Scandalicious: A Novel

by Allison Hobbs

  “Daddy. Are you awake?”

  Lincoln opened his eyes and smiled at his daughter’s face. “I am now.”

  “Mommy slept in my room last night…how come?”

  Lincoln searched his mind for a convenient lie, but couldn’t find one on such a short notice. “Sweetie…” Lincoln cleared his throat. “Mommy and Daddy are having problems, and we’re not going to be able to work them out.”

  Tori wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Are you getting a divorce?”

  “Probably.” He nodded his head. “Yes, sweetheart. More than likely.”

  “When?” she asked, sounding panicked.

  Lincoln sat up. He peered intently at his pajama-clad daughter. “I don’t know, Tori. Getting a divorce can be a lengthy process. But I don’t want you to worry about it. Mommy and Daddy both love you and Amir. That’s never going to stop.”

  “Am I going to have a stepmother?” she asked with horror.

  Lincoln chuckled. “Maybe someday—but not any time soon.”

  Amir entered the bedroom next, with a troubled expression. “Go downstairs and eat breakfast, Tori.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Get a move-on!” Amir insisted, using his mother’s phrase.

  “Go eat breakfast, Tori,” Lincoln intervened.

  “Okay, Daddy.” Tori scampered out of the bedroom, apparently relieved that her young world wasn’t going to instantly collapse.

  “Mommy was crying,” Amir said accusingly.

  “Your mother and I are having a lot of problems, and she’s upset.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “Serious problems. We’re headed for a divorce, son.”

  Amir flinched. More sensitive than his little sister, tears welled in Amir’s eyes.

  “We’re all going to get through this, somehow. It’s going to be all right, man. I promise you.”

  “But I don’t want you to leave us.”

  “I’m going to have to—eventually. But that won’t be for awhile. It’s going to be tense around here, until I get my own place. I’m going to do everything in my power to make the transition easy on you and your sister. I love you, son. You know that, right?”

  Amir nodded, while tears streamed down his cheeks.

  CHAPTER 51

  Eighteen Months Later

  It was only due to his high spirits that Lincoln didn’t groan when he paid the extravagant monthly parking fee. He walked the next block and a half, taking in the sights of the neighborhood.

  The past year and a half had been the hardest time of Lincoln’s life. Divorced now, he had finally found it in his heart to forgive Chevonne. She was the mother of his children, and he felt great relief that he was finally able to let go of his deep resentment toward her.

  She’d cut all ties with that ruthless thug, Raheem. Lincoln had threatened to go after full custody of the kids, if she didn’t. Now she had a new man. She went from a thug to a suit; her new love interest was a city official. Lincoln didn’t like him very much; he was a smug prick, but at least Chevonne’s new man wasn’t psychopath—he wouldn’t be a bad influence on his children.

  Parenting his kids on a part-time basis would take some getting used to. He and Chevonne shared joint custody, and they were all still learning to cope with the changes that had occurred in their lives. Logistically, picking up and dropping off the kids, was a little problematic, but he had no choice but to make it work.

  Lincoln put the key in the lock of his newly leased loft-style office. Located in the historic, Old City section of downtown Philadelphia, the place made a great statement to Lincoln’s clients. With a smile of satisfaction, he surveyed the high ceilings, hardwood floors, and exposed brick walls.

  Wow, I did it! A leap of faith had brought miracles his way. He finally was able to let go of fear and hesitation, and made bold moves—something he should have done years ago.

  He’d left Clemmons and Associates at exactly the right time. It turned out that Amber was far more devious than Lincoln had imagined. She sued Frank for sexual harassment and won a huge settlement. Frank’s wife filed for a divorce. With mounting legal debt, Frank sold the business.

  Lincoln gazed through one of the large windows. Peering down on busy Arch Street, he was so grateful for this new beginning. A year ago, he’d started accepting architectural consulting jobs, many of which came from Solay’s business contacts. And amazingly, even his ex-wife had assisted, hooking him up with her city connections.

  The realtor had shown him every detail of the ultra-modern space; now Lincoln was delighted to wander around the empty space on his own. He found his way to the full kitchen with an island that separated that room from the office area.

  The large space contained an inner office reception area, and huge flex-space that could accommodate multiple workstations. The apprentice that would be working under him would have a lot of room to move around. Once his business grew, he would hire other consultants and expand his business.

  Everything in his life was changing for the better. Although he and Solay had both been afraid of getting hurt, somehow they’d made their relationship work. Solay had trust issues and so did he, and so they’d taken only baby steps, never making big demands of each other.

  Their strong sexual attraction had blossomed into friendship—and finally—love. For seven months, Lincoln had been staying at Solay’s apartment, without officially moving in. Now he wanted to make it more than merely “official.” He was prepared to take it to the next level—get married and buy a home. Though he was ready, he would never rush Solay. If she ever wanted to settle down and make it official, she wouldn’t have to ask him twice.

  This had been a month of big changes: the opening of Solay’s second cupcake shop and Lincoln’s architectural firm. The deck had been stacked against Lincoln and Solay—two brokenhearted souls. Who would have thought that a rebound relationship could actually work?

  After he’d check out the space a few more times, there wasn’t much to do, except wait for Solay. She’d insisted that it would bring good luck if she and Lincoln “christened” the place before the furniture arrived.

  He called her cell. “Hey, baby, are you standing me up? Where are you? I can’t wait for you to see the space.”

  “I’m stuck in traffic, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Solay didn’t sound very happy; in fact, she sounded distraught.

  “This is supposed to be a day of celebration…why do you sound like you’ve been crying?”

  “Because I have.”

  “Why, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

  “Tears of joy, Lincoln. Everything is changing for us. So fast, it’s amazing. It’s so unreal. I’m ecstatic that I can finally put the past behind me, and move full-speed ahead with you.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I’m positive, Lincoln. I love you, and I’m on my way.”

  “I love you, too. Drive safe, baby.”

  It was an action flick…not a tearjerker, yet Solay’s purse was filled with tissues, just in case. She spotted a lone seat at the far end of the very last row. She had to squeeze past a row of people, muttering, “Excuse me. Sorry. Beg your pardon,” until she reached the prized seat.

  Sitting in the back of the movie theater offered a small degree of privacy.

  As soon as the opening credits began to roll, Solay braced herself for a big emotional response. She gasped and began weeping when Deon’s name appeared on the screen. Damn, he really did it! She hadn’t believed in him and her doubt had cost her dearly.

  Five minutes into the movie—there he was, living out his dream. His scene opened with Deon in swimwear, lounging by a pool, wearing a pair of dark shades.

  The female movie-goers began howling and clapping the moment the camera panned in on his ripped stomach and broad chest. Deon removed his shades, and the women in the theater emitted lustful roars when they got an close-up view of his handsome face.

  Deon was
playing the part of a serial killer, who preyed on rich women that he met while parking their cars at a posh Beverly Hills restaurant, where he worked as a valet.

  He was stunning on screen, exuding charm that mesmerized. Deon had once told Solay that he was a natural, and he was so right. He was working his role as if he’d been performing on the big screen his whole life.

  The starring role in the film was played by Ian Shelby. He played the tortured detective that was continually taunted and outwitted by the serial killer. Ian Shelby was a Hollywood actor that commanded stop salary. His willingness to lend his name to a small, independent project had given the film credibility.

  Deon was costarring with a Hollywood heavyweight, and holding his own. Without a doubt, casting directors would be sending him scripts and big-money offers.

  At the end of the film, Deon’s character was hit by a barrage of bullets, and Solay boo-hooed as if the real Deon had been murdered. As her tears fell, she realized that she was crying over Deon’s untimely departure from her life.

  Seeing him on the big screen was actually cathartic. Observing him being murdered, albeit on screen, gave her a morbid kind of closure. Deon had moved on a long time ago, and he’d never looked back. It was time for Solay to release him, and move forward with her life.

  Lincoln was waiting for her. And she was ready for him. Solay and Lincoln had a clean slate—no lingering animosity, no infidelities, no resentment. What they shared was respect, faith, and love. Their pressure-free “friends with benefits” relationship had blossomed into something beautiful and real.

  Traffic on Walnut Street was bumper to bumper. She groped through her pocketbook when her cell rang. It was Lincoln, asking if she’d stood him up.

  “No,” she assured him.

  While talking to Lincoln, she drove past her newest location, Scandalicious II, on Spruce Street in the Penn campus area. Both Penn and Drexel University students flocked to the cupcake shop, and were spreading the word. During finals and mid-terms, the students hung out at Scandalicious for so many hours, getting their sugar rush and drinking coffee, she had to extend her hours to midnight.

  Life was extremely good.

  Even Melanee had made big changes in her life. She was doing her own thing. She’d left Scandalicious a few months ago and was now baking sensual delights for private parties. Melanee had been extremely vague when Solay questioned her about her new endeavor. Oh, well. What the heck? That’s Melanee for you—always sneaky and secretive. She sounded happy, and that’s all that really mattered.

  Vidal was running things at Scandalicious II. He was still a smart-mouth pain in the ass, but the college crowd adored him.

  Solay arrived at Lincoln’s new office space, and found him waiting for her downstairs.

  He took one look at her, puckered his lips and whistled. “You’re looking good in that skirt, showing off those pretty legs,” he said, acknowledging her short paisley-print skirt.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” Solay said, revealing a generous grin.

  Holding hands, they walked the flight of stairs that led to his new office. “This place is huge,” she said as they entered. “It’s gorgeous! I can see why you fell in love with this spot.”

  Lincoln excitedly showed her where he was going to put his desk, and then he waved his hand to the rear of the big, open space. “Until I hire a couple of consultants, my apprentice is going to have all that space in the back.”

  After Lincoln finished giving Solay the grand tour, he drew her into his arms. “I couldn’t have accomplished this without you.”

  “We’re good together.” She lifted her mouth to his. Closing her eyes dreamily, she enjoyed the feel of Lincoln’s lips and the strong arms that embraced her. She pulled away from the kiss. “Hey, we’re supposed to be celebrating—drinking champagne and sexing up this place. Where’s the blanket, candles, and the bubbly?”

  Lincoln smiled embarrassedly. “As soon as the Realtor handed me the keys, I rushed right over. Baby, I forgot everything. We can’t lie on this hard floor.”

  Solay frowned in disappointment.

  “Can I get a rain check?” he asked, with a sneaky smile. “Remember when you gave me that line?” he reminded her.

  “Back then, I wasn’t being honest with myself. Even though you were married at the time, I saw something in you that was so real, it scared me.”

  “You don’t have to feel that way ever again.”

  “I know,” she said, nodding. “But I don’t want a rain check. I wore this skirt just for the occasion. I’m not taking no for an answer; we’re gonna celebrate right now.”

  Lincoln looked around, as if hoping that a blanket had magically appeared.

  “We don’t need a blanket, baby. Where’s your imagination?” Solay motioned toward the kitchen.

  “Oh,” Lincoln said, catching on to the plan.

  In the kitchen, Lincoln lifted Solay onto the island. She pulled up her skirt, and spread her legs, revealing her crotchless thong.

  “Baby, whatchu doing to me?” He swiped a finger along the seam of her folds, and brought his finger to his lips. “Mmm,” he murmured, licking her taste from his finger.

  Her hand wriggled down to his belt buckle, tugged on it, and pulled it loose, and she deftly undid his fly. Lincoln groaned when Solay grabbed his thick, hard shaft, and began stroking it until his dick quivered and throbbed in her hand.

  “Hold up; hold up,” Lincoln urged as he kicked off his shoes and took off his pants.

  Solay sent her skirt and thong floating down; she watched as her garments landed in a soft pile next to Lincoln’s pants.

  He wasted no time covering Solay with his yearning body.

  She groped for his thickness, and guided him to her sweet opening, rubbing it up and down, getting her juices to flow like a river.

  Solay let out a sharp gasping moan as she felt his tip nudging and pushing until his length and girth completely filled her.

  She cupped his face, and stared into his eyes. “This is real, Lincoln. You’re the perfect man for me—the one that I’ve been waiting for.”

  “I’m all in,” he panted as he delivered gentle thrusts. “I’m talking about the whole nine…church, chapel…whatever, baby. The house in the suburbs. If that’s what you want, you can have it.”

  “I do want all that…and more.”

  “What else? Name it.”

  “I want to have your baby.”

  His pace quickened. “We can work on that right now,” he gasped.

  Following his words with actions, Lincoln gripped her hips as he drove between her luscious folds.

  Solay drew in a sharp breath as she was hit with wave after wave of pleasure. Deeply entrenched inside her, Lincoln shuddered and then released his seed in a titanic burst of passion.

  “Solay,” he uttered her name, his body quivering.

  “Yeah, baby?” Her voice was a satisfied whimper.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “You said you wanted a baby—I think I messed around and made a set of triplets.”

  “You’re so silly,” Solay said, laughing. “And so sweet. That’s why I love you.”

  “And I love you more,” Lincoln said, gathering her into his arms.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Allison Hobbs is a national bestselling author of sixteen novels and has been featured in such periodicals as Romantic Times and The Philadelphia Tribune. She lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Visit the author at www.allisonhobbs.com and Facebook.com/Allison Hobbs.

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  CHAPTER 1

  Call it a woman’s intuition. Call it a sixth sense, but instead of driving home after work, Nivea felt an urge to swing by her fiancé’s old apartment.
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br />   When she rolled up in front of the building where Eric used to live, she gave the place a smug look. Eric’s former apartment building was a dump. She had no idea why he’d been so resistant to the idea of moving into her upscale townhouse.

  But that was water over the bridge. She had introduced Eric to a better lifestyle and she was proud of that fact.

  Nivea did a double take when she noticed the Highlander parked at the curb. Her heart rate began to accelerate when she recognized Eric’s license plate. What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to be working overtime.

  With the motor running, she jumped out of her Mazda and removed a couple of lawn chairs that were holding someone’s nicely shoveled parking spot. Brows joined together in bafflement, she parallel parked, cut the engine, and then got out.

  Nivea peered up at the second floor apartment that Eric had left six months ago when he’d moved in with her. She could see the twinkling colored lights that adorned a Christmas tree. She frowned at the Christmas tree. It was the first day of December, too soon to put up a tree in Nivea’s opinion.

  Eric had sublet the place to one of his unmarried friends. Which one? She couldn’t remember. Feeling a rush of uncomfortable heat, she unbuttoned her wool coat, allowing the frigid evening air to cool her.

  There had to be a good explanation for Eric being here. Something really innocent. He didn’t have to work overtime after all, and decided to stop by and visit his buddy, she told herself.

  Even though moving into Nivea’s townhouse was a step up for Eric, it had been hard convincing him to give up his crappy bachelor’s pad. She was so elated when she’d gotten him to agree to move in, that she hadn’t bothered to question him about the details of his rental transaction.

  But she was concerned now.

  Carefully, Nivea climbed the icy concrete steps that led to the front door. Inside the vestibule area, another door, this one locked, prevented her from forcing her way to Eric’s old apartment. She read the name that was centered above the doorbell of apartment number two: D. Alston.