved hand and picked up the envelope.

  I leaned back in my chair, interlocking my fingers behind my neck, and allowed him to do his job. I watched as he sliced the envelope open with precision, using one of the letter openers I had out on my desk. The tone of his voice clearly revealed it wasn’t good news.

  “We’re going to have to tell her, and I’ll get a rush on the hacking job we’ve got Marcus doing.”

  “Let. Me. See.”

  One by one, he tossed me the 8x10 glossies. Each picture was of Skye, and each one had the eyes gouged out. The last picture, which was the most ominous of the stack, had red ink clearly stating the intent of whoever was doing this. I stared at the words, Dead Bitch! written across her beautiful face and was overcome with rage.

  In that moment, things got very real. Now, I knew this wasn’t just some jealous model venting. This was someone who I feared, for some reason, wasn’t going to stop until Skye was laid out on a slab in the morgue.

  It wasn’t uncommon for me to get 8x10 glossies. Any photographer I’d ever worked with knew to send them. Where most agents would settle for seeing the digital image on a computer screen, I wanted to see what the actual magazine layout would look like.

  I pushed the button on the security system that allowed me to speak to my maid without calling her back into my office. “Ms. Stratton, who delivered that envelope?”

  “It was on the doorstep when I came in this morning.”

  “Very good, that will be all.”

  “Is everything okay, sir?”

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” I lied, directing my attention back to Jerome.

  “Finding out who sent these isn’t going to be an easy task. These images have been sent out to other photographers and various magazines. Any number of people could have gotten their hands on them.”

  “We’re looking at models, photogs, hell, even reporters under the right circumstances.”

  “She isn’t famous enough to draw paparazzi,” I concluded.

  “That’s what makes me think this is personal, Damon. I think it’s time for you to accept the fact that someone your woman doesn’t know, knows her.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Skye

  I headed down to Damon’s office immediately after he called for me over the mansion’s security system. As soon as I entered, I took note of how thick the tension was in the room. Both men looked anxious, and I immediately knew something horrible must have happened.

  “Sit,” Daman instructed waving his hand towards the large leather chair next to Jerome.

  “What’s going on, guys?” He answered my question with one of his own.

  “Have you ever had a problem with anyone following you? Think, Skye, it’s important. Even in Haiti, was there ever an incident of someone stalking you?”

  I chuckled, but it wasn’t due to humor. It was a nervous reaction to the thought that someone might have been following me, and I was completely clueless.

  “The men in my country don’t do things like that. If they want a woman, they make it known. To sneak around in the shadows would be considered a sign of weakness. They’re too macho for that.”

  At that point, Jerome cut in, “It may not be a man; it could be a woman. Have you ever had a woman who acted like she wanted your life?”

  That did make me laugh before I answered him. “Yeah, everybody wants to live in a hut with Haitian brown tarantulas greeting them on the doorstep.”

  “Well, I get that. The thing about it is that stalkers are on a different plane psychologically. Many times, they’re dealing with mental issues you and I don’t understand. Once they fixate on someone, they become obsessed. They convince themselves their victim is in a relationship with them. When the object of their obsession doesn’t respond in a way they believe is appropriate, things can get very ugly very quickly.”

  I looked at him in disbelief. “Are you telling me there is a man out there—a complete stranger to me—who believes he is in love with me, and if I don’t return those sentiments, my life is in danger?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. The thing that has me baffled is how this guy found you. You don’t recall anyone stalking you in Haiti, and stalkers normally make their presence known just to have the advantage that comes with inspiring fear in their victims. You haven’t hit the cover of any magazine here yet, so I don’t think it’s a celebrity stalker. I believe it’s either someone with a personal vendetta against you or, perhaps, even someone who
has a beef with Damon.” He laughed as he made his next statement. “I can understand Damon having enemies, but you? I just don’t get it.”

  At that point in the conversation, Damon cut in, “Skye, I don’t want you out of my sight, and when you are, you’re only to go out accompanied by Jerome. I won’t apologize for my possessive nature concerning you, and I most certainly won’t tolerate my woman being in danger. If something were to happen to you because I wasn’t on top of my game, I would never be able to live with myself.”

  I was quickly learning Damon wasn’t going to change for anybody. Luckily, his over the top alpha demeanor didn’t really bother me. I was strong enough to stand up to him if need be. I came from a culture where overly macho men were the norm, so I didn’t find Damon’s behavior to be any different than what I was used to seeing. For me, it was normal, and though I wasn’t in the habit of letting a man step in and take control of my life, this was a unique set of circumstances. I welcomed Damon’s overprotectiveness because I trusted him as my boyfriend and my boss. The career path I had chosen was one that had to be navigated with care. I’d been thrown into shark-infested waters, and Damon was the only person I knew who could show me how to not get eaten alive. What girl wouldn’t welcome that? In this situation, I don’t believe that relinquishing control to Damon made me weak. No, it made me strong. As a team, we would have a much better chance at success and survival. I knew, in my heart of hearts, if someone tried to hurt me, or even my family, Damon would kill him. I felt no remorse about this because it wasn’t just me I had to be concerned about. I had to look after my mother and siblings in Haiti. If someone put them in harm’s way, Damon wouldn’t have to hurt them because I would. The same way he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to me, I couldn’t live with myself if my family got hurt.

  “I want protection for my family in Haiti. If someone tries to hurt them, shoot to kill.” I directed my next statement solely to Damon. “Whatever connections you have overseas, go ahead and use them because if some stalker tries to hurt my mother or one of my brothers or sisters, I’ll kill the guy myself…”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Stalker

  “It’s amazing to me how, at times, real life can be stranger than fiction. I’ve had this need to eliminate my competition, Damon, and then this beautiful creature enters the picture.”

  I shuffled through the pictures of the woman with blue eyes that had me so intrigued. Of course, the set I kept for myself remained pristine and unmarred. She looked so innocent. It was sad she walked into harm’s way, never knowing she could suffer harm or, worse yet, be killed just for hooking up with my nemesis. I really didn’t want to hurt her, and my feelings for her were making it much more difficult to use her to hurt Damon. He always seemed to be with her, protecting her and watching over her. If I didn’t know any better, I would say his level of obsession was no different than mine. Damon D’Angelo was a stalker at heart when it came to the beautiful, dark skinned, blue-eyed model. I was going to have to hurt him without her knowing I was the one responsible. I couldn’t take a chance that she’d end up hating me because I killed the love of her life.

  My obsession with her had nothing to do with sex. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I had an innate need to protect her from the viper who was Damon. He would hurt her. It might not be today or even tomorrow, but sooner or later, he would hurt her. Damon wasn’t the type of man who would stay with just one woman. No doubt, the newness would eventually wear off, and I would be there when it did to make him pay for his arrogance. This man, who thought he could have any woman he wanted and then toss them away like trash, needed to be taught a lesson, and I was just the person to do it.

  I was going to make him pay for every woman he’d scorned, every account he’d stolen, and every cover he’d wrenched from a model’s hopeful hands. I’ve seen him break hearts and shatter dreams like they were nothing. The pompous bastard needed to recompense for his sins of the past, and I was going to be the one making him pay.

  I wasn’t just obsessed with her; I was just as obsessed with him. With her, it was a need to protect, but with him, it was a deep-seated hatred for everything he stood for. There was nothing I despised more than Damon D’Angelo. Unfortunately, as badly as I didn’t want her getting in my line of fire, if taking her out would hurt him—and I knew it would—then I was prepared to do that. The military had a perfect name for it. She was just another casualty of war. Sometimes, innocent people have to suffer for the greater good. Skye could very well find herself in that position before it was all said and done. Now that I’ve come to have feelings for her, I would try to accomplish my mission without affecting her, but I couldn’t guarantee that would be the outcome. Fate always had an odd way of intervening. It brought her into my life, and in its cruel and twisted way, fate could just as easily take her away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Damon

  As badly as I wanted to lay the blame for the danger Skye was in solely at the crazed stalker’s feet, I couldn’t help but shoulder some of the responsibility.

  In my arrogance, I’d done some pretty shitty things in the past. Though I was always honest about avoiding emotional connections, I should have been aware most women don’t just fuck without forming some kind of bond.

  It was true they were using me too, but now it might be that my past sexual escapades were putting the one woman I do love in danger. It seemed so unfair that Skye should be punished for things I did before I met her. I really believed that this stalker she was being forced to deal with was an enemy of mine, not hers. I couldn’t imagine anyone having that kind of vendetta against a woman who’d just made her debut on the modeling scene. Though models could be vindictive, most just didn’t have the resources to set up this elaborate of a deceptive ruse.

  How fucked up was it that the one time in my life I was willing to settle down with a woman, it was being sabotaged by some crazed stalker? I couldn’t count how many times I had tried to figure out who the perpetrator was. I was ashamed of the number of enemies I had, making it impossible to nail it down to just one. I felt like, because of the viciousness of the letters and packages being sent, that it had to be a woman. When it came to deception and vengeance, women far outmaneuvered men. However, I always came back to the same question. What woman did I know who had the means and resources to pull something off this calculated?

  Part of me was tempted to give Skye an out just to keep her safe. I could always offer her the option of going back to Haiti. I could still take her and her family under my wing from a distance.

  With all my responsibilities here in the states, there was no way I could go with her if she chose to go back though. Was I being selfish by keeping her here when I knew she was in danger of being hurt by one of my enemies?

  As much as my head told me the safest thing to do was to send her back to Haiti and get her out of harm’s way, my heart wasn’t listening. Just the thought of not having her body next to mine in bed at night caused a violent twisting in my gut and was more than I could tolerate. I would just have to protect her here.

  This was the first time I could ever remember being in physical pain at the thought of losing a woman. I was a man undone. I didn’t care how crazy I had to be to keep her. I would do whatever it took.

  If it meant I had to stalk her myself, obsessing over her and never letting her out of my sight, then fuck it. I was crazy. I knew in my soul that as crazy as I was to keep her, I would be even more insane if I ever lost her. The more I agonized over my decision, the more I realized the crazed stalker and I had much more in common than I cared to admit. We were both obsessed with the same woman, and we were both willing to cross the lines of sanity if it meant having her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Skye

  There was something I didn’t reveal to Damon and Jerome when we had the discussion in the office, and the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. I still had a father out there somewhere who’d
gone AWOL. What if he got wind of my newfound success and decided he wanted a piece of the pie?

  When you came from nothing, money did strange things to a person. It changed you, and no one was immune to the lure of it. It could be for better or worse, but once you were tempted with the prospect of attaining it, you changed. If you came from poverty, it was easy to justify using deception to obtain it. My father had never been a man of high morals, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try and strong arm me to gain access to my newfound success.

  I wasn’t exempt from the changes success brought; I can already see how money has changed me. I made a conscious decision to let it change me for the better by helping my mother and younger brothers and sisters.

  What if my father got wind of just how well off my boyfriend was, and he planned to use me to get to Damon’s millions. The thought that I could be the cause of Damon being in any kind of danger appalled me.

  I wasn’t in the habit of using anyone to get anything. I had worked for a living all my life. I didn’t mention my biological father was a possibility because, to be honest, it was embarrassing.

  The whole time I was growing up, he treated us like we were dirt. I remembered how, when he was there, he drank away every dime of money my mother made cleaning rich people’s toilets. I could still vividly remember all the nights she had to go down to the bar and pull him off some hussy he was buying drinks for with her hard-earned money.

  The best thing he had ever done for us was walk out of our lives. If he was trying to come back for greedy gain, slithering around like the snake he was, I was going to be beyond pissed.

  I was embarrassed that my worthless father might be the one causing problems. Even though I was ashamed to tell Damon what I suspected, I needed him to find out where my father had gone when he disappeared. I felt like I was forced between two decisions, and neither was one I wanted to make.