“You’re out,” Sutton said. She didn’t even give Ashton the courtesy of looking at her as she sat, posture perfect, dainty hands gripping the fork and steak knife that were annihilating the cut of Wagyu beef on her plate.
“You’re so unreasonable, Sutty! So I missed my flight. You act like that’s the end of the world. You and I need to get something straight. I’m the youngest, but I’m not a baby anymore. I don’t need you holding my hand or playing it safe with me. I handle my business just like the three of you, so take off the training wheels,” Ashton said.
“Handling your business means being prompt. You’re burnt, Ash. You hopped on the nigga’s private jet. You can’t join the mile-high club and pop champagne, then approach him on some legit business. He will never take you serious.”
“Mile high? That’s what you think?” Ashton asked.
“I mean, you did pop pussy for the geek a few days ago, Ash, it ain’t far-fetched,” Honor said.
Luna snickered as Ashton rolled her eyes. “Was the dick good at least?”
“Trash, just like these rules y’all putting on me,” Ash answered, perturbed.
“You’ll just sit this one out,” Honor said. “Let us approach it the right way before he sees your face again. Even if you didn’t fuck him, you think he’s going to let you manage his company and you couldn’t even manage your own travel arrangements without fucking up?”
“Fine,” Ashton said, finally picking up her silverware to eat. She snapped the linen napkin open and placed it in her lap. She was livid. They were treating her like an amateur. They had no idea how much work she had put in on the streets of Miami, but she knew in their eyes she would always be little Ash. To her, she was the fuckup, the hothead, the one who had brought the family tumbling down. They held some resentments about the incarceration of their father and because she knew it was her fault, she let them have this one.
“I’ll keep my distance from this one until it’s set in stone, but FYI, we’re focused on the wrong man. August Sinclair might be the prince of Daddy’s company, but the nigga I saw on the jet with him today, he’s the next king. I could feel it just by being around him.”
“I’m not worried about the right-hand man. I want the son of the white billionaire, the oil tycoon from Texas,” Sutton said. “August is the eldest son; he’s the one with the power. He is a legacy. Nobody else matters but him. So, whoever you saw on the jet is not our target. Forget about him and focus.”
“You didn’t see their dynamic, Sutty. August may be filthy rich, but he ain’t the one calling the shots.”
Sutton was slow to respond, and Ashton shook her head. She hated when Sutton acted like no one else was in the room. Sutton only moved when she was ready, only spoke after carefully considering what she wanted to say. She was calculating.
“Tell me about him,” Sutton said, finally biting. If she knew nothing else, she knew Ashton knew how to spot the boss.
“Whoever he is, he’s official. Not being arrogant or anything, but he didn’t even look in my direction,” Ashton said.
“That’s not arrogant at all, baby sis,” Luna said sarcastically, laughing.
“Hey, that’s hard for a man to do! Hell, it’s hard for some women to do,” Honor added.
“I’m serious, y’all. It was hella women on their jet and I mean they were there for his entertainment and he had nothing for them. He stayed to himself, barely spoke. Was rude, in fact. For four hours, he was invisible to the bullshit. He opted out. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man with that much self-control,” Ashton said.
“You were raised by a man with that type of self-control,” Luna said. “What’s his name? I can look up his net worth.”
“I don’t know,” Ashton admitted.
“Where are they staying? If we have that information, we can skip the party altogether. A little coincidental meet-cute will go over better than a conversation in a crowded club.”
“I don’t know,” Ashton said again.
“You were on a jet for hours with this man and you didn’t get any information we could use?” Honor asked. “You’re slipping, Ash.”
“He didn’t socialize at all. I’m telling you. This nigga’s different. When I know, I know, and this is the lick of a lifetime. He’s loaded. The jet we flew in on wasn’t some rented aircraft with some random pilot. It was his. Not August’s. A brother in a ten-thousand-dollar suit and brown skin owned it. The pilot knew him; the flight attendant was familiar with him.”
“We’ll worry about the mystery man later. Let’s talk about August Sinclair,” Sutton said, growing impatient.
“He’s worth…” Luna began to roll down the statistics on the Sinclair family, but Sutton was already in the know.
“Billions. I’m aware,” Sutton interrupted. “August Sinclair is worth two point four billion dollars and that’s not counting the valuation of the company. I don’t do anything blindly. I’ve done my homework. Get dressed. We’ve got a Draft party to go to.”
“Me too?” Ashton asked.
“How else am I supposed to know who the king is?” Sutton asked, winking at her sister and showing a bit of leniency because they all knew Sutton had a radar for made men. Even without Ashton’s help, she would have sniffed her target out of the crowd.
“About time you took the stick out your ass,” Honor said. “Now, can I have a dope-ass girls’ night with my sisters?”
Sutton nodded, smirking a bit. She never smiled. She was such a tough girl, but they all knew that she was happy about the reunion. Tough love was the only kind of love she knew how to give, but it felt miraculous all the same. They finished their dinner and stopped into their suites to freshen up before heading out on the town.
The LaCroix sisters stepped out the Mandarin Oriental looking like money. They were so glamorous that people spoke in hushed tones, speculating about their identities as they made their way to the awaiting cars outside.
“Relax, Sutty,” Honor said as she reached for the bucket that housed the champagne.
“I’m relaxed,” Sutton said.
“No, you’re not, you’re thinking of every single way this can go wrong. Tonight should be fun. We’re headed to a party full of millionaires and we’re going to be the prettiest bitches in the room. Ain’t no way we’re walking out without a bag,” Honor said as she slipped into her waiting car.
Again with the separate cars because even though they anticipated a night full of fun, they took precautions, nonetheless. Multiple exit strategies.
They pulled up to Soho House and this time, they didn’t mind the camera flashes as paparazzi called out to them. A little red-carpet slay for Page Six was necessary. It created good publicity for their firm, using their good looks as the carrot they dangled in front of potential clients. Men were the easy ones. Just the potential to fuck one of the LaCroix sisters brought them through the door. The sisters were exquisite. It wasn’t until they opened their mouths that people realized they were the real deal. Intelligent and savvy, they were brilliant negotiators and exceptional at all things business.
Sutton gave a look over her shoulder as she posed one last time before walking inside the exclusive club.
Chatter filled the air as music played in the background. It was a gold digger’s dream to be in a room filled with so many connections. Every major sporting league was in attendance, as well as entertainers. Sutton thanked God she and her sisters weren’t easily impressed.
Even some of the most successful women ended up tricking when this much money was in one room. They reduced themselves for attention. Sutton saw it happening already all around the room and the night had just begun. It was a contest of clout. Who wore the least amount of clothes? Whose weave was the longest? Whose ass was the fattest? It was a silicone and pussy contest. Classless was in style, but Sutton knew better. She and her sisters were timeless.
Without any effort at all they pulled the eyes of every man they passed. Sutton didn’t even smile as she walked by the crowd. Friendliness was an invitation for communication. She had zero kick it for these men. She didn’t need their compliments or their time. She was there for one reason alone, to scope out August Sinclair, and as she looked around the room, she wondered how she would make an intentional meeting appear incidental.
“It must be a hell of a feeling having two of the top ten picks on your roster. Congrats, my man. That’s big business. Black-owned sports agency competing with the big boys.”
West nodded at the two-time Pro-Bowl quarterback and lifted his crystal tumbler in acknowledgment. “It’s just a good day. Makes it seem like none of the bad ones came before it, but trust a lot of work went into building this night,” West stated.
“A lot of play too,” the quarterback said as a random woman slid into his lap. His hands immediately rounded to the woman’s behind. “A lot of play, indeed. Best perks of the job.”
West smirked, but he was unamused as another one of the groupies in the suite tried to enter his space. “I’m good,” he said.
“Big bro always so serious!” August shouted, holding his arms out while gripping a bottle of champagne in both hands. “We’ve got to celebrate! You have these owners eating out of the palm of your hand. West Coast is really taking off. I remember when that used to be you out there on the field.”
“That was before I knew the real flip was in the skybox, not on the field. NCAA made millions off my jersey sales and I didn’t see one dime,” West complained. “Tearing my ACL ended my career, but it made me wise up.”
“You know the game. You understand the player’s side of things, West. It’s why I’ll never switch representation. Congrats on the new blood,” the quarterback said.
West nodded, raising his glass to tap the bottle August held up and the glass of his client before taking a sip.
“If you gentlemen will excuse me,” he said.
West eased through the crowd and slipped out the door to the private room, mixing in with the chaos of the nightclub. This wasn’t really his scene. He was far removed from bottle service and random women in nightclubs, but he knew this celebration was hard earned. His sports agency might be his second priority, but he wasn’t blind to the fact that the other men in the room had awaited this moment their entire lives. It was a night to commemorate. He took the metal stairs up to the second floor and slipped out onto the rooftop. He was grateful to the high winds that kept everyone else inside. He just wanted to take a moment to himself and celebrate his way. A good cigar would mark the occasion and a little solitude would allow him time to process the night’s wins.
Sutton looked around the room of athletes. They were young, eager, and waiting for her to spend some of the multimillion-dollar checks they had just received. She watched the young women in the room attempt to make a good impression on the young stars, and she shook her head because they had it all wrong. Their game was backward. Instead of Sutton asking for them to spend money on her, she would make them need to step it with her. Gold digging was retro; the new hustle was to be useful to a man. To be an asset. Men treated women like cars, trading them in to move on to the next ride every so often. Sutton didn’t want to be a toy to a man, whether personal or professional. She was the license they carried that allowed them to purchase their toys at all. She helped secure the bag and then protected it at all costs; they didn’t need to know she was also the one making them feel like their careers were at stake.
“Here! Have a drink!” Luna shouted over the music, passing Sutton her martini glass. “You look uncomfortable!”
“Just not my thing! I prefer boardrooms to bars!” Sutton shouted back. The music was so loud a normal conversation was impossible.
“This is their boardroom! Athletes do business over bitches and bottles!” Honor shouted across the table.
“Facts!” Luna added, laughing.
“These ballplayers are fun and games, where are the big fish?” Luna asked.
“Soho House has so many private rooms. August Sinclair could be anywhere,” Ashton answered.
Sutton was so uptight that she felt like her awkwardness was visible. Thighs clenched tight, hands folded in her lap, and body rigid, her entire demeanor screamed she was out of her element. She was beautiful, but the knitted brow and tight-lipped scowl was a natural deterrent for any man in the club who even thought to look her way. She knew her sisters were in their element, but Sutton just couldn’t get into the vibe. It was too hot, too loud, and too social. She just wanted to retreat to her hotel suite, finish off her bottle of red, and get into the September issues of Vogue and Black Enterprise she had waiting in her bag. This crowd made her uncomfortable and she couldn’t hide it. When a guy she recognized as a wide receiver for the Buffalo Bills leaned over their booth to whisper in Honor’s ear, Sutton knew it was time for a bathroom break. The LaCroix sisters attracted men wherever they went, and she knew they were about to turn their section into the hot spot of the night. Sutton grabbed her drink and stood from the table.
“Where are you going?” Ashton screamed over the music.
“I need to take a call. Don’t worry about me. Have fun. Keep your eyes open,” Sutton reminded them as she stepped away from the table. The line to the bathroom was irritatingly long so she bypassed it, going up the stairs behind it. She didn’t know where they led until she burst out of the steel door. The air hit her, and Sutton sucked it in gratefully.
“Hey catch that—!”
Before the man could finish his sentence, the door closed, echoing in the night.
Sutton pulled on the door. Locked.
“Shit,” she muttered. She pulled again, this time harder.
“It’s locked,” the man behind her said.
Sutton blew out a sharp breath. She grew irritated by the simplest things. Being locked on a rooftop with a strange man was not on the night’s agenda.
She pulled out her cell phone and attempted to dial.
“Too many buildings. No service,” he said.
She sucked her teeth. “Great,” she responded. For the first time she looked in his direction.
Wow, she thought, taken aback. It was the second time she had seen him. It was hard to misplace a face like his. He was brooding and handsome, standing in the night’s shadows as cigar smoke corrupted the air around him.
“I don’t believe in coincidences, so you must be following me,” she said.
A lighthearted chuckle fell from his lips.
“You’re saying seeing you at Lathan Naples’s event and here all within a few days is all by chance?” she asked.
“Important people often seem to fill the same room, Ms. LaCroix,” he answered.
“How do you know me?” she asked.
“I’m a black man in business. I like to keep up with other black people making waves in business. I’ve seen the write-ups. You’re doing your thing.”
“My thing? Is that what I’m doing?” she asked.
“Apparently, that’s all you’re doing. You’re wound up real tight, baby.”
Sutton scoffed, shaking her head as she turned back to the door and knocked. “Hey! Open up!”
“No one can hear you,” he stated.
“Ugh!” Sutton groaned. “This is not my night. I knew I should have stayed in. Rowdy-ass crowd and now this.”
“It’s that bad?” he asked.
“I’m stuck on a rooftop with a stalker. I’d say it’s terrible,” she said.
He smiled but didn’t reply as he continued his smoke. He was enjoying it. She could tell by the way he hummed a bit when he inhaled.
“If I hadn’t been trying to escape the bottle popping contest in there, I would have never come up here,” Sutton answered sarcastically.
“It’s just a bunch of niggas with new money,” West answered as he looked at the exhibit in front of him. “The check ain’t even cleared and they’ve already blown hundreds of thousands on bullshit.” He shook his head and rubbed both hands down his head.
“Can’t expect the conditions of someone’s mind to change just because their status does. A day ago, they were struggling college students,” she said.
His eyes froze on her, not long, but long enough to recognize her words had affected him.
“Maybe,” he answered. “Or maybe they’re just stupid as fuck.”
She scoffed, then laughed. “Or that,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just needed some air. I don’t remember hating noise this much. When I was twenty years old, I would be with all the shits. Guess I’m getting old. I’m normally in bed at this time of night.”
“Lucky bed.”
She pulled her neck back, stunned. His forwardness had taken her by surprise. He smirked, licking full lips before focusing his brooding stare back on the skyline.
The way he continued to smoke the diminishing cigar as if he hadn’t said a word made her peer at him in wonder. He was hard to read, and she was almost sure that was intentional. His suit was tailored and not just a brand name pulled off a rack at Neiman’s. It was bespoke, one of one, designed personally for him. The cigar he smoked was Cuban, authentic, and hand rolled. She picked the scent right out of the air as he blew the smoke out into the night. Tattoos peeked above the collar of his shirt and up the back of his neck and the intensity of his presence … That alone—along with the aura, the stature—screamed his authority without him having to speak one word.
She smiled stubbornly, looking away because she shouldn’t be this flattered. Her cheeks flushed as he bit his bottom lip and then ran his tongue across it. Sutton didn’t know if he was moving slowly or if time had stood still, but the nigga was a walking fantasy. Powerful and paid; subtle yet dripping in luxury. He wore his crown well. She had to admit that much.
“I never met a pretty girl who complained about being in a room full of money,” he said.
“Money doesn’t buy access to me. If it did, nobody in this building would be able to afford my vig,” she said.
“You sure about that?” he asked, turning to face her.
“Positive,” she said.
“Everybody has a price,” he countered. “It’s the first thing I learned in business. Niggas on the block, men in suits sitting across the boardroom, beautiful women on rooftops … even if it’s expensive, there’s a price.”
“Not really, but okay,” she answered, not at all affected by his arrogance. Men with money had the hugest egos, but he wasn’t boasting, just speaking from experience. His affluence had made rules bendable. Right and wrong were an illusion put on those who couldn’t afford to change the definition. Sutton was familiar with the way the world made exceptions for men like him.
“A hundred thousand,” he said.
Sutton laughed, shaking her head. “I spend that in Hermès.”
He was amused. His eyes glistened and he scoffed playfully. Sutton was no average woman. Everything about her was an elevated experience very few men could say they had ever indulged. With just the time they had spent talking, this man had already been given more than most.
“What?” she asked.
“Not many women stand by their word. They say it to say it, to dismiss feeling cheap, to put up a façade of respectability,” he answered.
“The type to say, ‘I don’t normally do this,’ knowing all along they’re going to do the shit?” Sutton asked, smiling.
“That exact type,” he confirmed.
“Yeah, wrong girl,” she said. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“The opposite, actually. It’s low-key refreshing,” he answered. He sat on the edge of the cement ledge and peered at her curiously, taking one last puff of his cigar before snuffing it out and placing it inside his inner jacket pocket.
“So business is your thing? That’s surprising,” he said.
She frowned. “How so?” she asked.
“The room full of wasted potential in there should explain why I’m surprised. A girl like you—”
“A woman,” she interrupted, correcting him.
He paused for a beat, taking the time to look her up and down before settling on her eyes. “Indeed,” he agreed. “My mistake. Women who look like you don’t normally do what they don’t have to do.”
“So attractive women lack work ethic?” she asked. “That’s not chauvinist at all.”
He smirked at her sarcasm. “They work, they just work niggas, not jobs,” he answered. “Crazy part is they don’t even know they’re the one with the leverage. Women can be bought; it’s their greatest flaw.”
“Not all women,” she fired back proudly. “There are some women men just could never afford. The money might be right; but in order for a man to really be rich, to really be able to afford to have his way, he’d have to have finesse. He’d have to be so used to money that he never even mentioned it; that he no longer saw the purpose of it.”
“Where are you from?” he asked, curious as to where her ideologies originated from.
“Miami.” Sutton bit her tongue after the truth slipped from her mouth. It snuck out too quickly to chase it back. He didn’t need to know background information. It made her traceable. It was his aura. It demanded the truth and nothing else. His authority was passive, but present, and Sutton was intrigued.
“Sutton LaCroix from Miami,” he said, mulling it over, going inside his head, making assumptions about who she was. She was sure all of his assumptions were wrong.
A random couple pushed open the steel door, bursting out into the night.
“Hey, my man! Hold that door! It locks behind you,” he said. He then turned his attention back to Sutton.
“You can’t be bought. I believe that,” he said, nodding. “So why don’t you give it to a nigga for free?” He rose and Sutton watched him walk back into the party.
He left behind the scent of his cologne, a key card to his hotel room, and a business card.
WEST SIDE MANAGEMENT
WEST S. AUSTIN
CEO
She picked it up, taken aback. No man had ever been so forward with her and oddly it hollowed her gut. It had been a long time since a man had given her that feeling. That giddy, sick intrigue that made her heart quicken.
She picked up the key. Four Seasons.
She placed the key back where she had gotten it from and went to find her sisters. Arrogant ass, she thought.
The party was going strong inside and she quickly found them at a table of football veterans. All the groupies in the building had their sights on the newly inducted NFL stars. The LaCroix sisters knew it was the established players who had the biggest salaries and they weren’t looking to fill their beds. Events like this were for networking. She was certain they would walk out with a slew of potential clients.
She walked over to the booth and leaned down to whisper in Honor’s ear.
“I’m going to head out. Y’all be safe and keep Ash on a leash. One of these niggas show a little weakness, and he’ll wake up with his bank account on empty messing with her.”
Honor laughed. “I got it. You sure you don’t want to stay?”
Sutton shook her head and blew her other two sisters kisses before heading for the exit. Her car was waiting curbside as instructed and she slid inside, feeling relief as soon as she was behind the dark tint.
“Back to the hotel, Ms. LaCroix?”
“There’s our boy,” Ashton said as she watched August step out onto the second-floor balcony. He overlooked the main floor as women flocked behind him. Ashton recognized two all-star players beside him, but somehow the white boy was the center of attention. People liked him. His charisma mixed with unlimited pockets made him the life of every party.
“Talking business in a nightclub is a sure way to ruin a deal before we even get started,” Gadget said. “Now that we’ve laid eyes on him, let’s find out where he’s staying.” Gadget pulled a small GPS tracker from her makeup compact. She opened her palm to show the small device to her sisters. It looked like a random button.
“We slide this in his jacket pocket, and we’ll be able to see where he’s staying without having to follow him—down to the room number. We’ll send a girl to him, underaged of course, and when he realizes he’s had sex with a minor, we’ll have him exactly where we want him.”
“Who’s up?” Ashton asked.
Honor slid out of the booth, taking the button into her hand, and crossed the room.
It took her ten minutes just to get to August. Every few steps Honor took, a new man stopped her. She was offered six drinks and a marriage proposal; that last one she found charming, but she graciously declined it as she made her way to August.
“Excuse me, can I get by you?” she asked as she waited for him to turn her way.
When he did, August looked down at her then lifted hands, taking a step back to let her by.
“You’re seriously beautiful,” August said, looking down at her. Honor turned to let her body rub against him. She looked him square in the eyes, sliding her hand inside his pocket. She rubbed his dick and to her surprise she was satisfied as it reacted in her hand. Neither cared that there was a section full of people around them.
“You don’t seem like the type,” he said. “But I’m not complaining.”
Honor removed her hand but left the button inside his pocket. “I’m not,” she replied. “I don’t fuck with white boys.” She walked off, leaving his mind blown as she headed out the club. She sent a text to her sisters telling them her part was done and she was headed back to the hotel and then climbed into her black SUV, letting her driver carry her back to her hotel.
“It’s time to go, sis. We’re out,” Gadget stated as she gathered her belongings.
“I’ve got to pee. You can head out. I’m five minutes behind you.”
Gadget nodded, kissed Ashton’s cheek, and then the sisters went their separate ways. Ashton headed for the restroom, suddenly feeling flushed and hot as nausea pushed vomit up from the back of her throat. She practically ran through the club, only to find the ladies’ room had a line a mile long. She ventured farther down the hallway, searching for a second bathroom. She opened the door at the end to find an office. She entered, closing it behind her, and sighed in relief when she saw the light illuminating from the attached bathroom. She rushed to the private bathroom and tossed up her dinner in chunks. She panted, feeling dizzy as she gripped the countertop. Turning on the water, she rinsed her mouth and then looked in the mirror. She was so disoriented. She turned to exit, but the commotion of a tussle froze her. Ashton pulled the bathroom door, shutting it, only leaving a sliver of space for her to see through.
“Empty the motherfucking safe.”
Ashton’s eyes widened as she watched three masked men walk into the office. They shut the door behind them, flipping the lock, and then one man walked the manager behind his desk.
“We don’t keep cash on hand,” the manager said, his hands raised and trembling.
“You tell me one more lie and it’ll be your last. You keep celebrity jewels and cash in the safe. Open it!”
The manager fumbled as he bent down, pressing a button beneath his desk. The back wall of the room slid open. A hidden safe stood behind it.
“Let’s go! I ain’t got all day.”
The man tapped the gun to the back of the manager’s head until the safe was popped open. The manager made the mistake of tussling with one of the men, grabbing his ski mask and exposing his face. A silenced bullet quickly followed. The manager’s body dropped instantly. Ashton’s hand shot to her mouth and she turned away from the door, her heart beating out of her chest. She had no way to protect herself if they found her. The best she could do was stay quiet. Ashton squeezed her eyes tight.
“Man, empty the safe and fold this motherfucka inside, mane.”
The safe was big enough and Ashton felt bad for whoever came along to open it next.
Ashton was home free until the ringing of her phone erupted through the room.
She fumbled to silence it, but it was too late.
“What the fuck was that? Check the bathroom, mane!”
The door was pushed open and Ashton lifted her hands in defense. “I swear I won’t say shit. Not one word,” Ashton pleaded.
“Bitch, get’cho ass out here!” the man said. Ashton bucked and kneed him between his legs before grabbing the toilet tank cover and swinging it so hard he fell back into the sink.
“What the fuck, nigga? You can’t handle this bitch?” another one shouted. Ashton tossed the toilet cover at the burglar but he dodged it.
“Bitch, I’ll blow your head off,” he said through gritted teeth and aimed the gun in her direction. He snatched her out of the bathroom and put a gun in her back. “If you scream, I’ll blow your pretty ass to hell. Walk.”
He jammed the gun into her lower back so hard that the blow took her breath away. She looked down the hallway toward the commotion of the party. No one noticed as she was led out the back door. Red taillights awaited them from a black BMW parked in the darkened alley.
“Wait! Where are you taking me? Please, I won’t say shit,” she begged. “Just let me go. I have money. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
She had been trained by Miamor, but up against three men she was useless, especially empty-handed. The man grabbed her by the back of her neck and forced her into the trunk of the car.
She stared up at the man, peering into onyx eyes. They were all she could see through the ski mask he wore.
“If you hurt me, my family will haunt you for a thousand years,” she said. She was dead serious. Her Haitian roots were strong. The LaCroix family was known for their ability to seek revenge. They had ruined the Diamond legacy; not with the war, but with the sacrificial ceremony that had been placed over their family after her uncle Matee was killed. If anything happened to Ashton, her people were crossing the Atlantic in boats and they wouldn’t be coming in chains.
He scoffed and froze on her for a beat before slamming the trunk and cloaking her in darkness.
West loosened his tie as he lifted the crystal tumbler to his full lips. He had never been one for crowds, but it was necessary in his industries. From oil to his sports agency, his attendance was mandatory, but he didn’t prefer it. The limelight. Somehow it preferred him. His good looks attracted the blogs, his hood instincts to say less intrigued the grapevine. They knew nothing personal about him, so the media tended to flock to him whenever he came around. He didn’t mind the business inquires, but the personal ones felt intrusive. This five-star hotel room and the good whiskey in his glass made for a perfect night of solace.
He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, leaving it at his feet because he had a thing about white shirts. He never wore them more than once. It was in direct contrast to his upbringing when circumstances had forced him to wear the same shirt for days because one was all he had. He didn’t think about those days often.
The knock at his door pulled his eyes to it and he crossed the room. He pulled it open and just like she had hours before, she took his breath away.
“So, I’m going to skip the part about ‘I really never do this’ because you won’t believe it, anyway. The truth is it’s been a long time since I’ve had some dick and you look like you got the type of dick to make me lose my mind a little, so here I am, acting like I have no home training.”
The fact that she didn’t flinch made him want her in ways she could never imagine.
He stood there, staring at her.
“Are you going to invite me in?” she asked, irritation vexing her.
“I need you to understand what I’m about to do to you,” he said.
“I’m a grown woman, I’m pretty sure—”
“You’re not sure and I want you to be sure before you come inside.” He sounded like he was issuing a warning and the serious glower on his face told her she just might want to take heed. He had the disposition like they were negotiating a contract, not pussy, and her instincts to flee erupted. Sutton was too bullheaded to back down, despite her screaming intuition begging her to. She stepped across the threshold and around him, taking his glass out of his hand and sipping the hard liquor as she entered the suite.
“Nice view,” she admired.
“It’s brick and man-made lights; that’s not a view,” West countered.
Sutton turned to him in shock. “What would be considered a view?”
“The Swiss Alps from the Jacuzzi tub in the penthouse suite at hotel Megève,” he answered.
She nodded, impressed. “I’ll have to get there one day. I’ve never been partial to snow.”
“I’ve never been partial to small talk,” he shot back. “There’s a nondisclosure I’ll need signed.”
She scoffed. “Excuse me?”
“A letter of consent,” he said. He didn’t even give her the courtesy of looking in her direction. He retrieved his phone from his pocket and his fingers danced on the screen. When she heard the chime of her phone from her handbag she pulled it out in disbelief. A DocuSign file had been AirDropped to her.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he replied.
West had no time or room for games. A man of his caliber and with his net worth had to protect himself. He didn’t want there to be any gray area. She was either with it or she could leave. He had a phone full of willing participants if she chose the latter.
“Just protecting us both,” he said. “No offense, but I met you at an industry party. You sign and I’ll make sure you enjoy the rest of your night. You don’t sign and I can call you a car, no hard feelings.”
She peered at him curiously, clearly weighing her options. Sliding her finger across the phone screen she signed the electronic agreement. She typed on her screen. “Since we’re being cautious,” she said.
His phone buzzed and he chuckled as he opened her message.
“My status and my last physical exam,” she said. “I’ll need yours if you think you’re even going to breathe in my direction.”
This felt like more of a business deal, like they were two sharks on two different sides of the table, negotiating the terms of engagement. To the average woman it would have been a turnoff, but Sutton lived for shit like this, for niggas just like this. Bossed up and cocky. Rich and in control. Smart and prepared. The audacity of this man. The frankness. The presumption. It was like he’d known she was going to end up in his bed the moment she stepped foot on that rooftop.
Within moments, the document was at her fingertips. As she looked over the email, he approached her, removing the phone from her hands and tossing it on the bed.
“Now we gon keep playing or you gon let me have my way with it?” West asked.
He grabbed her face with one hand, pinching her jaws in, and smeared her lipstick with his thumb. She was beautiful but her body was rigid, her neck sank like she was holding her breath.
“How long has it been?” he asked.
She pulled her neck back, stunned.
“You’re uncomfortable with touch,” he said, reading her mind. “A woman who’s getting fucked on the regular ain’t this stiff.”
His lips were on her shoulder and moving up her neck. She quivered as he kept talking. “You react to me like you’re dying to cum, desperate for it. I’ma take my time with it.”
Her ears, her neck, her chin—she pulled back before he could get to her lips.
“I don’t kiss,” she whispered, slightly panicking as she placed a guard up, putting her hands on his chest to stop him.
“Tonight, you do everything,” he said, taking her lips anyway, disregarding her rules. His territory. House rules applied. She wanted to protest but somehow, for the first time ever in her life, she gave in to someone else setting the tone. She hadn’t kissed a man ever. Kissing disgusted her. She remembered being kissed as a kid in the most inappropriate ways, by the most inappropriate of men. A young girl, tainted, and misused before she even knew how good kisses could be. She hadn’t kissed a man since, until now. Her body was rigid, but his strong hands took control, one rounding her body and gripping her ass, pulling her into him. She was like a rag doll in his grasp because her limbs felt like noodles. He made her weak. His free hand caressed the side of her face as he devoured her.
Sutton was breathless. Every place he touched came alive and her face wrinkled in pleasure as he pulled her lips and tongue into his mouth, sucking on her like he had been craving her all day. She hadn’t ever felt this aroused. Her panties dewed and her breath hitched as he circled her body, breathing on the back of her neck, pressing into her body, hard dick against her soft ass.
He exposed her slowly, pulling her zipper down and peeling her out of her skintight dress until it lay defeated at her feet.
“Relax,” he said as he reached around her body, finding her clit and trapping it between coarse fingers as he rubbed. He lowered to his knees and opened her from behind, lifting one thigh in his hand until her foot rested on the couch. Her forehead pinched and she drew in air as he pulled her clit in between soft lips.
“Oh my God,” she moaned. She hadn’t even meant to be so vocal. He could tell the words had escaped to her dismay; but once freed, her pleasure was hard to chase down. He dove deeper, nose first, moving his head side to side as he sucked, then lapped at her womanhood with no mercy. He loved pussy—good pussy preferably—and it had been a long time since he had selected a cut this fine. She was freshly waxed and surprisingly tight as he pushed two fingers into her depths. Her back arched as he pumped his hand slowly.
Sutton placed her knees on the couch and reached between her legs, gripping a dick so massive she wondered if she could take it. Still, she guided him toward her wetness. She was nobody’s virgin, but she wasn’t getting knocked down on the regular either. His size alone leveled her, sending her belly into the couch before instinct told her to press pause. That one stroke knocked all common sense from her brain. Toxic dick. That was what this was. The type to make you have a baby just to provide receipts that you took that dick for a stroll a time or two.
“Wait!” She scrambled and turned around, flustered as she mustered every ounce of willpower she had to stop him because, damn, she didn’t really want to stop him at all, and the lack of self-control was a problem. He rubbed the sides of his mouth, taking a step back as she reached for her handbag. Sutton was undone. She couldn’t stop her eyes from lifting to the mountain of a man in front of her. He was so fucking solid—sturdy thighs, definition everywhere—and his hands, God his hands were huge, and he was skilled in using them. She wondered if the hand he was using to rub his beard smelled like her. There was something erotic about leaving her scent there. Her mark. She fumbled with the bag, pulling out everything except what she was looking for. Lipstick, compact, tampons, because with three sisters someone was always starting a surprise period, until finally … a condom. She sighed in relief because she didn’t know if she would have the strength to walk away if she hadn’t located it.
She held it up and he smirked.
“Precautions,” she said.
“Precautions,” he confirmed.
Sutton was almost intimidated by his prowess. He pulled out his phone and pressed a button on his phone. Music streamed out of the Bluetooth speaker.
I likeee when you’re stressed, but I like it when you take your stress out on meeee …
“For when you scream,” he said. Her neck snapped back, shocked at his assumption that she would scream as dvsn filled the room. The soulful music would undoubtedly mask any sounds of pleasure that escaped her.
He didn’t give it a second thought as he backed her up to the bed and then strapped up. Her back hit the cool sheets and he hovered over her, covering her lips with his before she could catch her breath. The taste of tobacco and liquor was masculine and overwhelming and oddly enticing as she did something she never did: kissed him back. It was like the taste of him intoxicated her. Biceps bulged around her head as he balanced on balled fists over her body. The nigga didn’t even knock before entering. He just unlocked her doors and barged in like he owned the shit. Sutton’s back arched so high off the bed that he picked her up.
With one arm wrapped around her back and the other around her throat, his dick was somewhere near China because he was digging through her earth for sure. The bed only gave him more room to explore her wet and he splashed in that shit relentlessly.
She reached out for help, gripping sheets above her head. His hand followed hers, grabbing her hand and intertwining their fingers as he stroked her from behind.
Sutton threw ass back at him like a star pitcher in the bottom of the ninth who was dealing with loaded bases. She wanted to scream his name, praise him, slap him, fight his ass for hitting it so good, but instead she bit down on her lip as he made up for every inch of mediocre dick she had ever endured in her life. She had never met a man who knew exactly what to do, where to touch, and how hard to beat it. Nothing about him was gentle; he didn’t know her well enough to make love. A whole lot of fucking was going down in the penthouse of the Four Seasons and she couldn’t help but wonder how he would handle a woman he held some affection for.
West gripped her waist with both hands and pulled her back onto him, no running. “Damn.”
The word only boosted her ego. Hearing his enjoyment, her nectar fueling his pleasure, made it even better.
“Agh!” she cried. Her fingers opened and then closed again, pulling the sheets from the mattress. West came up on one foot. Too deep. He was submerged and when he bit the side of her neck, she lifted her chin to the ceiling … praise this nigga.
Bitchhhhh.
It was what she would tell her sisters later.
It was so fucking good. He slapped her ass, gripping it, and then licked the back of her neck. His tongue trailed down the center of her back, making her weak. That tongue was glorious, an extrovert as it made friends with the crack of her, then traveled to her most sensitive spot.
“Turn over,” he ordered.
She rolled over on her back, covering her eyes as he pulled the scream from her depths.
“Nigga!”
He chuckled but he didn’t miss a bite, eating her up, finishing his plate, cleaning it, because it was ungrateful to leave even a morsel of a delicacy untasted.
She came so hard her body shuddered, and he kissed his way up the front of her, appreciating toned abs and tasting dark nipples before letting her enjoy her own flavor on his tongue. For a girl who didn’t kiss, she couldn’t stop kissing him. She moaned as he filled her again, hitting circles in her shit like he was doing donuts on a hot summer day. Hood shit. Hood nigga. He was too cocky to be anything other than that. The suit had fooled her.
“Shit ain’t free,” he said in her ear. “You charging this shit to a nigga soul.” Her eyes popped open. “Your mean ass.”
He sexed her into exhaustion. By the time he was done, she had lost count of her orgasms.
He didn’t even lie down afterward. He climbed from the bed, taking the condom straight to the bathroom and flushing it down the toilet. When he returned, she was barely awake and the predicament he found himself in was one he had never allowed before: a woman in his room overnight. He finessed his beard as he stood over her. She was too stunning to disturb, so instead he dressed himself. He was halfway to the door when he stopped, reaching for the checkbook he kept in his inner jacket pocket. He pulled out a ballpoint Cartier pen and wrote out a check.
$25,000
On the memo line he wrote: It’s too good to be free.
He set it on the nightstand and then made his way out of the room. It wasn’t his first one-night stand and he was sure it wouldn’t be his last, but it for damn sure was his best, one he wouldn’t soon forget.
Sire sat passenger side in the car. He finessed his lips as he peered out of the window. The city of New York passed them by.
“Man, that bitch won’t shut up. I’ma put something in her mouth, shut her pretty ass up for good.”
Sire looked at the driver. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up and nurse that black eye shawty gave you,” he said. “What the fuck did I tell you niggas? We go in through the back, get the money, keep it quiet, make a clean exit. We dumped a body in that club and got one in the trunk. This shit is messy.”
“We good, bruh. Cameras was disabled and all. Get rid of this bitch and bust this bag down with August and we good. Get out of this stanking-ass city, mane. H-Town ain’t never seemed better, you feel me?” Wasan said as he rifled through the night’s take.
“Bitch had a fat ass though, didn’t she?” the driver chuckled.
“Be quiet and drive,” Sire ordered.
The sound of the screams coming from the trunk gave Sire an instant headache. He was in a whole different state, moving around a concrete jungle that was unfamiliar. Any single little misstep would land him under the jail. These fuckups were intolerable.
They pulled into the alleyway that led to the vacant restaurant.
“Get her out, put her in the freezer,” Sire ordered. “And find out where the fuck August at!”
They popped the trunk and dragged Ashton inside, kicking and still screaming.
“Aye, Wa, what the lick be like?” Sire asked.
“Six hunnid Gs and still counting my nigga,” Wasan said.
“And the deed?” Sire asked.
“Right here,” Wasan answered, handing over the paper.
August entered the building; the sound of his thousand-dollar loafers slapping the floor echoed through the empty two-story structure.
“Broooo! Did you get it?” August asked as he came out of his suit jacket, tossing it on an old wooden chair as he crossed the room. August had been the one to lay out the opportunity for the lick. An influential real estate tycoon had held the deed to a Sinclair boat slip at a New York marina. Senior had lost it in a poker match years ago and had never been able to get it back. It was kept at the safe at Soho House and August was willing to do anything to get it back. By any means necessary. When Sire had brought it to August’s attention that many celebs use Soho House’s safe for jewelry and large amounts of cash, it was a no-brainer to rob it during one of the social house’s most packed nights. The Draft had brought all the heavy hitters to town, so the take had been large. It had been eventful, indeed, but the extracurricular he had picked up during the robbery had elevated the stakes.
“I got more than what I came for. The fucking club manager is leaking in the safe,” Sire said as he handed over the document.
“What the fuck? I said keep it clean!” August shouted.
“That’s not the best part,” Sire said. “Look at this shit, man. What you want me to do with this?” Sire pulled open the meat freezer and Ashton sat in the bottom right corner, shivering violently. Her back was to the wall and her eyes were on the door. She stood to her feet as soon as the door had opened.
“What the fuck are you doing, Sire? I know her.”
“August?” Ashton said, frowning. “August, I swear I won’t say anything.”
“How do you want to handle this? I’m open to all suggestions, but just make sure whatever warranties you take covers a nigga. If you want to be civilized and let shawty go, I can do that too. Money can buy her silence. It’s all the same. Either way, I’m back to H-Town tonight.”
August looked at Sire’s two goons and then down at Ashton.
“I didn’t tell you to kill a high-profile club owner or take a hostage! This wasn’t the plan!” August shouted. “This is your mistake. You fix it. Your money has been wired into the Cayman account.”
August looked at Ashton once more and then stepped closer to Sire.
“Do what you have to do,” he whispered.
He walked out without ever looking back.
Sire turned to Ashton.
“You don’t have to do this,” Ashton said.
Sire closed the freezer door and turned to Wasan and his goon. “Wrap this shit up. Make it quick and painless, then clean it up. I’ll meet y’all at the clear port in three hours.”
Sire looked through the square glass window into the freezer. His guilt pulled at him. He had no problem putting his murder game down, but he had never been the type to touch women and children. Ashton had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and it would cost her everything. She looked up at him and her stare captured him. To his surprise, she wasn’t afraid.
She’s pissed, he thought. It was an odd emotion for a woman in Ashton’s predicament. It was as if she had the power.
He wanted to let her go, but he couldn’t. He had never let a threat walk and today wouldn’t be the day. God forgive me, he thought as he turned away from the freezer, leaving her to face an undeserving fate.
“Maid service!”
The sound of the electronic key opening the door was the only thing that aroused Sutton from her slumber. She hadn’t slept like that in months; even with her prescription sleeping pills, she found it hard to rest her mind. Disoriented, she sat up. Her body hummed, her pussy swollen as she scrambled out of the bed.
“I need a minute!” she called back.
“Ma’am, the manager is here, we need the room, it’s two hours past checkout,” the maid called back. Sutton wrapped her body in the white sheet and hurried to her handbag. She pulled out her wallet, fumbling to retrieve one of her credit cards. She cracked the room door and slid it to the man.
“Just charge another night,” she snapped. “I’ll stop by the front desk to give you my ID and to sign for it.”
She shut the door before the man could respond. Looking around the empty room, she didn’t quite know how to feel. She had never intended to stay the night but even if she had, she wanted to be the one to wake up and leave first. No signs West was ever there remained. If her body wasn’t humming from the aftershocks of the quaking sex he had put on her, she would wonder if she had dreamt the entire thing. She sat on the edge of the bed and her eyes landed on the check on the nightstand.
“This motherfucker,” Sutton scoffed. She picked it up and shook her head. “He got me fucked up.” She ripped it in half before heading to the shower. If he hadn’t been on her radar before, he was definitely on it now, and Sutton would be the one with the last laugh.