Queen of NOLA : Jaded Series, Book Three

by Kimmie Easley

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lucky

  I don’t know why I said yes when she called. Even after spending the night with Jade, perfect Jade, and I still said yes.

  Now, I’m sitting here at another fancy table with cloth napkins and sparkling water, which is just about the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard of, trying to avoid her gaze.

  Carrie takes a sip of the red wine she insists on ordering and pulls her mouth into a hard smile. “You’re not drinking.” She looks at me with expectation.

  I want to ignore her, but I mostly want to get through this damn torture. “Yeah, wine’s not sitting well with me lately.”

  She holds her glass by the stem and smooths the linen before placing it on the table. “Sorry, do you want to try a white instead?” Carrie doesn’t wait for a response before summoning Chad, our poor server.

  I interrupt as she begins to speak. “Yeah, can I get a Shiner. Draft if ya got it. Thanks, Chad.” The man walks away, and I crane my neck looking at the weird art on the walls. Anything to keep from having to stare at her disappearing scowl. The ruse works because she changes directions. I wish I could say it got better.

  “When I never heard from you last night, I got worried.”

  “No need.” I take a swig and the sudsy liquid goes straight to my head, dirty dancing with images and flavors of Jade Belhomme lingering behind from the night before.

  “Everything ok, James? Your behavior is odder than usual.”

  I know the last comment was her ill attempt at humor, but I refuse to acknowledge her effort. Everything feels like a personal dig.

  “I’m fine, just a lot of shit on my mind.”

  Carrie presses in, leaning over the table and resting her hand on mine. The way she squeezes sends a hard ripple through my gut. She raises her voice to a screeching pitch. “Sooo,” she stares, now wiggling both hands into my folded fist. “We haven’t been able to catch up since the court hearing. I know you’re dealing with some heavy business, but that’s what I’m here for. To help you and if I can’t do that, I can at least make you feel better.” She arches her thin eyebrows. Her implication makes me snicker. She snaps her mouth closed and recoils into her chair.

  “Hey, don’t be like that. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I’m just not myself right now.

  “Well, you need to stop pushing me away. We’re going to be married, James. We’re partners. Talk to me. Besides, I’m dying to know what the next step is.”

  I jerk my head, connecting her mischievous gaze with my own hard one. “Next step?”

  “Yeah, you know, since court didn’t go the way we planned. We need to plot another course of action. Put a plan in motion. This whole thing about that woman being due what’s fair is utter bull.” Disgust drapes her hateful words.

  I fight the instinct to shove my plate and make a scene by rolling my neck, slowly exhaling through my tense jaw. “I’m not doing this. I don’t know how things were before the accident, but I know how things feel now. That’s my reality. I don’t like fucking wine or fancy restaurants. I don’t have to answer to you or anyone else about what I’m doing or why the hell I’m doing it. And I sure as shit don’t need your help making me feel better.” I toss my napkin on the table and scoot back my chair. “To be perfectly honest, I need some time to myself. Some space.”

  Carrie’s chin unhinges as she gasps. “Did you actually just tell me you need space?” Her gaze falls to her lap for a moment before she sticks her chin in the air. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. After everything, you can’t remember anything beyond a two weeks ago, but you’re going to throw out the most cliché, chauvinistic excuse on the planet?”

  “Look, I’m trying to do this with some dignity. If we were close before the accident, then I’m just not feeling it. Not now. And it’s not fair. Not to you and not to me.”

  “And most of all, not to Jade.”

  Every living part of my body freezes. “Jade has nothing to do with this.”

  Carrie’s glimpse of maturity vanishes as she purses her lips, leveling her stare and twisting her expression into a heated snarl.

  “Don’t give me that shit. Everything revolves around that whore.”

  I plant both hands on the white linen.

  “Ok, this is where I’m gonna say goodnight. For the record, it didn’t have to be like this.” I stand and toss a hundred-dollar bill on the table.

  “You’re going to regret this. You and that stripper slut.”

  I weave through the maze of circular tables. I can’t get out of the building fast enough. I don’t remember if I’ve ever seen this side of Carrie, but once is all I need to feel confident in my decision to break off the engagement.

  Things are starting to shift in my head. I feel her shadiness. I know it exists even though I haven’t seen it firsthand. Things are trying to clear up in my head.

  The flashes come out of nowhere. Just bits and pieces of stories, maybe memories, swirling through my rampant thoughts.

  But I can’t grasp them before they float away. Before they slip back into the dark, spiraling hole.

  The words ‘stripper slut’ do something to my insides. Something familiar. Something fiery, fierce. It makes me angry and exhilarated all at once.

  Familiar is good.

  Familiar like sharing the same air as Jade. Like the searing trail on my skin from her velvet fingertips. The way my body instantly reacts to that sweet floral scent that follows her around. Or the way her skin melded to mine like we were one.

  The entire night was like an old movie I’d watched a hundred times before, but in a good way. Like I could do nothing else for the rest of my life but watch that one movie.

  I’ve done nothing all day but fight the urge to go back and beat down her door. I remember Jade locking it behind me, blocking any light until her cell vibrates on the end table. I tell myself not to look. It’s none of my business, but my attempt is pointless.

  I lean over and see the flashing name on the tiny, rectangular screen.

  Drew.

  The muscles in my neck seize up. The pain cradles my scalp. Before the light vanishes, it blinks one, last time. Three missed calls and they were all from Drew.

  I didn’t bring it up last night. Fuck no. I would have cut off my right nut if it meant having Jade Belhomme. I breathe her in and immediately know I’m addicted.

  Even with the alcohol sloshing through my veins, I know anything I had with Carrie Scott is trivial compared to the way my pulse surges when I see Jade.

  Or the way my chest wants to explode when I see Drew’s name on her phone. I hate myself for taking it a step further. My head pounded from the rushing blood when I checked her recent calls. Drew’s name appeared a shit ton and their conversations last way too long for my liking. I wanted to scroll more, but jumped, dropping the phone between the metal bed frame when Jade turned off the shower.

  I’ve already got small, purple marks bruising the inside of my bicep from fishing it out before she opens the door and catches me with my bare ass in the air.

  My cell rattles, jarring me back to reality. The reality of daytime. Time without her.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Gauthier, this is Sheila. Do you have something you want to do about the two o’clock meeting?”

  “What meeting? I didn’t call anything.”

  “No, sir. This is an urgent executive session.”

  “Who called it?”

  Sheila scrambled on the other end of the phone. “Um, it looks like Ms. Scott put it on the books this morning.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “Sir, should I give her a message?”

  “No.” I hang up and promptly scroll for my next call.

  Thinking about this meeting’s already giving me small chubby.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Baby Jade

  In this short time, I’ve managed to memorize the diamond pattern on the drab carpet. It’s a horrifying combination
of the walk of shame and a dead man walking.

  God, I hate this walk.

  I feel as if everyone can see my insides still buzzing from Lucky’s fiery tongue blazing a trail along my flesh.

  But I have to make a conscious effort to hold onto that feeling as I walk down the Gauthier hallway like a sacrificial virgin on display. The thought makes me giggle, almost cracking a smile. I hate hiding. I hate feeling ashamed or not good enough.

  I glance up and see Wendy’s sincere expression, happy to see me, or maybe it’s relief. It’s like a literal light at the end of the tunnel. Either way, I decide I’ve counted my last diamond pattern, pull up my chin high and making eye contact with every employee who crosses my path. Wendy must notice because she’s bobbing on her feet with her hands clasps at her mouth.

  “Well, don’t you look like the cat who ate the canary. Something you wanna spill?”

  She ushers me into my office before closing the door. She spins back around to face me with round, dancing eyes. The girl appears ready to burst.

  “Can you believe he did that?”

  “What? Who?” The muscles in my face tense and I crease my forehead.

  “You don’t know?”

  I shake my head, dropping backward into my chair, the only thing missing is a tub of popcorn.

  “I was so worried you wouldn’t get my message and I didn’t know who I was talking to, Ma’Linn or someone else, so I didn’t want to give out personal information.”

  “Wendy, you’re babbling.”

  She takes a deep breath and exhales through a pearly white grin. “Ok, sorry. Ok.” She repeats her previous action and I’m ready to scream when she finally gets down to business. “So, Mr. Gauthier is the one who called you in. When he found out Ms. Scott scheduled an exec session behind your back, he had me call you in right away.”

  It doesn’t come as a huge shock, not after last night, but things didn’t end so well this morning. He was moody and upset when he took off after our brief conversation.

  I don’t know what got his nipples all twisted, but by the time I finished the shortest shower of my life, he had gotten half-dressed and, on his way, out the door. When I asked about a late breakfast, he mumbled something about a meeting and took off. Which was weird because he had been nothing but attentive and affectionate, like the old Lucky. The one who couldn’t keep his hands off me. Or his lips, or tongue.

  A shudder pierces my core and goose bumps stipple my flush skin at the thought of the brazen night before. I steer back to the conversation before I lose myself completely.

  “Did he say what the meeting’s about?”

  Wendy shakes her tiny neck, refusing to release the grin. “Do you want me to try to find out? To be honest, Sheila made it sound like he was surprised too. So, he may not know what it’s about either.”

  “Ok, well, I say we leave it alone and I’ll fill you in after.”

  “Sounds good. Need anything?”

  “No, thanks though.” She closes the door, leaving me alone with my nagging gut. I’m not exactly worried, especially since Mr. Bossier is already elbow deep in finalizing all the paperwork for the Gauthier transfer. That entire ordeal is like a vivid dream. Too good to be true. Too easy.

  I make a list of shit to take care of and guzzle what’s left of my cold coffee. I fight with the idea of going to see Lucky. To thank him for his role in making sure I knew about the meeting. We are equal executives, after all.

  Because I am who I am, and I do what I do, I decide to wait a few minutes, ensuring I’m the last to arrive. It was worth every second just to see the agonizing expression on Carrie Scott’s smug face.

  “Jade, you must be confused. You’re not needed at this meeting.”

  I spot Lucky, who’s burning holes through me with his steamy gaze. He gets ready to speak, but I beat him to it.

  “Is this an executive session?” I glance from her to the rest of the befuddled faces staring back at me. Some nod, some drop their gazes.

  “Well, yes, but it doesn’t…”

  “Concern me?” I take the seat opposite her. “Why don’t you let the actual head executives be the judge of that. Now, if you’re ready to tell us why you’re wasting our time this afternoon. I think we’d all like to hear it.”

  I catch Lucky’s dimples twitch when he attempts to conceal a smile. The other execs appear shocked but pleased.

  “Fine.” Carrie picks up her pen and slams open the black, padded folder on the table. “We can all agree that Gauthier has been hit with quite the infrastructure tsunami.” I want to put my fist through her mouthful of flawless, white veneers when Carrie directs her arched brows at me.

  “Get on with it, please.”

  I notice how she goes out of her way not to make eye contact with Lucky. My stomach pitches and I realize she must know about last night. Something’s definitely buzzing up her ass. I sure as shit don’t feel bad about sleeping with him. If anything, it’s the complete opposite. I feel good. Too good.

  I’m not thrilled about the circumstances, but it’s different when you know the truth. It’s not like he’s her real fiancé. I don’t know how she did it, but I do know she lied and cheated.

  She manipulated and monopolized on his accident.

  His accident.

  Lucky almost died.

  And Carrie has everything she ever wanted. Almost… I can’t help but think that’s not a coincidence.

  *

  “Wait, so she wants to break up the territories? Why only the international ports? I don’t get it.”

  I give Wendy the highlights and silently pray she can help me make sense of all the corporate bullshit. “Something about breaking apart some structure. I told you to sit in with me on all meetings.”

  “This was a session. Assistants aren’t allowed. Anything else you can remember?”

  I leave out the details about the blood rushing to the throbbing point between my legs every time I caught Lucky’s gaze. Between that and the way Carrie makes my head fume, I’m left reeling like a menopausal hurricane. There was something that struck me wrong.

  “Let’s just say she was super adamant on keeping one specific fleet of cargo haulers. Something about the MX containers.” I don’t know if she realizes that I know more about the company than I’m letting on, but I don’t care. It’s too early in the game to reveal all my cards.

  “That’s the fleet that brings in shipping containers from Mexico. A fleet delivers in ports along the Gulf before being loaded with a delivery to send back. It’s a simple system that’s scheduled at least a month out. This doesn’t make any sense. Ms. Scott’s already head of that International department. I sure hope no one fell for whatever she’s trying to pull. Mr. Gauthier?”

  “Yeah, he laughed it off and shut her down.”

  Wendy exhales a loaded sigh and I find myself thankful to have someone to hash this shit out with and not think I belong restrained right alongside my mother. Or at least she doesn’t say it out loud, which I appreciate.

  She leaves me alone and my thoughts are rooted on Lucky and his accident. I don’t know for sure if that bitch knows about our sex session or not, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve already made up my mind. He needs to know the truth. If Lucky can’t remember on his own, I’ll help him. I’ll help him remember what she did, and he’ll remember the pain she caused.

  I just wish I knew how to do that without bringing all of our own torment to the surface.

  I grab my cell as it dances in my pocket. It’s a private call and I contemplate clicking ignore but answer anyway.

  “Baby? Please! I’m next!”

  “Willow?” I shoot up out of my chair like my ass is on fire.

  “Si! Si, Baby!”

  “Oh my God! Where are you?”

  “A room. I don’t know. Two are gone.”

  “Two? Two what?” I wait with no response. “Willow? Are you there?”

  “Dos girls. Gone, Baby. She say you will help me. Please come ge
t me. Please? Por favor?”

  “I will, I promise! I don’t know where you are, Willow. Who’s there with you?” Who said I’d help?”

  The line goes dead and so does my pulse.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Lucky

  It’s the first time I’ve been alone in days. It’s much needed. My head is spinning with shit and nothing makes sense. Not the way last night made sense. Everything was perfect. That night was written before we were ever born. Predestined.

  No words, just our bodies and breathing. Nothing strong enough to penetrate the absolute starvation I feel for her. Even right now, just thinking of her overwhelms me with hunger.

  I just hate the way we left things. Why do I have to be such a fucking tool? I roll my stiff neck and try to shake away the image of Jade on the phone with what’s his face.

  Drew.

  Or worse, what if they’re actually spending time together?

  My gut tightens, and I swallow back the bitter bile in my throat. I clutch my beer and drain it before grabbing another from the fridge. I glance around at the white and stainless-steel kitchen.

  I like this room.

  I like the stools that rest up to the bar. For such a huge house, this room is quaint and homey. Too bad I don’t have anyone to enjoy it with. No one to share the air and conversation with. Just someone to be with.

  Well, not just any someone. I just cut loose a finance. But, that’s because Carrie’s not her.

  Not Jade Belhomme.

  There’s only one.

  I pass over the beer for a bottle of liquor and the combined scent of citrus and vanilla tickles my nose. Doesn’t matter. I’d rather have a cold can and brown paper bag instead of this ridiculously obnoxious bottle of The John Walker, the so-called refined version of Johnnie Walker. I open the heavy, crystal door on the liquor cabinet, ignoring the fancy label I knock over in front of the dust free bottle.