It's Not Love, It's Business (Young In Love Book 2)

by Elle Wright

  I avoided eye contact with my sister, Blake, and turned my back on her very-pregnant twin, Bliss. I knew if I looked at either of them, they’d know my dirty little secret. Instead, I turned to the two people I shared my mother’s womb with and grinned. Then, I took Duke’s shot glass from his hand and downed the contents. Next, I snatched Dexter’s glass and took his shot. And since I was on a roll, I picked up a full glass from the table and drank that one too.

  Dex frowned. “What the…?”

  I pointed at my brother, who looked like Ice Cube in Boyz n The Hood, complete with Dickies, house shoes, and a Jheri curl wig. “Shut up. No questions.”

  “Damn, Dallas.” Duke had done the bare minimum with his costume, choosing to come as Mike Lowrey from Bad Boys. “Where the hell you been? We’ve been looking for your sneaky ass for an hour.” He was six minutes older than me and never could resist bossing me around in the name of being my “older” brother.

  “Nunya,” I told him. Because even though I was the youngest of the triplets, I was the boss. “Mind yours. And I wasn’t gone an hour.”

  He waved a dismissive hand my way. “Man, take yo ass over there and sit down. That’s why one of your lashes is falling off.”

  I gasped, struggling to open my purse and grab my mirror.

  Bliss stepped over to me and took my purse from me, while Blake swooped in and ordered me to close my eyes.

  “You know I can spot a freshly fucked look from a mile away,” Blake muttered. My sissy was a stone-cold fox as Valkyrie from Thor: Ragnarok. “I never thought I’d see it on you, though.”

  “I thought I’d fixed it,” I whisper-yelled. “This is why I don’t wear these things. I should’ve never let Bliss talk me into all this makeup.”

  It only took a minute for my Super Sister to fix my lash, but it felt like an eternity. “Do better,” she chided. “You know better. If you’re gonna get busy, fix your face afterward.”

  Bliss returned with a full glass of water, her nun outfit concealing her very pregnant belly. “Sissy, you need this.”

  I gulped the water and plopped down on one of the sofas. “Thanks,” I breathed, letting out a heavy sigh. Bliss handed me another full glass.

  Duke sat next to me. “Who you been fucking?”

  I choked on my water, and he patted my back. Hard. “Nobody,” I lied. “Get out of here.”

  “I want to know too.” Blake took a seat on an ottoman across from me. “Spill.”

  “Nobody,” I repeated. “I just had a rough bathroom break.”

  “You’re so full of shit.” Blake laughed. “You’ve definitely been fucking someone.”

  “Since you won’t get out of here, I’ll leave.” I stood up and walked to another sofa, away from them. Closing my eyes, I tried to clear my mind. One night. One fuck.

  “Dallas?”

  I yelped, jumping up. “Shit, you scared me.”

  Preston leaned in, and I fell back on the sofa. He sat next to me. “Listen, I—”

  Hands up, I scooted away from him. “Nah, nigga, we’re not doing this. We agreed on it. Go sit somewhere else.”

  “Does this mean I can never sit next to you again?”

  “Yes,” I hissed. “No. It’s not that. You just can’t sit next to me tonight. Distance.” I waved at him. “Bye.”

  Preston laughed—probably at my expense. “I thought you’d want your earring back.” He held up a single gold-hoop earring.

  “Thanks,” I grumbled, snatching it away from him. “Sorry.” Before I could stop myself, my gaze dropped to his mouth. Shit, I want to kiss him.

  The wicked smile that formed on his full lips told me he knew exactly what I was thinking. Raising a challenging brow, he said, “You sure?”

  For a second, I wondered if I’d said what I’d been thinking out loud. “Huh?”

  “Are you sorry?”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You said you were sorry?”

  “I am, about the…um…” I scratched my temple and tried to remember why I was sorry. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. You just caught me off guard.” In more ways than one.

  He nodded. “Ah. No problem.”

  “Okay.” I stood, smoothing a hand over my skirt. “I should go.” I hurried back to the other side of the space, grumbling a string of curses along the way.

  Duke pulled me to the side and whispered in my ear, “Preston? Really, Dallas?”

  Frowning, I smacked him on his shoulder. I should’ve known Duke would figure it out before anyone else. He was good like that. “Move, fool.”

  As if on cue, Blake joined us. “Sissy? Preston? What the hell were you thinking?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but I had nothing. Instead, I shrugged. “Blame it on the costume—and the tequila.”

  “If you’re going to ruin friendships and shit, was it at least good?” Blake asked.

  I bit down on my bottom lip and nodded. “Too good. So damn good. Like, ‘if there’s a cure, I don’t want it’ good.”

  Duke raised his hands in surrender. “Shit, I’m out. This is too much, even for me.”

  Once he was out of earshot, Blake gave me a high-five. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. It felt good to just say it out loud. Maybe then I could forget about it? I tugged my sister over to a quiet corner. “I mean, I’ve had good dick before, but his deserves an award, some accolades…something to distinguish it from the rest.”

  Blake winked. “Ayyee.” She did a little hip roll. “I’m down for the Dick Awards.”

  We broke out in a fit of giggles. I almost told her more, but then there was cake and candles and my parents singing the birthday song with wide grins on their faces. As my friends and family closed in around me, Dex, and Duke, I found myself searching for the man who’d fucked me into my thirty-fourth year of life. I wondered if I’d ever be able to forget—or if I even wanted to.

  Chapter One

  My Life

  Dallas

  June, This Year

  “Calm down, Demi.” I stepped onto the curb and glanced at my immediate surroundings. Downtown Ann Arbor was buzzing with activity, people everywhere. Couples walking hand-in-hand, dogs pulling their owners, men leering, weirdos being weird. A typical evening in my hometown. “Give me a sec.” I put my AirPods in and dropped my phone into my bag. “Okay, I’m here. What’s going on?”

  “I’m done. Finished.”

  I rolled my eyes. My bestie, Demi, called at least once a week to tell me she was finished with something. It was either her man or her career. She’d recently moved to Los Angeles and had immediately picked up a very wealthy, high-profile client—actress Paige Mills. “Is it work?” I asked, checking my watch.

  “No,” my friend said.

  “So, it’s Dorian?”

  “Yes.”

  I sighed. “What the hell did he do this time?”

  “He told me I needed to lose some weight.”

  “So, fuck him.” At this point, we’d been friends for far too long for me to mince words. “Tell his ass to grow a dick. Since you’ve been complaining he can’t get the job done.”

  “Dallas!”

  I shrugged. “What?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m walking to the restaurant.” I hurried across the street, nearly running into a young man in super tight shorts and light blue hair. “I told you I’m meeting Maya for dinner.”

  “Exactly. Which means you’re out in public, loud as hell, talking about my boyfriend’s dick?”

  “You know I don’t spend my time worrying about what people think of me. I don’t live in that part of my feelings. And you shouldn’t either.”

  Demi snorted. “I’m hanging up.”

  “If you hang up on me, I’m telling Blake to call you.” My friend’s heavy sigh let me know that was the last thing she wanted. My sister was ruthless when it came to this type of shit. After all, Blake was known as The B
reakup Expert. She’d been helping women break up with their trifling men for years. “Listen, I love you. But I hate Dorian.”

  “I kind of hate him too,” she admitted.

  “Okay, then. Do something about it.”

  “Fine.”

  I stopped in front of the restaurant and peered through the window. Maya was already seated at a booth. “Shit, she’s here.”

  “She’s early,” Demi said.

  About fifteen minutes early, which wasn’t ideal. I made it a point to be early to every occasion, whether it was dinner with my father, a pedicure with my sisters, or a work meeting. It was a personal goal to be anywhere before everyone else so I could think, formulate a plan of action. “I have to go. By the time I call you tonight, I hope you’ll be single. Bye, girl.” I pulled my earbuds out and set them in the case. When I reached out to open the door, a very masculine hand stopped me. I whirled on him, ready to clock whoever it was for having the audacity to touch me. “What…? You.” I yanked my arm free. “This isn’t happening.”

  “Dallas!” My ex, Kimball Payne, blocked my entrance into the restaurant. “I’m sayin’. Give me a chance.”

  Stepping out of arms reach, I folded my arms over my chest. “I thought I made myself very clear the last time you came to see me.”

  The six long months I’d spent with him were some of the worst of my life. If Kimball wasn’t calling me every ten minutes for no reason at all, he was leaving mushy voicemails and texting heart emojis. I’d known from the beginning that it wouldn’t last, and I’d stayed for the weekend sex. Until I couldn’t even do that anymore.

  “Please?” He reached for me, but I pivoted away. “Stop playin’, baby. Can I just talk to you?”

  He’s such a punk. There was nothing worse than a beggin’ man. Over the last few months, Kimball had been showing up at random places—at the neighborhood bar me and my siblings liked to gather, at my brother’s gym, at my office building. And each time I’d seen him, I’d told him to fuck off. “Kim, you know I don’t play games—and I don’t fuck married men.”

  “I can explain.”

  “No need.” When he tried to grab my hand, I balled up a fist. “If you touch me, I will fight you on this street. And I know you don’t want that.”

  Kimball scanned the area, dropping his head. He played professional football for Detroit and had recently married a popular reality television star. Standing at six foot three, he was hard to miss. All it would take was one camera phone, and he’d be on the blogs. Correction, we’d be on the blogs. I wanted no part of that mess. “We need to talk,” he murmured.

  “Not really. Go home to your wife.”

  “You pissed me off. I was upset, so I—”

  “Got married?” I shrugged.

  “I thought we were done.”

  I nodded. “You were correct.”

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  “Get a grip, muthafucka. You didn’t hurt my feelings. I broke up with you. Usually when that happens, people move the fuck on.”

  Kimball grabbed my hand. “Have dinner with me. I miss you. Don’t you miss me?”

  “No,” I admitted. “I don’t. Look, I have to go. Be happy.”

  I brushed past him and entered the restaurant. Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw him standing there watching me, a pitiful look on his face. I waved him on and headed toward the booth where Maya was seated.

  “I’m so sorry.” I bent down and gave her a hug. “I’m usually a lot earlier.”

  “No apologies necessary,” My mentor assessed me. “Besides, I see you handled yourself very well out there.”

  I sighed, sliding into my seat across from her. “You caught that, huh?”

  “I’m always amazed at your ability to never show your ass in public, but I’m not sure I would’ve had your patience out there. It’s time for Mr. Payne to move on.”

  Laughing, I took a sip of water from a full glass on the table. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Besides, his wife is a trip. I watch the show every Sunday night, and she is messy.”

  “Tell me about it,” I grumbled.

  “Enough about him, though. How are you, sweetie? You look beautiful as always.”

  “Thank you. I feel the same about you.” That wasn’t a lie. “I was so happy to get your call. It’s been too long.”

  Maya Winters was one of the best attorneys in the state. She was also a close friend of the family and my favorite professor. Going to her class had been one of the highlights of my time at Michigan Law. Even after I’d graduated and passed the bar, she’d made herself available to me, offering invaluable advice for my career and my life.

  For the next few minutes, we caught up, talking about everything from basketball to the latest courthouse drama. Always blunt; I appreciated her candor. She was tough as nails in the courtroom, well-respected by everyone, and admired by many. I’d wanted to be just like her when I was younger.

  “I must admit, I have ulterior motives,” she admitted. “I wanted to speak with you about something important.”

  “Is everything okay? Is it Julia?” Maya had divorced her husband of twenty-five years and had married the love of her life, Julia. The couple had weathered the odds against them and were extremely happy. “Mom told me the treatments are going well.”

  Maya smiled sadly. “She’s fighting a hard battle, but the doctors are optimistic. All I know is I love her, and I want her to be comfortable. And I do everything in my power to make it so.”

  “Please let me know if I can help in anyway.”

  “Actually, there is something you can do for me,” she said.

  “Anything.”

  She grinned slyly. “Are you sure about that? Because it’s a big ask.”

  A knot formed in my stomach. “Why do I feel like I need a glass of wine for this conversation?”

  “You might,” she confessed, waving the waitress over and ordering a round of drinks. “As you know, I belong to several organizations.”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  “Most of them don’t matter, but one of them does. Color of Law is looking for someone, a young woman we can groom.”

  Color of Law was a group of amazing African American women who worked behind the scenes to encourage and increase the number of black women in the field. Its membership consisted of some of the nation’s top legal minds, scholars, judges, and politicians. The moment I’d passed the bar, I’d signed on as an associate member and had attended several annual conferences over the years. But I’d been so focused on my own career, my own business, that I hadn’t been able to do as much as I’d hoped.

  “I immediately thought of you,” she continued. “I want you to take a leadership role in the organization, learn the ropes, and eventually run for office.”

  My mouth fell open. Shocked wasn’t even the right word. Floored was more like it. “What?”

  “As you know, the political climate is horrendous. In order to make effective change, we need more black women on the bench or in positions of power in the community.”

  “I…” I blew out a harsh breath. “This is not what I expected.”

  “Of course not, dear. But I think you have what it takes.”

  Honestly, running for office was always a far-off kind of thing. I figured it’d be something I’d check off on my list after I turned fifty or something. But now that she’d essentially planted the seed, I couldn’t help but wonder if I could make this work sooner than later.

  Maya squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to make a decision now. But I would like you to come and meet the board of our Michigan chapter.”

  “Sounds fair,” I said. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Why me?”

  She smiled. “You’re intelligent, capable, strong. You have a brilliant mind. You avoid scandal. And you’re not about that bullshit. You remind me of myself at your age. Good reputation, fearless, determined, willing to do what
ever it takes to get to where you want to be.”

  On any other day, I would’ve agreed with her. I was all of those things. To hear my mentor confirm it… I swallowed past a hard lump in my throat. Crying was not an option, but I damn sure wanted to. Because I’d worked my ass off to set myself apart from everyone else.

  When Demi and I entered the field, we’d wanted to become giants. She helped women regain their dignity in the courtroom, and I negotiated mutually beneficial mergers between people who needed to marry for whatever reason. My siblings called me The Marriage Broker.

  “That means a lot to me, especially coming from you,” I told Maya. “Thank you.”

  “It’s the truth. You know I wouldn’t lie.”

  I chuckled. “I know.”

  “Dallas, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could do this.”

  “It’s a lot of pressure,” I admitted. “Definitely something I have to think about.”

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  We spent the next hour eating, drinking, and enjoying each other’s company. By the end of our meal, I felt better about everything. As we walked to our cars, I thought about her confidence in me. “Thanks for dinner. And thanks for believing in me.”

  She turned to me, squeezing my arms the way she’d always done. “Always. I’ll be in touch about meeting the board. I’ve assured them you’re it, but they want to get to know you for themselves.”

  I nodded. “Just let me know when. I’ll be there.”

  When we made it to her car, she opened the door and waved. “Talk to you soon.”

  “Definitely.”

  I watched her drive off and fired off a text to my sisters: We need to talk.

  The drive to my house was uneventful, which was good, because all I could think about was Color of Law and their plans for me. I’d already debated it in my head and had analyzed the pros and cons. I’d talked to my sisters briefly and even prayed for an answer, a clue, some sort of sign. And I’d probably debate, analyze and overthink it tomorrow—and the next day. The only thing that seemed to be clear was…I want it.