CHAPTER ONE

THE PRESENT

“These violent delights have violent ends…”

- William Shakespeare

 

Leaf rotated away from the warm spot on his bed, to a much chillier side, in search of the roasting temperature of his wife’s flesh. With an outstretched hand, he palmed the place she was supposed to be.

But she wasn’t there.

Why?

Raising his heavy head, he blinked his eyes open and gazed into the direction she usually slept. Her pillow was without a wrinkle, indicating she’d been gone for some time. He pushed the dark blue 1500 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets away from his body, and then kicked them on the floor. Slowly he wheeled on his back, opened his eyes wider and stared at the vaulted ceiling.

“Not again,” he whispered as he tossed his legs around until the bottoms of his toes nestled comfortably inside a pair of warm brown Ugg slippers at his bedside. “Where are you, Nine?” He realized it was time to forage for his wife within the walls of the mansion.

Again.

Before rising, he took a deep breath, stood up and ambled toward Julius Caesar’s crib.

The fourteen-month-old infant was of his bloodline. The infant was his cousin. And yet he was raising the infant as his son.

Using the glow of the night lamp, he lowered his eyes until his gaze fell upon the baby boy whom he’d grown to love as if he were his own. The child’s closed eyelids concealed his winsome eyes. “Guess you didn’t hear her bounce either,” he said before running his index finger down his face.

With the baby safeguarded, he headed toward the part of the house he was sure Nine would be. The same place he met her a little over a year ago. The same place where her blood oozed out of the whip wounds, caused by their grandfather, and spilled onto the floor. Yet it was also the place where she felt most at home.

The basement.

Her prison cell for most of her life.

Leaf, Nine and baby Julius now lived in the Prophet mansion by themselves. Their grandmother, Victoria, died from a broken heart in her room of the mansion a few months after Kerrick passed.

Now in the lower part of the mansion, he walked toward the farthest door within the dark basement. The smell of sawdust and paint was prevalent, since Nine was building something, which she kept private from Leaf.

When he made it to the location, he opened the door carefully. There was nothing inside, not a carpet, not a piece of furniture, not even a picture.

Why she insisted on spending so much time in such a lifeless space he would never understand.

With the doorknob in his hand, he pushed it open. “Cousin,” Nine said calmly. “Did I wake you?”

He stopped in place and whispered, “Why are you in the dark? Why do you come here when you can’t even see?”

“I can see well, cousin. It is you who is blind,” she responded. “Come inside…and close the door behind you.”

Reluctantly he did as requested and stepped deeper into what felt like an abyss. There wasn’t an open window and the boards covering up the windows had sucked all of the light out of it. “Bae, I can’t see you. Let me cut the lights on for a—”

“Do not use your eyes, cousin. Use your instincts and feel for me.”

Hoping to get things over with quickly so he could get back into bed, he kicked off his slippers and tried to locate her with outstretched hands. He even opened his eyes wider but when he realized they were of no use, he closed them and tried to locate her familiar scent. The lavender oil in her long, soft curly hair. The coconut butter she rubbed over her dark chocolate skin.

Using his nostrils, he inhaled deeply and reconnected with the reason he fell in love with her in the first place. With a new outlook, with each step he was certain he’d find her and he was right. Within a matter of seconds, he reached the other side of the large room and stopped when his big toe nestled between the folds of her vagina.

She giggled and seductively said, “So now you are trying to fuck me with your toe? I knew you were freaky but this is new, even for you.”

He opened his eyes despite not being able to see and grinned. Slowly he lowered himself until his hands were upon her knees and then thighs. She was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, and knees in the air.

“You said feel you and I’m doing that,” he whispered running his hands over her breasts. “I guess I found you.”

“Yes you did, cousin.”

“And once again, you in this room naked.”

“Is there any other way to be?”

Leaf positioned himself so that his body was against the cool wall next to her. He felt for her hand, located it and pulled it toward his lap. “Nine, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“When you gonna stop calling me cousin when I’m your husband?”

She giggled. Nine was the only woman he ever met whose humor and sex appeal were one. Everything she said, everything she did, was done with an ounce of grace and suspicion.

“Why would I stop referring to you as one or the other when they both are the same?” she asked honestly. Taking a deep breath, she leaned her head on his shoulder and drew her knees closer to her chest. “You ever wondered what pleasures grandfather gained when he beat me…ripping into my flesh in this very room?”

“No.” He frowned. “Just thinking about it makes me angry.” He gripped her hand tighter. “Even at this moment.”

“Are you angry because he beat me or because I willingly gave my body to him in exchange for freedom?”

“All of the above.”

“It should not bother you so much, cousin. It was not as bad as it seemed.”

Taken aback by her response, he asked, “Which part? The sex or the beatings?”

“Would you think I was weird if I said both?”

“So you saying the scars I feel on your back every time we make love are okay with you? That the beatings, the starving…everything was cool?” he asked angrily.

Sensing the irascibility he expressed whenever the subject of Kerrick arose, she said, “Do not get mad, cousin. It is just that sometimes I do not know what I feel. I was taught to hide my emotions for so long.” She exhaled. “All I know is that this room comforts me. I am closer to―”

“Fran,” he said completing her sentence.

Nine repositioned her body and regained ownership of her hand. “She loved me. She loved me when she had every reason to hate me.”

“Is that why you revived Kerrick’s vineyard and named the wine produced from it after her? Because she knew how much you loved her, Nine. You don’t have to allow them stuffy white people from that winery around our home. We have enough money. You have everything.”

“Except Julius’ love,” she said skipping the subject. “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Nine.” He placed his arm around her neck and softly pulled, causing her to press against the side of his body. “He doesn’t know you. Spend more time with him, instead of wasting every minute on the Francesca wine venture. Give him time, Nine. He’ll learn to love you not as some strange person or even an aunt. But as a son to a mother. There’s a reason why you took him into our home after you killed that bitch.”

“You mean my sister.”

“I mean the woman who tried to kill you, who killed our child in your womb.” He paused trying to wipe the hate away. “Despite it all, Julius will learn to love you.”

“Yet he has already warmed to you,” she responded more sternly. “Without the benefit of coercion. It is as I have always said, cousin. One day he will attempt to kill me and in the moments preceding my death, I will regret not acting first.”

Startled by her prophecy and speaking ill of a baby he’d grown to love, he said, “He’s a child, bae.” He couldn’t see her facial expressions but he could feel the fatalistic energy she was exuding gushing out of her pores. “You can’t hurt him. Not after you made me love the lil nigga.” He paused. “We can’t back out of this even if we wanted to. Remember all that time we spent convincing everyone that he was our son, even though they knew you just lost a baby? Don’t forget that none of your family members knew that Paige was still alive. If you give him up, they will think that you are giving up your own child. Not a nephew. There’s no turning back now.”

She giggled. “I am Nine Prophet, cousin. I can do whatever I want at any time I please.” She paused. “The sooner you realize it, the better off you will be.”

 

****

The blazing orange sun spilled inside of the massive, sparkling white Prophet dining room via the window. From the view, Nine witnessed her grapevines grow upward, like the natural mane of a beautiful African-American woman. Hanging right below the peacock green bushes were purple droplets of succulent eggplant colored grapes.

Dipped in a silk baby blue gown that melted into the flesh of her body, Nine sat poised in a large brown chair with gold accents that resembled a throne. It was the only chair at the table like it and it was just for her. As she stared out of the floor-to-ceiling window, with her mind on the Francesca wine that would be birthed from the land, she dictated the items of the day to her beautiful young assistant, Banker Troy.

Banker’s natural long black hair trickled down the sides of her face and rested at her shoulders. Her brown skin was always touched with very little makeup. She didn’t need it. Every so often, she would readjust the red eyeglass frames, absent of medicated lenses, she wore in an effort to appear astute. “Anything else, King?”

“Did my cousin Bethany call? About the wedding?”

Banker flipped through a few sheets on her clipboard and nudged the frames closer to her face with the eraser of her pencil. When she found the message she was looking for, she nodded. “Yes…she said the venue needed an additional one thousand dollars toward the deposit.”

“Did she say what for?” She paused with a slight glare. “I have already given a total of seven thousand dollars to that place. How could they want more?”

“She said your aunt Victory wanted to add a few more things.”

Nine sighed. “Okay, remind me to write a check and have it delivered by Antonius in the morning.” She paused. “Any word about Royal Babies Daycare Center?” she asked nervously. “Did they accept Julius?”

Via Banker, Nine had been trying to get into the prestigious daycare center since she found out about its existence. It was an elite facility where, if Julius were accepted, he would have access to a top-notch education. Her nephew, dressed as her son, would be in the company of the children of politicians and movie stars who had homes around the Prophet mansion in Aristocrat Hills.

But there was one problem; she knew that her family’s name was known by some of the locals within her affluent town. One hint of incest or controversy and Julius would not have the tutelage befitting a king. So she had Banker represent herself as if she were Julius’ mother until he was able to acquire a space within the center. Once that achievement was gained, Nine would step up and win them over with her personality, she was certain.

“I haven’t heard anything yet,” she sighed realizing Nine despised disappointment.

“Stay on top of them, Banker. And get in contact with Antonius today and tell me what he needs from me,” Nine instructed as she cut into a blood red orange, causing the cerise-colored juice to spill onto her silk gown. “His voice sounded frantic so if it is an emergency, reach me immediately wherever I am.”

When Nine wiped at the red liquid, causing the juice to span wider on her clothes, Banker jumped up, plucked a few napkins out of the sterling silver holder on the table and lapped at the liquid on Nine’s gown.

“Mrs. Prophet, you look as if you’ve murdered yourself.”

Nine observed the girl with wider eyes, appearing to be in a daze. Confused at her choice of words. “Murdered myself?”

Instead of responding, Banker continued pressing the soggy napkin against Nine’s body, rubbing over her firm breasts more times than need be. It was as if by touching her, she was hoping to gain one ounce of the poise, the power and the sexuality Nine possessed.

Due to the pressure she was exerting, Nine’s nipples rose beneath the expensive silk fabric. Banker was so caught up in polishing Nine that she hadn’t realized that she placed herself in a trance.

“Banker,” Nine said softly after being amused by her assistant’s sudden change of personality for long enough. She’d never seen her that way and she’d never been molested by her either. “Are you okay?”

Banker blinked a few times, realized she overstepped her boundaries, dropped the drenched napkins and pushed her frames closer to her face. “Uh…yes…I’m fine,” she smiled awkwardly. Picking up her pencil, she asked, “If I reach Antonius and learn that it is not an emergency, what should I tell him?”

“That I will contact him at my earliest convenience,” she said easing the citrus fruit into her mouth, before running her pink tongue over her fingertips, arousing Banker even more. “Any other messages?”

“Yes,” Banker said flipping through the notes for the day. “Someone by the name of Bambi Kennedy contacted you. She told me to warn you about upcoming danger. And that all of the bosses need to band together or your banks will be in jeopardy.”

Nine was quite aware of the message Bambi Kennedy tried to encrypt to her assistant. The Kennedys were at war with the Russians and as one of the bosses, Bambi was doing all she could to solicit help from local drug lords on the east coast. And since Nine controlled one of the most powerful brands at the present, which included one thousand soldiers, it was only fitting that Bambi solicit her help.

“Tell her that right now, the war with the Russians is a Kennedy problem. But when or if that changes in the future, she may count on Prophet support.”

Banker wrote down the message diligently. “Anything else, King?”

“Are there any other messages?”

“I think that’s—”

When there was a knock at the front door Banker scooped up her paperwork and said, “I’ll be in the office.” She was frantic as she tried to disappear. “Please let me know if you need anything else.”

Nine nodded her head and grinned as she watched the girl hustle into the walls of the house. Since she first started working for Nine six months earlier, she noticed that she had a shy disposition. She met Banker through an organization for the wealthy who needed help with private matters. She won Nine over with her professionalism and how well she picked up on Nine’s needs in advance.

When Nine’s housekeeper Elizabeth James, an elderly white woman, scurried past Nine and opened the door, Nine waltzed toward it. Elizabeth held the door open with her pale wrinkled hand, which was trembling due to having acquired Parkinson’s Disease.

“Liz, you are dismissed,” Nine said. Nine placed her warm hand on the doorknob and the eyes of the woman, who stood on the outside, widened as if she’d seen a ghost.

Nine focused on the woman. “Who are you?” she asked firmly.

As she waited on a response, Nine took a moment to observe the woman’s chiseled features. She wore a yellow and gold head wrap and matching dashiki, and she stood with the air of an ancient African queen. “I am Chipo Chunghwa.”

“And what are you doing here?”

“I am looking for Kerrick Khumalo.” The woman appeared mesmerized by Nine. Her eyes rolled over her face, the bloody stain on her gown, down to her feet and even her hands.

Nine, although usually graceful, upon hearing her grandfather’s name, clasped her hands in front of her and toyed with her fingertips. “Khumalo?” She never heard Khumalo associated with him before.

Chipo shook her head in recognition of her error. “I’m sorry.” She grinned. “You probably know him as Kerrick Prophet.”

Nine sighed. “I am sorry, ma’am, but Kerrick has been dead for well over a year now.” When Nine glanced down at the blood-colored stain on her gown she felt bad for not wearing a robe.

Perhaps that is why the woman stares so hard, she thought. I look a sight.

Chipo seemed genuinely surprised upon hearing the tragic news about Kerrick and yet it explained why she had not heard from him. She stumbled backwards and for some reason, Nine immediately assisted her, giving her the respect she would have Fran.

Who was this woman?

And why did she move her so?

“Please come in,” Nine said helping her to the luxurious sofa. When the woman was seated, Nine took her place in front of her on a cozy recliner. “Excuse my appearance. A piece of fruit ruined my state. I am usually more put together than this.”

“Your appearance has not been touched one morsel. In fact, it’s…you…are you his granddaughter?” she asked, her words running together.

“I am,” Nine said crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knees.

“But you look so much like my daughter…my only child,” she responded as each word followed heavy breaths.

“And she is?”

“Thandi Khumalo. Kerrick’s first wife.”

 

****

 

Nine strolled in the backyard along the pathway of her vineyard, arm in arm with Johnny Gates. Although she remembered their meeting, her mind was on Chipo and the relationship she had with her grandfather.

Chipo enlightened Nine greatly on she and Kerrick’s bond. Although evil to some, his honor and code were strong in some aspects of his life. Especially as it pertained to his first wife.

The moment Kerrick became a wealthy man, he sent millions a year to Chipo, which she used to rebuild her village in Africa as well as the schools. He never forgave himself for Thandi’s death and dedicated his life to expressing to her mother how sorry he felt.

At first, Chipo ignored his checks, never cashing a one. Besides, she was angry at how he left her to mend her daughter’s body, which was brutally torn apart due to his career of stealing babies and selling them to men who believed raping virgins would rid them of HIV. An after kidnapping the wrong child, as payback, Thandi was murdered and Kerrick fled to America for fear he’d be next.

Beside herself with grief, Chipo cursed Kerrick. Condemning him to a world of sadness so that his karma would be repaid in full in this lifetime. And when she saw Nine, who resembled her daughter, she recognized the power she possessed. She knew she was powerful, but it wasn’t until that moment that she learned how much. Not only had Kerrick’s last days been hell, he had fallen in love with his granddaughter in order to be reconnected to the wife he never got over.

In a sense, it was suicide by love.

“Where’s your mind, beautiful?” Johnny Gates asked.

“Here with you. Where else would it be?”

“How come I don’t believe you?”

“I am not sure,” she exhaled before inhaling the sweet odor from her vineyard. “Because nothing else could be truer.”

“Why am I not allowed in your home anymore? When you and I are such good friends?”

“You know the answer, Sir Gates.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I did.”

“Because you are my associate and yet Leaf does not want you in our home. I enjoy your company, Sir Gates, but I have to respect my husband. He comes first, always.”

Johnny was a fifty-eight-year-old man who had been in the drug business longer than he cared to admit. Although he was prosperous, he was prudent about his purchases and finances. Outside of his home, his driver and his Rolls Royce, he kept most purchases discreet and low.

His father, Billy Gates, was the biggest dealer Houston had ever seen. But he had a penchant for pussy and even indulged himself with his best friend’s wife, which caused him to be hung by his neck for all his men to see.

So Johnny, who was twenty at the time, took the money his father stashed at the house, along with his knowledge of the business, to Baltimore City for a new start. There he met Abraham, Kerrick’s old boss, and supplied him heroin using his father’s connect.

Business was good. That was, until Abraham’s neck was slit at his ten-year-old son’s football game. At first, no one knew he was dead. His lifeless stare was taken as a lack of enthusiasm since his kid’s team was losing. But when the game was over and his son walked into the bleachers and touched him, Abraham’s body fell on top of him. Then everyone had become aware that Kerrick Prophet murdered him.

The reason for the hit was known to most. Kerrick gained the trust of a Miami drug cartel and they supplied him with pure cocaine. Abraham refused to use Kerrick’s product and paid for this slight with his life. Although Kerrick still didn’t supply Baltimore—because Johnny Gates, who is a made man, was next in charge—Kerrick’s reputation for ruthlessness was legendary.

Which was the sole reason Gates never trusted him.

Kerrick was going to kill Gates too but the men he trusted, Mox, Riley and Jameson, warned him against it. They said that if he made a move without authorization, his entire family would be annihilated. Kerrick was going to take his chances and kill him anyway until Gates made a classy move first.

Gates invited Kerrick to a luxurious cigar bar outside of Baltimore. And over expensive smokes and whisky, he respectfully declined his offer to use his product. His tactfulness was the only reason Kerrick allowed him to live. Everybody else who bucked against his system was buried along with their close family members and friends.

After awhile, Gates grew interesting to Kerrick. He was a man who got everything he wanted but he couldn’t get Gates to relent. Gates was a challenge. The more he said no, the more Kerrick trusted him as a man of his word, which was why he invited him to his home. Gates had proven that he wasn’t a man of circumstance, but a man of integrity, something that he couldn’t say for himself.

Although very different, in one way they were alike. They had big families. Gates with his three daughters—a set of twins, Dymond and Berry, and a seventeen-year-old daughter, Chloe.

Once peaceful, things between the Gates and the Prophets took a turn for the worse when Chloe and Leaf met in high school. This was way before he knew Nine existed. Although sex together was explosive, Leaf wanted nothing more than a friends-with-benefits scenario. Chloe on the other hand felt differently. Feeling rejected, she pulled a gun on him in front of the school in an attempt to take his life. Unfortunately for her, Leaf defended himself and in the end, Chloe lay dead in front of her school.

Changing the direction of both the Gates’ and Prophets’ worlds.

Instead of Gates accepting that the matter was self-defense, and realizing all was fair in love and war, he instructed two men to enter the Prophet mansion to kill everyone…especially Leaf.

His plan looked foolproof except he hadn’t expected that Kerrick had been raising Nine, a natural born killer, under the floors of his mansion. With her bare hands, she brought them both down, thereby winning her grandfather's respect, love and admiration.

Knowing that revenge was a doubled-headed sword, under Nine’s command, the Prophet family descended upon the Gates property. Gates had to pay for his disrespect and yet Kerrick was unwilling to kill him. After all, there was still money to be made.

Although Nine was not present the night of the approach on Gates, her family threatened Gates into submission. He was either going to get on the right side of business or else lose everyone he loved. And to showcase an act of Kerrick’s villainous spirit, they murdered another one of Gates’ daughters, Dymond Gates.

To say Gates was devastated was an understatement. He dreamed of the night he would feel the flesh of Kerrick’s throat against his fingertips but he was beaten to the punch. It was Nine who murdered her own grandfather with the worst weapon.

One he adored.

Nature.

For days, Kerrick breathed in the poisonous odor of an aconite plant until he died in his own home. It was done out of revenge. Because for every day of her life he beat her with a whip in an effort to kill her slowly and still he failed.

Gates took a strong liking to the young and powerful Nine and decided to do business with her.

“Your vineyard is beautiful,” Gates said as he looked down into Nine’s beautiful face. “But a bet is a bet.” He ran his finger along her cheek. “So when are you going to give in to me?”

She chuckled lightly. “Why do it to yourself, Sir Gates?” she asked seductively. “When you know you will never have me. When you know that I belong to Leaf and Leaf alone.”

He tried to hide the disgust he had in his heart for Leaf. But the right side of his cheek puffed before flattening again. “A married woman, even one as powerful as you, must still pay what she owes. It is how you attain and maintain respect.”

She nodded. “This is true, Sir Gates.” She stopped walking, stepped in front of him and lowered down halfway. “I always pay my debts.”

Raising the edge of her dress slightly, she removed her gold silk panties. Slowly she raised them and placed them under his nose. The dampness of the seat brushed against his left nostril. He inhaled deeply. “You smell as sweet as I imagined.” She giggled and walked arm in arm with him again before he stuffed the panties in his pocket.

“Tell me something, how did you know that the boxer you sold me would win the championship? He looked so meek and for some reason, I did not think it possible. I figured he needed at least a good six months to build stamina.”

“As you know already, I’m out of the boxing business. Which is why I referred him to you.”

“And I thank you deeply,” she winked.

“I know, my beauty.” He exhaled. “But there is no need for thanks.” He paused. “When I was younger I was a boxer. Went as far as I could before the lure of pure white cocaine called me. Now, well, now despite being out of the game, I still have the eye to recognize a champion.” He stopped and stepped in front of her. “And I recognize that in you, King Nine. From the moment I saw your face.”

“I must admit, I was hoping you would lose.”

“You treasure my painting by Antoinette Bateau that much?” He chuckled. “I never knew you were into young whores who were decapitated by their pimps.”

“Neither did I until I saw the work of art on your wall,” she laughed. “Tell me, Sir Gates, how powerful do you think the human psyche is?” she asked seriously. “How much do you think a human can endure?”

He exhaled and they sat on a stone bench marked Francesca, which faced the vineyard. “Let’s see, when I first saw you, you were naked. Standing in front of the refrigerator. The skin on your back was shredded and I figured life would always be hard for you. And now here I stand, face to face with one of the most powerful women in the world. If that’s not an example of the strength of the human psyche, I don’t know what is.”

She blushed. “You are too good to me. In another life, I would love to see the future we could create. As husband and wife.” She looped her arm through his and leaned on his shoulder. “But now, well, now, we do well in coke and money and we will have to respect that.”

“You and your new drug connect have made me very rich.”

“Then why not let me buy you out of Baltimore. I am willing to pay any price you want. Just name it.”

“I guess I enjoy the business, Nine. What will I do without moving coke? Can you understand that?”

“But you said you were ready to retire. So let me help you with that. The beaches of Aruba are calling your name.”

He laughed. “The funny thing is if you want to overthrow me, you probably could.”

“That is not true,” she exhaled. “Your connections with your associates have been in place longer than I have been alive. They would never work with me if you do not bless the union and step down.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to be with me a little while longer.” He looked down at her. “You have a problem with that?”

“Sadly, I do not,” she giggled. “It would probably be my pleasure.” She gazed at her vineyard.

As they continued their conversation, Leaf looked out of the window, brewing with anger. He could never understand why she insisted on being in a personal relationship with Gates. But Leaf had plans for him and he couldn’t wait to put them into action.

If done right, his wife would be none the wiser.