Coup: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 2)

by Brooklyn Knight

  “She expressed an interest in diversifying her portfolio and wanted to know if we could help her acquire a particular amount of Hamilton Associates’ public shares.”

  Dylan’s eyes fluttered.

  McHardy shrugged. “A few of us were... feeling generous,” he said, “and so we made an agreement with Miss Renaud.”

  All eyes shifted on me.

  “And what agreement was that?” Brenneman demanded.

  “I purchase a few shares and we join forces,” I answered.

  Michael’s jaw jerked. “You did what?”

  “What, exactly, is a few?” Brockton demanded, almost at the same time.

  “Thirty per cent of the public shares.” I couldn’t keep the smirk off my face.

  The sound of a pin dropping would have been thunderous.

  Michael boiled in his seat.

  McHardy picked up where I’d left off. “So! By the time you add her modest purchase to what we own, the five of us, including Dylan Hamilton and Max Carter, will control more than the three of you.”

  “And, of course, because there are fewer public shares left, Mr. Sawyer will be unable to counter this move,” I added, just in case the point had been overshadowed.

  Max slapped his palm against his head and withered in his seat.

  Instantly, mutters of shock and disapproval rose to the fore, but Dylan stared at me from across the table, his eyes shining with thick emotion.

  Max called for order, but it was no use.

  Chaos erupted in the boardroom.

  Michael jumped to his feet, facing me, and grabbed my arm aggressively, but Dylan shot up to match him, nearly lunging across the table.

  “I dare you to touch her again,” he growled through his teeth. “I swear to god I’ll finish what I started a month ago.”

  I ripped my arm out of Michael’s hand and adjusted my sleeve.

  “What the hell have you done?” he barked in my face. His mouth twisted. “You can’t do this!”

  “She can do whatever the hell she wants,” Sasha informed him. A flame replaced her pupils.

  “You helped her to do this!”

  “Yes, I did,” she admitted. “You tried to take down a sister, and I’ll never be a part of that.”

  He glared down on her, his entire body quaking. The breath from his nostrils was so ferocious, it almost made her thick goddess braids shift.

  She rolled her eyes up at him, unmoved by his threatening posture. She flicked a braid over her shoulder. “All of the paperwork has been processed,” she informed him. “While you were out plotting against Dylan Hamilton and trying to get Laila to turn on him, we were working our own plan.” She shrugged. “It seems as though the Triple-A came in handy, yet again.”

  “I trusted you.” His voice shook.

  “I told you I’d be standing next to you when the best man won,” I reminded him. “I kept my promise.”

  “You’re siding with this white devil over me?” His tone was low and menacing.

  My body tensed. “Michael, there are several devils around this table and I can assure you, Dylan Hamilton isn’t one of them.”

  “You stupid bitch,” Michael spat, before cocking his hand back and laying a ringing slap across my face. My head flung to the side as I tumbled to the ground. An immediate commotion erupted somewhere in the distance, but soon the muffled sounds faded, and my vision blurred until all I saw was black.

  Thirty-Four

  Laila

  ‘Let It Go’

  I blinked a few times and the glare from a blinding light made my eyes squint. I lifted my arm to shield my eyes and suddenly a vision of Dylan flying through the boardroom, rage and malice plastered over his face, exploded into my consciousness. I popped up, trying to get my bearings as fear strangled me.

  “Dylan!” I cried out his name.

  Sasha hopped out of the chair she’d been sitting in, and Stella fled from a corner of the room until she was next to where I was laying on a settee in the board room. The room was in shambles. Chairs laid haphazardly across the room. A mess of water streaked across the oak coffee table, turning the surface a pale white, and the crystal pitcher it had been in, laid in splinters on the carpet. Files and documents were littered across the floor, as if it had been raining paperwork.

  The place was all but deserted. Stella’s eyes were red and swollen, like she’d been crying for hours. I tried to remember what had happened, but it was no use.

  Sasha eased me back onto the couch and ran a trembling hand down the side of my face. “Oh my god...” she moaned. “Look what that asshole did to your face.”

  “Sasha, where’s Dylan?”

  “Girl, lay yourself back down. You need to take it easy.”

  I pushed her away from me and threw my legs over the edge of the couch. “Is he in his office? I need to see him.” I rushed towards the door, but stumbled a little, feeling dizzy.

  Sasha grabbed me by the shoulders. “Laila, Dylan is in a holding cell at the police station.”

  I froze. “Holding cell? What do you mean?”

  “Girl, you should have seen the way he manhandled Michael after he had the audacity to lay his hands on you. It was a mess; one of the scariest scenes I’ve witnessed in a long time, and I was born and raised in the hood, you hear me?” Sasha grimaced as distress passed over her face. “It was bad, girl. Someone called the police and pressed assault charges.”

  I pressed my hand against my heaving chest.

  Stella touched my arm. “But don’t worry,” she advised. “Max and a few others headed there, but the way he pulled out of the parking lot, I wouldn’t be surprised if he got stopped for speeding and never made it.”

  I headed for the door, ignoring Sasha’s advice and my swirling mind and emotions. “I need to get to the police station,” I stuttered. I gripped my temple, trying to slow my racing thoughts. “I need to – ”

  “You need to rest,” Sasha interrupted touching my arm. “There’s no need to worry.”

  “Are you crazy?” I shouted in her face. “There is no way my man is in a cell and I’m going to sit around here not worrying. I’ve taken him for granted long enough. Now it’s time for me to support him the way he’s always supported me.”

  Sasha and Stella stared at me. Their eyes swelled with conviction and they both nodded.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Stella asserted.

  Sasha agreed. “Then we’re coming with you,” she said firmly, grabbing her cell phone.

  “I’ll stay in case I need to do something on this end,” Stella suggested.

  “There’s something for you to do, all right.” I pulled a smile from somewhere deep inside of me. “You need to process the paperwork for the shares I’m purchasing. I’m sure Hamilton Associates has received it by now.”

  Our laughter filling the room was a pleasant relief from the stress of the moment.

  Stella smiled and took my hands into hers. “Thank you, Miss Renaud. Thank you for saving Hamilton Associates.”

  I peered into her face. “Anything that concerns Dylan, concerns me,” I asserted. I squeezed her hand and her eyes shone with unshed tears.

  “Please, go and get my boss,” Stella said.

  I nodded and rushed out of the boardroom with Sasha on my heels.

  WHEN WE ARRIVED AT the police department, I burst through the doors with Sasha in close pursuit. The station was complete with gum-clicking hookers and their pimps. I pushed past them and stalked to the desk.

  “I’m here for Dylan Hamilton,” I said, placing my palms flat on the countertop.

  The officer looked at me as if she couldn’t care less, and took her time flipping through a chart. Her finger scanned the page until it stopped on, what I presumed to be, Dylan’s name. She rolled her eyes at me. “Take a seat, ma’am. Mr. Hamilton is being processed.”

  “I want to see him,” I demanded.

  “Visitors are not allowed in that section.”

  “I don’t care what the
protocol is,” I advised leaning closer to her face. “I want to see him.”

  “Ma’am, understand that your aggression is not going to get you what you want. Now, unless you have special privileges, there is no way you’re going back there. So I suggest you take a seat over there, right next to those lovely folks, and – ”

  Suddenly, a tall black man, with salt and pepper hair and a perfectly steamed suit, rounded the corner. Upon seeing him, the disgruntled woman behind the desk sat as straight as a lamp post.

  “Laila Renaud?” His tone was short and sharp.

  “Yes sir, that’s me.” My mouth trembled as tears crowded in the back of my throat. “I’m here to see Dylan Hamilton. I’m his fiancée.”

  The woman behind the desk looked at my barren finger.

  The man nodded, as if my testimony had moved mountains. “Let her through,” he commanded glancing at the woman behind the desk.

  “Chief...”

  “I know you don’t presume to question me,” he warned.

  The woman shrunk.

  “I said to grant her access.”

  I froze, both shocked and grateful for his command.

  The woman turned her eyes on me and rose to her feet with a sigh. She headed for a door behind the busy desk.

  I looked at Sasha.

  “Get on in there,” she urged. “I’ll be right here when the two of you get out.”

  I nodded my wobbling head and turned to follow the woman.

  The police chief strode next to me. “Miss Renaud, I can assure you that we are working as quickly as we can to get Mr. Hamilton out of this hell-hole. He’s been here for almost fifteen minutes, and even that is too long.”

  “I cannot tell you how grateful I am,” I said. Tears pricked my eyes.

  We flew around the corner, and the chief ushered me to a secure location. The sight of the bars and the cold, dank aura of the space made my body shake. From somewhere in the distance, shouts and howls of disgruntled reprobates ascended into the air. The smell of sitting urine burned my nasal passage, but when I saw Dylan, sitting on a dirty bench, with his head in his hands, I rushed up to the metal and cried out his name, forgetting everything else. My words were babble, shrouded with tears.

  Dylan’s head shot up and I gasped.

  His eye was bruised, and dried blood stained his nose. His shirt was ripped at the seam, and he winced in pain, but somehow, when he saw me, his countenance illuminated.

  “Ma belle fille...”

  “Oh my god, Dylan...” I pressed my body against the brass poles and Dylan met me on the other side. He rested his head against the cold bars, and I slipped my narrow hand through, caressing his face. I didn’t care about the grime that stood between us. The need to connect with him overpowered sanitary concerns.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry,” I whispered through my tears. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

  “Sweetheart, there is absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about,” he assured me. “Are you okay?” He searched my face like a primate in the jungle, but when he saw the bruise Sasha had referenced earlier, his brows drew in and his mouth bunched. He tried to push his hands through the cell, but only his fingers made it through. His trembling fingertips stroked my face and I squeezed my eyes closed, reveling in the comfort and tenderness of his touch.

  “He did that to you?” he seethed. “He bruised your face like that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I replied.

  “Laila, don’t tell me that it doesn’t matter!”

  “Let it go, baby,” I advised staring into his eyes. “You won.” I nodded my head, trying to convince him. “We won.”

  Dylan exhaled and let his head hang. His untidy blond hair fell into his face, and I stroked it to the side.

  “You look like a hot mess,” I whispered.

  Finally, he chuckled, and I sensed that his rage had been quelled, even if just a little.

  “Sasha said you turned gangsta in that boardroom,” I said.

  “I told you before, they can look, but the minute they touch, there’s going to be a problem,” he said. His features were rigid and grave. “Believe me, I had a problem long before he hit you, but when that happened, all bets were off.”

  My mouth trembled. I had never been hit by anyone before, let alone a man. If Dylan hadn’t been there... I swallowed. “Thank you, baby.”

  “You don’t have to thank me,” he advised. “I won.” He chuckled. “We won.”

  Moments later, an officer arrived with keys, dangling from the pocket of his uniform. He was flanked by none other than the chief who had ushered me back moments before. I hastened to the side to give the officer access and watched anxiously as he unlatched the cell.

  “Mr. Hamilton, you are free to leave,” the Chief announced. “And on behalf of this precinct, I apologize for this inconvenience.”

  I crashed into Dylan’s arms and he embraced me, squeezing me as if his life depended on our connection. His chin touched the top of my head and he pressed his mouth against my curls.

  “Thank you,” he muttered in response. “I’m sure you worked as quickly as possible. I’ve only been here for twenty minutes, and I’m grateful.”

  The chief shook his head. “It shouldn’t have been one minute,” he argued. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure Michael Sawyer gets one day to match each of the minutes you’ve spent in this place. You’ve been there for me and it’s my duty to be there for you.”

  Dylan’s mouth pressed into a tight smile. “Thank you, again.”

  The chief nodded. “Let’s get you out of here,” he confirmed. “Follow me. There’s a special exit for you to use.”

  Dylan took my hand into his and pulled me alongside him, but I remembered Sasha, who was waiting in the front of the station and I paused.

  Dylan looked at me, frowning.

  “I’m gonna go out the front,” I informed him. “Sasha is out there waiting, and I told her I’d be back.”

  “I understand,” he agreed, and then he paused. “Are you... coming home tonight?”

  I smiled and reached up on my tip toes to thread my arms around his neck. I touched my lips against his forehead and made a trail down the side of his face. I kissed his bruised eyelid, the tip of his nose, and the corner of his mouth. My mouth tasted the old, dried blood, but I didn’t care.

  Dylan winced, but pulled me into him by my waist, pressing a hungry kiss onto my mouth. “Let me rephrase that,” he groaned, when our passion slowed. His eyes were steady, focused, and intense. I was locked under his spell as he pressed his thumb on my chin and tipped my head up further, until all I could do was stare into his eyes. “I’ll see you when you come home tonight. I’m tired of sleeping on the couch. No more of us being separated. Please, get your things from wherever you were... and come home to me.”

  I smiled and tried to arrange his coif back to perfection. “Yes sir.”

  Thirty-Five

  Dylan

  ‘New Employee’

  The water plummeting from my Loure showerhead rained over me and the heat soothed my aching muscles. The waterfall setting sent streams cascading over my tender body and my hair, soaked and dripping, fell over my eyes. I slicked it back before leaning against the wall and resting my forehead against it, listening to Diana Krall croon in the background. The steam from the shower lifted all around me, and I held my hand up, examining it through the thick, hazy steam. My knuckles were red, bruised and swollen, and thoughts of how I’d pummeled Michael Sawyer filled my mind. A deep sense of satisfaction washed over me like the water. He had been right when he suggested that I had the police chief in my back pocket. It meant that any charges that I might have incurred because of my impulsivity would be dropped, and instead, he’d be the one to take the brunt of the burden. Laila, in her genius, had done a fine job of severing his assets and his business... but when I’d seen her beautiful face, marred and scarred, none of those consequences seemed adequate. There was a side of me, an impul
sive side – a side that had made poor decisions – which I’d packed away years ago. What Michael had seen was only the tip of the iceberg.

  My fists clenched as I dropped my arms to my side. And then I heard Laila telling me to let it go.

  Where is she?

  I’d left the precinct and Ignacio had taken me to the grocery store. I meandered through the aisles, picking up exotic spices and delicacies. People stared at me, confused by my disarray, but I didn’t care. I’d limped through the market, purchased the items on my list, and headed home. I’d envisioned walking in to Laila, but the house was empty, the way it had been for weeks, despite Diana Krall’s prediction that maybe she’d be there.

  Had she changed her mind?

  Maybe she hadn’t wanted to resurrect our relationship, and the only reason she’d thwarted Michael Sawyer’s plan was out of obligation, not love.

  Diana finished singing and a moment of silence fell onto me. I pulled myself off the wall, grabbed a washcloth and reached for my body wash, but when my hand grasped emptiness, I stood back confused.

  I stared through the mist, trying to see where I had put it, when suddenly, Laila’s beauty appeared through the fog. In her hand, she held my shower gel.

  “Lai...” My breath caught.

  Big, round drops of water hung from her lashes. Her hair, curly hair, hung loose and stretched. My mouth trembled, and I tried to find more words, but before I could say anything else, she was kissing me. Her kiss was raw and passionate. The bottle dropped to the floor of the shower and she ran her hands across my chest and up to my shoulders.

  I groaned deep into her mouth. The hunger I had was intense and overwhelming. The primal need to touch her skin, feel her on me, to be inside of her, obliterated my senses.

  I consumed her.

  My shaking hands gripped her face as I forced her closer to me, willing our bodies to become one. My stiff anatomy stood to attention, searching for her, and I pressed myself against the dripping entrance of her sweet cavern.

  “Let me cater to you, baby,” she whispered. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve it.” Tears splashed onto her cheeks, mingling briefly with the water from the shower, before they were washed into nothingness.