Hostile Takeover (Blackwood Billions, #1)

by Christina C. Jones

“Oh.” I chuckled. “Audacity in abundance. I like it,”

“Just because this marriage might be convenient, you need to understand something right now; it ain’t fake. I’m gonna parade you in public, fuck you in private, and otherwise ignore you, just like most wealthy marriages.”

With that, she walked past me, a blur of intoxicating perfume, silky hair, hypnotic ass, and anger. I took a deep breath before I followed. I could not wait to fuck the shit out of her.

There wasn’t anything I could do. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t let him do to me, at that point.

“You’re surrounded by luxury and peace, with an unlimited bank account at your disposal, and have a man willing lick any and all parts of your body at your discretion. A lot of people would kill to be ‘fucked over’ this way.”

“Nobody is asking your ass to predict the future, but that nigga ran up in my shit—yes, mine, because you, Nalani, are mine—snatching on you like he runs something and it never crossed your mind that might be something I needed to know about from you?”

But more importantly,” he added, grabbing me under the chin. “Soren said you were scared. And my wife doesn’t have to be scared of anybody.”

“He’s not dead. Do you want him to be?” She considered it, then shook her head. “I don’t feel comfortable giving you my blessing to have somebody killed. But… I like that you offered,” she admitted, bringing a smirk to my face. “I’ve already explained that to you, Nala… anything for my wife.”

“Don't front Nala,” Morgan said. “We all know you're unfazed until you're not. And then you're very fucking fazed.

“Not at all, you should be admired,” he answered. “I’d just like everybody to know who you belong to while they’re looking.”

“Oh, I did.” I grinned. “Because see… I warned you. On Christmas day, remember?” I asked. “I made it clear that you were to stay away from my wife. And listen… I know you didn’t know, but I still consider that strike one. ’Cause you were disrespectful.” “But these niggas aren’t—” “And then, there was strike two.” I kept talking. “You put your hands on her, put a bruise on my wife. You told her I couldn’t protect her. I told her she would never have to worry about that again. And then… strike three. You turned me into a liar, Eric.”

“You get well paid for it,” I reminded her. “I need you to book a trip, just me and my wife. She likes the beach, so… somewhere on a beach. Very private. As luxurious as humanly possible. No budget.”

“So great sex and a bottomless wallet, those are my assets, huh?”