But not once did Chaunci complain. She smiled and encouraged Emory to ignore the media because it was in their fabric to be nasty. Besides, she knew it was all he could afford. After all, he was a blue collar Joe, who proudly ran his family’s cleaning business. The same business his grandfather had run, and his father. The same business, he told Chaunci, that he wanted their future son to one day take over. But that would be over her dead body.
Chaunci bounced the ring in her palm. It felt extremely heavy—the clunky makeup of it and the weight of one day being Emory’s wife.... Emory the son-in-law every mother wanted. A stand-up kind of guy who treated his mother well, admired his father, made an honest living, and was an honorable man with old-fashioned values. A man who played fair. Loved hard. And didn’t care whether he was wealthy or not; he just wanted enough money to pay his bills, take care of his family, and put a little away for retirement.
A rare jewel of a man whom Chaunci knew she needed to have. Hell, she’d been engaged once before and this was her third relationship in two years. She needed to get herself together, because as her mother always said, “You’re not getting any younger. And every woman needed more than one baby.”
But this wasn’t about babies.
This was about being turned on to the core. About desiring to have a man who dreamed big and fought hard to have those dreams manifested. She didn’t need a man who played fair all the damn time. Shit, there was something sexy about a man who wore a hand-sewn Italian suit, two-thousand-dollar Gucci loafers, and would slice your damn throat if you got in the way of what he wanted.
She liked those kinds of boys.
Corporate thugs who rolled dice and wagered all or nothing.
That turned her on.
Money. Arrogance. Assertiveness. And ferociousness made her cum.
Not the missionary position. Not dinner and a movie. And definitely not a clustered up bunch of thirteen flawed diamonds worth no more than three or four hundred dollars. Jesus.
But.
What she needed and what she wanted were two different things, and for once she needed to play it safe.
Chaunci slid her ring back on her finger, and as she turned over to plant a morning kiss on Emory’s lips, the doorbell rang.
Emory stretched and cracked open his eyes. “You expecting company this early?”
“No. And I’m not due to record today. Someone’s probably at the wrong door.” Chaunci tossed the covers off and reached for her terry cloth robe. She slid it on and walked into the living room. She looked at her security camera and couldn’t believe her eyes. “What in the hell?”
She opened the door.
“Consider this a rare favor because this will be my first and last time coming to get you out of bed.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re supposed to be a businesswoman. A brand. But you’ve been curled up in the covers instead of handling the financial ruins of your company. Completely unacceptable. Most definitely a wage worker’s mentality.”
This motherfucker is crazy. Chaunci’s eyes quickly raked over Grant, not once, but three times. He stood there in his light tan, hand-sewn Italian suit and Fendi loafers, looking at her as if she had two heads.
“Why are you here? And how do you know where I live? You stole my business and now you’re stalking me?”
“Stalking you? Please, what a low level crime. As you can see, anywhere I want to be I step up and make my appearance known. I don’t have time to lurk and strike. I make immediate moves. Now, it’s been a week and you haven’t been in the office at all. You haven’t called to say you were working from home. That you were sick. Or even that you were taking some time off. Perhaps this is how you got into the hole you’re in, and I have to tell you that this has to be the most unprofessional shit I’ve ever seen.”
Chaunci stood at her apartment door completely bemused. “It’s eight o’clock in the morning and the last thing I need is you at my door.”
“That’s exactly what you need, because apparently whoever is in your bed doesn’t know how to push you out of it.”
“Chaunci,” Emory called, “who was that?” He walked into the living room and spotted Grant at the door. He walked over and Grant held out his hand. “Grant Preston.”
Emory accepted Grant’s gesture and then looked over at Chaunci. “Is this the same man who stole your company?”
“Should I take that as a good morning?” Grant asked, seemingly amused.
Emory and Chaunci ignored him. “Yes. This is the hostile takeover in the flesh.”
“What the hell are you doing here?!” Emory pointed into Grant’s face. “You don’t show up here and especially at this time of the morning!”
Grant smiled and it was obvious that he was doing everything in his power not to laugh. He looked at Chaunci and squinted. “Who is this guy—your accountant? No wonder your financial judgment has been a mess!”
Emory took a step into Grant’s personal space. “Let me tell you something—”
Chaunci wedged in between them. “Emory, calm down. Please.”
“He’d better take that damn smirk off his face before I wipe the floor with his ass.”
“And we both know you’re more than qualified to wipe a floor.”
Emory pushed Chaunci to the side. She slid back in front of him. “Calm down.”
“Look, you need to go,” she said to Grant.
“Listen, if I was ever privileged to wake up next to such beauty, I’d want to defend my honor as well. However, while we’re still in the business realm I need you to put on some clothes and get to the office today. Otherwise that one percent advantage I have over you allows me to fire you.”
“And I’ll sue your ass!”
“Then I guess we’ll dance in court. But make sure you can afford to do that, because I have enough money that I will have you tangled up for years. So my advice to you is to gather your pride, slide on a power suit and stilettos, and bring your ass into the office this morning. By nine a.m.”
I should slap his damn face. “Are you done?” she asked.
“No, the question is: Are you done? Have a good day, Emory.” He turned on his heels and left them standing there, Emory with a clenched fist and Chaunci feeling a mix between pissed and intrigued.
“Ms. Morgan.” Julie ran around the counter and greeted Chaunci. “I thought I’d never see you again. I’m so glad you’re back!” She whispered, “None of us can stand Mr. Preston. Do this, Julie; copy that Julie. Julie, Julie, Julie! And then he wants you in the building at your desk at nine o’clock. Even on a Saturday. Demanding that the entire staff does mandatory overtime! He’s turned this place into a third world sweat shop. He will not allow any of the other employees to come to my desk and tell me how their night was. And lunch! He’s slaughtered it! Exactly an hour. Not one minute longer, and if you are late from lunch, he’s such a bastard. He demands to know what type of time you’re going to use. He wants no fraternizing, no personal calls on the office phone. And every time I turn around, he has more work for me to do. I have zero time to meditate. He’s such an asshole!”
“Excuse me, Julie.” Grant stepped outside his office door. “The next time you want to talk about how much of an asshole I am, you might want to be sure that your direct connect to my office isn’t turned on.”
Julie’s face turned beet red as Grant looked over at Chaunci and said, “I need to see you.” He turned around and walked into his office.
“Well, that will have to be after she sees me,” drifted over Chaunci’s shoulders.
She quickly turned around and immediately her knees felt like brittle branches. She could’ve sworn she saw a ghost.
“Ms. Morgan,” Julie said. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Chaunci hesitated. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, well, Mr. Dupree here has been to the office every day this week to see you. He says it’s extremely important.”
Xavier smiled and Chaunci gave him a nervous grin. She turned back to Julie and then looked up one side of the hallway and then the other. She no longer had an office, and at this moment she couldn’t remember where her boardroom was.
“Ms. Morgan,” Julie said, “I fixed you up a new office. Mr. Preston was such a bastard for what he did to you!”
“Julie!” Grant yelled through the intercom.
“Oh dear, he’s like the Wizard. He’s everywhere.” She pointed. “Ms. Morgan, your new office is over there.”
Chaunci followed the direction of Julie’s finger and spotted her name on the door.
“Thank you, Jules.” Chaunci nodded. “Mr. Dupree, will you follow me?”
“Sure will,” Xavier said, and as he walked behind Chaunci, his eyes soaked in everything in his path.
“After you,” Chaunci said, closing the door behind him.
Xavier walked in, sat down in the black leather wing chair, and propped his feet on the edge of Chaunci’s desk.
She knocked them off. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why the hell do you have an attitude? I tell you, you and Journee are two of the most ungrateful motherfuckers I’ve ever seen. You two bitches have gone from strippin’ hoes to living the life of Riley while my ass fought every day not to get shanked and wifed up in mess hall. And you have the nerve to be pissed with me? I’m sitting in prison for a crime we all committed and you two hos are on television, running companies, strip clubs, and are making lots and lots of money, while ten years of my life has been taken from me.”
“What. Do. You. Want?”
“Well, a little ‘hey, how are you?’ would be nice.”
“I don’t give a damn how you are! All I care about is knowing what the hell you want.”
“Not much.”
“What’s not much?”
He stroked his chin and his eyes scanned her office. “Well, seeing this nice ole office you got here, I’d say about ten million will do.”
Chaunci lost her breath. “Ten million.” She struggled to breathe. “You want ten million dollars to disappear?”
“Oh, you want me to disappear? Now that will cost you a little more. To never see my ass again, I’ll be needing at least twenty million. Cash, of course.”
Chaunci’s heart stopped. Her life flashed before her. She could’ve sworn that the room had started to spin. She cleared her throat.
“I don’t have twenty million to give you.”
“Well, you’d better figure it out. Didn’t I read somewhere that you went to college and got a damn degree? Use that motherfucker. Sell some pussy; get your ass back on the pole. Hell, you were good at that. You could always rob a bank, again. Do whatever you gotta do, but I want my money and soon!” He stood up. “Have a good day, Ms. Morgan.” He walked out of her office and Chaunci knew for sure that she was due to have a nervous breakdown at any moment.
Get it together . . .
She picked up her phone and made a call. “I need you to meet me in half an hour at the Deck in midtown.” Click.
She walked out of her office and spotted Grant giving Julie a pile of records to copy. “I need to see you,” he repeated.
Silence.
Chaunci turned her back and looked over to Julie. “Send all my calls to Mr. Preston. I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off.”
CHAPTER 28
JOURNEE
Journee slid her bumble bee Chanel’s down the bridge of her nose and placed them on the table next to her glass of white wine. She looked over at Chaunci, who marched to the table, flopped down in the booth, and said, “What the fuck is Xavier doing out of prison!”
“Ask the parole board.”
“You told me he had life!”
“I’m not the judge and jury! Shit. I wasn’t there when he was sentenced. I thought he had life. I guess I was mistaken, because he’s walking the damn streets, living in my damn house, and haunting me!”
“So you knew he was out?”
“Obviously.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“Bitch, I don’t speak to you. Remember?”
“Look, your ex-boyfriend showed up at my office demanding twenty million dollars in cash! I don’t have twenty million to give him!”
“Hell, he wants even more from me! He wants half of Zachary’s fortune—”
“That is his father!”
“That’s not my damn problem!”
“I don’t believe this.” Chaunci shook her head. “What the hell are we going to do?”
“We have to pay him.”
“I don’t have the money to pay him!”
“Then we’ll have to kill him!”
“Oh, God!”
“Either that or we go to prison because this motherfucker’s set us up and sold the feds some craziness! You know his ass is mad and ruthless.”
“We can’t kill him.” Chaunci shook her head.
“Then what are we going to do?”
“Pay his ass.” Chaunci stood up. “I need to go.”
“Where?”
“To get some damn money.” She stormed out, practically knocking the waitress over on her way to the door.
Journee sat and sipped the rest of her wine. She fiddled with her cell phone before dialing a number. “Hey, I need you to arrange something for me.”
CHAPTER 29
CHAUNCI
“You wanted to see me.” Chaunci walked into Grant’s office, placing her purse on the edge of his desk.
“I should fire you; you know that.” He leaned back in his black leather chair.
“Please do, so that I can sue your ass. I could use the money. Now what do you want?”
“I’m not sure how to answer that. Should I start with the business and end with the personal?”
“Personal? And what would that be?”
“That I want you. I thought that would be obvious.”
“Never. Now you may have bought this company, but my ass didn’t come with it. Now. What. Is. It?”
“So let’s start with business. We need to pull Nubian Diva from the stands.”
“What?”
“We need to make it an online magazine only.”
“Hell no.”
“It’s not making any money in print. All of the money is made from the sponsors on the electronic version.”
“No.”
“The cost to print the magazine far exceeds the profit. I don’t see any other way to turn this around. Also, Morgan Financial needs to become a quarterly magazine as opposed to a monthly one. And those book deals you were negotiating—off the table.”
“What?”
“Oh, and we need to fire Julie.”
Chaunci tapped the soles of her shoes on the carpet. “I tell you what—do whatever you want to do; obviously I don’t have any power anymore.” She sat back in her chair.
“I’m trying to include you.”
“You’re trying to include me in your hostile takeover of my company? Hilarious.”
“Listen—”
“No, you listen. Just buy me out. I’ll sell you my forty-nine percent and the entire company will be all yours.”
“And why would I want to buy you out?”
“Because we will never be able to work together. I can guarantee you that I will be the nastiest bitch you’ve ever seen. So just buy my shares and let me walk away free and clear.”
“You got it.” Grant pulled twenty dollars from his wallet and slapped it on his desk. “There you go.”
Chaunci was stunned. “Are you crazy? Twenty dollars? What are you trying to do, insult my intelligence?”
“You’re trying to insult mine. You tore this damn company up making piss poor decisions. Perhaps instead of being on a reality show, you should’ve been present in your reality and dealing with your company. Now you want me to buy you out. So here you go.” He stabbed an index finger into the money. “Take the twenty dollars and
leave.”
“It’s taking everything in me not to haul off and slap the shit out of you.”
“Aggressive. I like that.” He smiled. “So does that mean you’d want your hair pulled when I hit it from the back?”
“Fuck you!”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. That’s the point of it all. Now if you seriously want me to buy you out, then you and I could go away for a night, have the time of our lives, and who knows, by the end of the night, let’s see what we can arrange.”
“So you think I’m a whore? That’s what you think this is?”
“A whore?” He frowned. “A whore is a lowlife with low standards and absolutely no money.”
Chaunci walked over to Grant and sat on his lap. She stroked his face and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You are fine as hell. I’ll give you that. And this package that I’m sitting on seems to defy the white boy myth, that’s for sure. But you will never ever hit this from the back or otherwise.” She stood up. “Good day, Mr. Preston.” She walked out of his office and quickly doubled back. “And, no, you cannot fire Julie!”
CHAPTER 30
BRIDGET
A Month Later
“The exclusive club Noir Amour was filled wall to wall with A-list celebrities, athletes, a multitude of reporters, bloggers, and of course, Millionaire Wives Club cameras were there to capture the night.
“Ladies.” I walked over to Jaise, Vera, and Rowanda. “I have to say, I’m surprised you two came. Say something to the camera for me please. Let’s start with you Rowanda.” Carl zoomed in. Rowanda smiled and it was beyond obvious that she was not ready for prime time. “I’m just happy to be here.” She nervously shifted her eyes. “This is a beautiful club and I think we’re going to have a fabulous time tonight.”
“And you, Vera?” I said.
Vera popped her lips and looked directly into the camera. “I only came because I’m contracted to be here.” Vera cocked her neck to the right for emphasis.
“Well”—Jaise batted her lashes—“I’m here because I always try to be the bigger person.”
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