Rich Girl Problems (16 page)

J
ournee slid her bumble bee Chanel's down the bridge of her nose and placed them on the table next to her glass of white wine. She looked over at Chaunci, who marched to the table, flopped down in the booth, and said, “What the fuck is Xavier doing out of prison!”

“Ask the parole board.”

“You told me he had life!”

“I'm not the judge and jury! Shit. I wasn't there when he was sentenced. I thought he had life. I guess I was mistaken, because he's walking the damn streets, living in my damn house, and haunting me!”

“So you knew he was out?”

“Obviously.”

“And you didn't think to tell me?”

“Bitch, I don't speak to you. Remember?”

“Look, your ex-boyfriend showed up at my office demanding twenty million dollars in cash! I don't have twenty million to give him!”

“Hell, he wants even more from me! He wants half of Zachary's fortune—”

“That is his father!”

“That's not my damn problem!”

“I don't believe this.” Chaunci shook her head. “What the hell are we going to do?”

“We have to pay him.”

“I don't have the money to pay him!”

“Then we'll have to kill him!”

“Oh, God!”

“Either that or we go to prison because this motherfucker's set us up and sold the feds some craziness! You know his ass is mad and ruthless.”

“We can't kill him.” Chaunci shook her head.

“Then what are we going to do?”

“Pay his ass.” Chaunci stood up. “I need to go.”

“Where?”

“To get some damn money.” She stormed out, practically knocking the waitress over on her way to the door.

Journee sat and sipped the rest of her wine. She fiddled with her cell phone before dialing a number. “Hey, I need you to arrange something for me.”

“Y
ou wanted to see me.” Chaunci walked into Grant's office, placing her purse on the edge of his desk.

“I should fire you; you know that.” He leaned back in his black leather chair.

“Please do, so that I can sue your ass. I could use the money. Now what do you want?”

“I'm not sure how to answer that. Should I start with the business and end with the personal?”

“Personal? And what would that be?”

“That I want you. I thought that would be obvious.”

“Never. Now you may have bought this company, but my ass didn't come with it. Now. What. Is. It?”

“So let's start with business. We need to pull
Nubian Diva
from the stands.”

“What?”

“We need to make it an online magazine only.”

“Hell no.”

“It's not making any money in print. All of the money is made from the sponsors on the electronic version.”

“No.”

“The cost to print the magazine far exceeds the profit. I don't see any other way to turn this around. Also,
Morgan Financial
needs to become a quarterly magazine as opposed to a monthly one. And those book deals you were negotiating—off the table.”

“What?”

“Oh, and we need to fire Julie.”

Chaunci tapped the soles of her shoes on the carpet. “I tell you what—do whatever you want to do; obviously I don't have any power anymore.” She sat back in her chair.

“I'm trying to include you.”

“You're trying to include me in your hostile takeover of my company? Hilarious.”

“Listen—”

“No, you listen. Just buy me out. I'll sell you my forty-nine percent and the entire company will be all yours.”

“And why would I want to buy you out?”

“Because we will never be able to work together. I can guarantee you that I will be the nastiest bitch you've ever seen. So just buy my shares and let me walk away free and clear.”

“You got it.” Grant pulled twenty dollars from his wallet and slapped it on his desk. “There you go.”

Chaunci was stunned. “Are you crazy? Twenty dollars? What are you trying to do, insult my intelligence?”

“You're trying to insult mine. You tore this damn company up making piss poor decisions. Perhaps instead of being on a reality show, you should've been present in your reality and dealing with your company. Now you want me to buy you out. So here you go.” He stabbed an index finger into the money. “Take the twenty dollars and leave.”

“It's taking everything in me not to haul off and slap the shit out of you.”

“Aggressive. I like that.” He smiled. “So does that mean you'd want your hair pulled when I hit it from the back?”

“Fuck you!”

“That's what I'm trying to do. That's the point of it all. Now if you seriously want me to buy you out, then you and I could go away for a night, have the time of our lives, and who knows, by the end of the night, let's see what we can arrange.”

“So you think I'm a whore? That's what you think this is?”

“A whore?” He frowned. “A whore is a lowlife with low standards and absolutely no money.”

Chaunci walked over to Grant and sat on his lap. She stroked his face and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You are fine as hell. I'll give you that. And this package that I'm sitting on seems to defy the white boy myth, that's for sure. But you will never ever hit this from the back or otherwise.” She stood up. “Good day, Mr. Preston.” She walked out of his office and quickly doubled back. “And, no, you cannot fire Julie!”

A Month Later

 

“T
he exclusive club Noir Amour was filled wall to wall with A-list celebrities, athletes, a multitude of reporters, bloggers, and of course,
Millionaire Wives Club
cameras were there to capture the night.

“Ladies.” I walked over to Jaise, Vera, and Rowanda. “I have to say, I'm surprised you two came. Say something to the camera for me please. Let's start with you Rowanda.” Carl zoomed in. Rowanda smiled and it was beyond obvious that she was not ready for prime time. “I'm just happy to be here.” She nervously shifted her eyes. “This is a beautiful club and I think we're going to have a fabulous time tonight.”

“And you, Vera?” I said.

Vera popped her lips and looked directly into the camera. “I only came because I'm contracted to be here.” Vera cocked her neck to the right for emphasis.

“Well”—Jaise batted her lashes—“I'm here because I always try to be the bigger person.”

Vera looked at Jaise in shock. “Bitch, swerve. You know you can't stand her.”

“I can't stand her. And I absolutely think she's South Bronx ratchet. Hoodboogger. But we had to make an effort. You know Milan doesn't really have any friends.”

“And after that nasty interview she did cursing out every black woman in America, she will never have any friends.”

Jaise paused. “And where the hell is Chaunci? Did she or did she not sign the same contract that we did? And if so, why is she never around? And where is Journee? What kind of games are you playing this season, Bridget?”

“Don't worry about them.” Vera waved her hand. “We have fulfilled our contractual obligation and now we gon' eat, drink some of this liquor, and go home with a buzz.”

“Shhh . . . everyone, here they come!” The host spoke softly into the microphone. “Someone hit the lights.”

“Surprise!” The crowd yelled as Kendu took a quick step out of the door and then reentered, obviously caught off guard but happily surprised.

“Happy birthday, baby. Tonight is all about you,” Milan said as she hugged Kendu tightly before holding his hand and walking him to the center of the dance floor.

The host handed Milan the microphone. She turned and looked at Kendu. “I would like to wish you, my best friend, my lover, my husband, my everything, a wonderful birthday! I know you don't like surprises and you've never wanted a party, but I feel you deserved one! You're the best, baby, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And absolutely nothing I would trade you for.”

“I love you, too,” Kendu said as he took the microphone from Milan's hand. “This is . . . this is such a surprise. She got me. I thought we were coming here for an intimate dinner.” He laughed. “I just wanna take this moment to thank my wife. The love of my life. She's been there when I didn't have nobody and was moving from foster home to foster home. Most of you know I was a foster child until the age of ten. Which is why I never thought my birthday was a big deal. Until now. Which is why I'ma end this with saying, let's turn up!”

“I have to go.” Rowanda looked at Vera, her eyes gleaming with tears.

“You have to go? What do you mean you have to go? What's wrong?” Vera looked confused. “Tell me.”

“Nothing. I just need to get out of here. I can't breathe.”

“I
know what you're thinking,” Emory said, looking at Chaunci's reflection as she sat at her vanity mirror and brushed foundation onto her face.

Don't try and read my mind.

He continued, “I don't have anything against your friends. You already know Kendu is my boy, but I just don't want to be bothered with those cameras. I just can't with reality TV.”

“You told me that already.”

“I've had enough of those cameras in my face and in my life.”

“You've said that too.”

“I've had enough of people stopping me on the street. I'm tired of media saying and printing shit about me—none of it true—and on top of that, the publicity does nothing for my business.”

“I get it, Emory. You don't have to keep explaining.”

“I just want you to understand.”

Chaunci lifted her eyes from her foundation compact and looked at Emory's reflection. “I never expected you to come. So you don't have to keep explaining yourself. The surprise for me would've been you agreeing to be on screen.”

“Thank you for being so understanding.”

Chaunci turned and faced him. “Of course I understand.” She kissed him. “And I'll call you when I get back in. You're going back home to your place, right?”

“Yeah, at least for tonight. I haven't been there in weeks.” He tapped her on the behind. “Make sure everyone sees that ring and knows that you have a man.”

Chaunci chuckled. “I will make sure everyone sees the ring.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now,” She pointed to the massive gift in the corner of her dressing room. “Can you help me carry that downstairs to my car?”

“Of course.” Emory picked up the wrapped box and cradled it in his arms. “Damn, baby, what's in the box?”

 

I have lost my mind.
Chaunci unwrapped the gift and took out her overnight bag, tossing the happy birthday wrapping paper onto her backseat. She took one last peek at herself in the mirror before stepping out of her car and onto the private tarmac.

Just relax.

It's business.

“A share for your thoughts,” Grant said as he walked out of the hanger and kissed Chaunci softly on the cheek.

Chaunci pursed her lips. “Funny.”

Grant smiled as he reached for her bag and escorted her to his private jet.

Chaunci took her seat on a chocolate leather sofa. “Why couldn't we stay the night somewhere in the tri-state?”

Grant frowned. “The tri-state? I'm trying to impress you.”

“Oh, you're trying to create ambiance?”

“Exactly. Can you allow me to do that? I'm on a mission here.”

“And what mission is that?”

“To make you mine.”

“So you think you should have me and my company. So you're hostile in everything that you do.”

“Let me make this clear. At any given moment, you are free to leave. Just let me know and I'll tell the pilot to turn the plane around and take you home. Choice is yours.”

Chaunci hated that his cockiness was a complete turn-on. “When I'm ready to leave, I'll be sure to let you know.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” He handed her a glass of wine.

I have truly lost my mind. I've lied to my fiancé. I've lost my company to this man. And I'm sitting here with a wet pussy hoping that his slick tongue knows how to eat it and his dick is as big and aggressive as his actions.

“So . . .” Grant sat down next to Chaunci. “You want to do small talk first or would you like to start by telling me why you really want me to buy your share of the company?”

“You know why. We can't work together.”

“You're a horrible liar.”

“So then why don't you tell me why I want to sell you my part of the company?”

“Well, I know that it has nothing to do with you not being able to work with me. Because for the past month, we've managed.”

“You wouldn't stop flirting with me. Everywhere I looked, you were in my way.”

“I was trying to be in your way.”

“You've succeeded. But you still haven't told me why I want to sell you my part of the company.”

“Xavier Dupree, that's why.”

Immediately, sweat bubbled on Chaunci's forehead. “What?”

“Come on, Chaunci. I know you need the money to pay him off.”

“Who told you that?!”

“A man comes to see you every day for a week and he might think that no one knows who he is, but I know exactly who he is—oil tycoon Zachary Dupree's troubled son. He was just paroled recently after committing a bank robbery ten years ago. He was the only one the police caught. One died and the other two—two women—both got away. I've seen the tapes and one of the women was about your height. Your size—”

“How did you see the tapes?”

“It was my father's bank.”

Shit
. “All you need to know is that I need to give him some money so he can get the fuck away from me. Period.”

“And that's why you want to sell me your share of our company.”

Our company . . .
“Exactly.”

“I'll take care of it.”

His ease made Chaunci shift in her seat. “Why? Why would you want to do anything for me?”

“The real question is why can't you accept anything. I don't know about anyone else in your life, but I play for keeps. And two people I don't need getting in my way: your fiancé and some two-bit junkie-ass ticking time bomb.”

“You just take care of the time bomb.”

“And you take care of the fiancé.”

 

No matter what, I'm not fucking him.

That was what Chaunci thought the moment she stepped off the plane at a small hangar on Pine Island, off the coast of Florida. Grant held her by the hand as they walked down the dock and stepped onto his snow-white yacht.

The yacht was breathtaking. Three decks overlooked the moonlit water. A double staircase seemed to rise out of the gleaming hardwood floor in the foyer, leading to the second floor where there was a massive master suite, a game room, movie theater, and a great room, all with panoramic views of the Atlantic ocean. “This place is beautiful,” Chaunci said in amazement. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” Grant held her around the waist. “It's a place I come to when I need to think.”

“A sanctuary.” She snuggled her back and behind deeper into his body.

“I guess you could call it that.”

Grant held Chaunci's hand and led her to the upper deck to a white linen-covered table with orchids in the center. A chef stood behind a portable platinum dinner cart.

Grant held out Chaunci's chair and she took her seat.

“Before the night gets started, can you do something for me?” he asked.

“What's that?”

“Forget about everything in New York. Be present in this moment. Just for tonight, all that exists is you and me.”

Chaunci hesitated. She looked into the distance and as the ship set sail, she looked down at her engagement ring.

Grant slipped it off. “Nothing else exists.” He slipped the ring into his pocket.

“Only for this moment.”

“That's all I need.”

“This evening,” the chef said, “I have prepared a dish of curry duck with a sauce made from okra and peppers.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Chaunci smiled.

The chef served them their dinner and left. Before either of them could finish their meals, they'd talked about practically everything under the sun.

“You mean to tell me that you are really a Knicks fan?” Chaunci laughed. “Grant, you're far too intelligent for that.”

“I'm a die-hard Knicks fan. Spike Lee has nothing on me. They are the best team in the league.” He picked up a forkful of duck and ate it.

“What league? Geriatrics? They're all old, injured, and the last time they had any hope of a ring”—she popped her fingers—“was never.”

“False. Remember twenty-twelve? Knicks versus Heat.” He sipped his wine.

“And why the hell are you so invested in the Knicks?”

“I own them.”

“Figures,” she retorted.

“What do you mean ‘figures'? So are you one of these traders who switched up and became a diehard for Brooklyn?”

“No. I'm a Lakers girl.” Chaunci ate a forkful of vegetables.

“Lakers? How did a New York girl become a cheerleader for the Lakers?”

“First of all, I'm originally from North Carolina.”

“What part?”

“A small town called Murfreesboro.”

“Ahh, east Carolina. A country girl.” He smiled.

“You could say that.”

“You get back there often?”

“No. But my family is still there. Now, let's talk about you and why you really insisted on having a date with me.”

“I told you I was trying to impress you.”

“Why?”

“The truth?”

“Always.”

“Because the first time I saw you on TV, I had to have you. My assistant was sneaking and watching your show and I walked in. I thought you were the prettiest woman I'd ever seen. I had to know who you were.”

“Oh, I get it now. You're an egotistical maniac whose rich boy way of courting is to play dirty by coming after my company and making me pay you some attention.”

“What if I said you were right? Would it change the way you're feeling right now?”

Chaunci stared off into the distance and then brought her eyes to meet his. “No.”

By the time they had finished dinner, they'd held a million different conversations. All made both of them laugh, smile, and lose track of time.

“This was a beautiful date.” Chaunci laid her head on Grant's chest as they sat on the deck, reclining on a sofa overlooking the water.

“It's just getting started.”

“Is that so?” Chaunci stroked his rugged beard and ran a hand across his lips.

He kissed her fingertips and Chaunci looked intensely into his green eyes and kissed him, deeply. Passionately. She felt his hands easing up her thighs and she let them travel and wander into her pulsating middle, seducing her wetness to run its course.

He lifted her dress over her head and stared down at her body. “Damn, you're beautiful.”

Chaunci unbuckled his pants, revealing his beautiful eleven inches. His dick was one of the prettiest she'd ever seen. The veins pulsating on the side of its mushroom-shaped head made her salivate.

Grant leaned in and kissed her, his sensual sucks going from her bottom lip to her chin, to her chocolate nipples, which he licked and kissed, pulled and popped between his lips. And as he sucked her right breast, he fingered her left one.

Chaunci's thighs nervously twitched as he moved down her stomach, kissing every inch of her skin, moving his mouth to envelope her clit. He French-kissed her slit, snaking his tongue in and out of it. Licking and lapping until all Chaunci could do was pant until he entered her.

He slid his hard and pulsating member into her wetness. Chaunci drew in a deep breath and then she hummed a sensual moan to accompany the sweet music of his scrotum slapping against her pussy lips.

He pounded. She pushed back. And their hips danced until she rolled on top of him with the ocean breeze blowing against her back.