“The secret is you soak the chicken strips overnight in buttermilk first before you batter the pieces. If you pick up the stuff, I’ll make it one night,” I tell Christine.
She smiles and the corners of her eyes crinkle. The woman has to be close to sixty and she reminds me exactly of my mother. My poor mother was a casualty in my life. I miss her.
“You look nice, Jessica,” she tells me when the timer goes off.
I’m perched at the bar and have been watching her cook. She flits around the kitchen as if she were born to do so. I could watch and chat with her for hours. Just like Mom and I used to do.
“Thanks, Christine. At least someone in this house thinks so,” I say with a groan. My eyes travel over something “more presentable” and I sigh. I’d donned a pair of dark skinny jeans, an off the shoulder pale pink cashmere sweater Cartier had purchased, and a pair of ballet flats. After Brax was an asshole this morning, I bothered Cart enough to where he finally broke down and spent a couple hours fixing me up.
She sets the lasagna on a hot pad and walks over to stand in front of me. Her hands go on her hips and she narrows her eyes at me. “Sometimes you’re too sassy for your own good. But, somehow that’s what makes that boy crazy for you. I’ve never seen him take to one of his girls the way he takes to you. Try not to drive him too crazy or push him too hard and I think maybe you might just last longer than his silly six month time limit that’s coming up. We like your refreshing personality here. And despite what you think, Brax knows. He knows that you are beautiful and intelligent and different. The other fellows, even fruity Cart, can’t deny how stunning you are. Play your cards right, sweetie. I’d love to keep you.”
My smile is immediate and I slide off the stool to run over to her. She envelopes me in her arms and I hug her tight. Inhaling her garlicky scent, I sigh into her hair. “I love you, Christine. You remind me of my mother.”
She pulls away and taps me on the nose. “Your mother is a lucky lady.”
Tears sting my eyes but I quickly blink them away.
“Miss, Mr. Kennedy and his dinner guest are speaking privately in his office,” Dubois’ clipped voice interrupts our exchange. “He’s asked that you’re at the table waiting for him. Christine, shall I tell him dinner is ready?”
Seemingly embarrassed, she tugs away from me and flutters around the kitchen. “Lasagna just came out of the oven. You may tell him it’s ready.”
I hold his stare for a minute. He’s ever dapper in his neat suit and his disdain for me is clearly painted on his features. I’m not sure why he hates me. Not wanting to irritate him, I nod and make my way to the dining room. As I enter the room, so does Braxton.
And some pretty black haired woman.
“This must be your newest toy. What a pleasure to meet you,” she says with a false smile before turning her adoring attention back to Brax.
“Bunny, this is Evette. She’s a Luxer. Black membership.”
I remember him mentioning we’d have guests to entertain from time to time, but so far, every time he brings someone else into the house, it ends in disaster.
“I see.” I can’t hide the disappointment in my voice. The woman seems better matched for him in her elegant black dress and oblong bobbed haircut. She is stunning and I’m . . . not.
However, Brax’s hungry gaze is devouring my appearance as if I’m the beautiful one here, not her. She’s shooting daggers at me with her eyes, clearly pissed at the revelation. Brax is sexy as hell so it’s no surprise that most women fall all over themselves around him. I’m still upset with him for lying to me but since I feel threatened by the woman beside him, I’m itching to stake my claim. Even if that means not acting like a brat about his lying and my blow up earlier.
“Did you take care of everything?” I purr as I make my way over to him. He’s tense as I reach him but the moment my hand slides up his chest, he groans. I press a soft kiss on his lips and then start away from him.
His grip finds my wrist and he holds me firmly. “Bunny.”
I smile and bat my eyelashes innocently at him. He releases me but his glare never wanes, searching for ulterior motives. My motive is the woman beside him—to display to her that he belongs to me. Flicking my eyes over to her, I smirk. Her nostrils flare but she takes her seat as if my presence doesn’t annoy the shit out of her. The woman wants Brax and that’s just too damn bad. He’s mine.
He sits down and she leans into him, whispering something into his ear I’m not privy to. His dark blue eyes turn their angry shade of grey and I want to climb over the table to yank her claws from his bicep. She told him something to infuriate him and now I hate her even more.
“Excuse me,” I say to anyone who’ll listen and stalk off toward the wine closet. I know Christine hasn’t chosen anything so I’ll grab a bottle—anything to get away from Evette’s disdainful glare. I’m just reaching for an expensive bottle of 2010 Louis Jadot Pouilly Fuissé from the shelf when I sense his presence. Heat, desire, anger—all rolled into one. It’s his signature aura when he isn’t playing the role of someone sweet and likable.
“So you just call another chick any time we have a fight? She whispers some garbage in your ear and you’re back to hating me? Is that it? You just needed a ‘how to be an asshole’ pep talk?” Bitter tears form in my eyes but I don’t let them fall.
His hands slip around me and he caresses my stomach. “Bunny, shut up.”
“No,” I counter. “I won’t shut up. Everything was fine until you lied to me. And then you invite some woman to flaunt her beauty in front of me just to be mean. Why? Why can’t we just be happy?”
He growls and twists me in his arms. I meet his angry stare and lift my chin. Everything about him screams at me to run but despite his bizarre fetishes, he’s not evil. I know evil.
“I can’t be happy. Playing with my toys is the closest thing I’ll ever come to any kind of happiness. It’s just not a part of who I am.” His words are simple but I hear a hint of vulnerability behind them. An undeniable sadness. A wound I want to heal for him.
“I can make you happy, Brax.”
His lips are on mine in an instant and he shoves me into the rack, bottles clang loudly as he kisses me. I whimper when his strong hand slides up under my soft shirt and finds my breast. He squeezes it and I moan.
“God, you’re so beautiful.” His mouth is all over mine, worshipping me. Hungry and eager. Curious about my promise to him. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t kill him because I wanted to make him fucking pay. It was too easy. He hurt you and that was too simple for him.”
His confession and apology warm me. Soon, I’m fumbling with his buttons, needing him to take me right here in the wine closet.
“And,” he breathes heavily as he tears away from my kiss, “no matter what you wear, no matter how little or a lot of makeup you’re wearing, you’re so goddamn beautiful it makes me crazy.”
I melt with his words. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Not one single thing.”
He groans and I palm his cheek. Our eyes search the other’s for answers that neither of us have.
“Bunny, I’m not right in the head. I want to hurt women. Sometimes I want to hurt you. I’m evil.” The shame in his words guts me.
Slipping my hands down to his slacks, I begin undoing them with quick fingers. “You think you’re evil, but you’re not. I’ve seen evil and I wouldn’t continue to stay here if I thought you were. In the past, when I danced with the devil, I found a way to escape. If I thought you were even half as horrible as that time in my life, I’d have already gone.”
A fierce roar grumbles in his throat and I drop to my knees. I take his throbbing length into my mouth and he hisses with pleasure when my tongue tastes his salty tip. I want him to feel with every lick, suck, and nibble that we have an undeniable explosive connection. As I take him deep, reveling in his satisfied grunts, I hope his mind is on the fact that he’ll never have someone suck his dick with such an eagerness to please as I do. This man thrives on control and I crave making him release the reigns only to have them drop to the floor beside me. Even if only while sucking his cock, I want him to lose his mind under my authority.
“Jesus, woman,” he hisses. “You’re killing me.”
His words fuel me to perform the final act. My teeth scrape his shaft and I squeeze his full balls in an effort to drive him to maddening bliss. A string of curse words belt from him as I eventually bring him to an orgasm that has him yanking at my perfectly styled hair.
After I swallow my appetizer, I stand and tuck him back into his pants, flashing him a pleased grin. “Best blow-jobs you’ll ever have, handsome.”
He grips onto my hair, and smashes his mouth to mine in an appreciative kiss. Once again, I’m banged against the shelves as he ravishes me with his expert tongue and perfect lips. When he finally tears away from me, his gaze is almost angry. But good angry. Brax sexy angry.
“I’ll never let you leave me. You’re mine, Jessica.”
My name on his lips is sweeter than any hit of heroin I used to crave. “You’re mine too, Braxton.”
The flight to Vegas a few weeks later isn’t long and I mostly daydream. It’ll be the first time I’ll visit his “legal” sex hotel and I’m anxious. I hope that dumb Evette chick won’t be there. At first, when I met her, I’d been threatened. But, once he and I cleared the air about our feelings, things got better. That night, Evette had pushed around the food on her plate while Brax and I inhaled ours. There was such a look of disappointment on his face when I asked her if she was on a diet because the lasagna was the best I’d ever eaten. Thankfully, his disappointment was pointed toward her and she knew it. Of course she blamed me for his sudden adoration of me over her. She’d tried multiple times to sneakily throw in my face that she was like him and I was merely a toy. But each time, I’d nudge his foot under the table and grin wickedly at him. To my delight, he’d smile back and wink. It was our own little secret.
“We’re almost there. It’s the biggest hotel on the strip. Half of it holds a casino and several five star restaurants. There are even a few select levels of rooms on the north side we rent out to keep the façade up. On the south side, the bulk of the rooms remain as well as some private dining establishments that are only available to our Black members. And we have some meeting rooms for when group events are held. I’ve gone to a couple of them but I prefer to play with my toy by myself.”
I take his hand as Dubois pulls the rental into a covered valet parking spot behind the building. Since Brax is the owner, I guess we get special privileges like back access. I’m eager, being that I’ve never been to Vegas, to try my hand at a few slot machines.
“What are we going to do? I’m excited to be here with you. It’ll be so romantic,” I gush as we climb out of the car. For the trip here, I’d settled on a white sweater dress with black leggings and black heeled boots. Cartier curled my hair into loose waves and had done my eyes up in smoky shades. Brax nearly devoured me when I exited the salon this morning but Dubois—the spoilsport—reminded him of our itinerary.
Brax stops and I turn to see why. His frown is immediate and I go to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Remember, Bunny, I’m here on business. I need to have a little chat with Trevor, meet with Jamal and Glenna, and I even have a game of golf scheduled with a client.”
My heart sinks but I nod. “Okay, well, I suppose I could venture out on my own. See what Vegas has to offer.”
He’s already shaking his head before I can finish. “Don’t leave the hotel. And when we get inside, one of the staff will give you a gold lanyard. You’re to wear it at all times. It’s what lets the other Luxers know you’re my toy. Nobody will touch you as long as you have it on. Other Black member’s toys will have black lanyards and the rest of the toys have white lanyards. If you come across someone without one, it means the Luxer wants to share his toy.”
I force a smile. “Lovely.”
“I don’t share, Bunny. You’re mine. I’d rather you stay in the penthouse suite until I get back but I know you and you’re a curious one. So promise me you’ll stay on this side of the casino and keep that lanyard on.”
Nodding, I start to walk inside. The door opens to a dark hallway where a nice-looking young man hands me the much coveted gold lanyard and a room key. I glance down the hallway to see that it leads to a set of elevators. When I turn around, Brax is leaned up against the counter with a frown marring his perfect features.
“What?”
“I’m supposed to meet my client now. You go on up and get comfortable. We’ll have dinner together later. Dubois will deposit the luggage and see to it if you need anything else.”
“Oh.”My disappointment is evident and he strides over to me.
“Jess, please don’t do this. Smile. This weekend can still be fun. Just let me get this shit over with and then I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
His lips drop to mine and he kisses me sweetly. I want him to take me up to the suite and make love to me. I’m becoming addicted to his touch and seeing him all day every day. Losing him for a few hours sort of guts me.
When he breaks away and flashes me a grin, I sigh and smile back. He’s hot but he’s beautiful too. An innocence always radiates from him, just below the surface, and I latch myself onto it. There’s something about Brax that I want to protect and nurture. But then there’s his devious side that I adore too. The side that sometimes hurts me in a way I like—a way that makes me want to beg for more. Because then, when it’s all over, sweet boyfriend material, Braxton shows up and fixes it all with his worshipping kisses and caresses. He’s confusing and multi-faceted but I want all of his layers all mixed up into the man who stands before me.
If he decides at the end of our contract he doesn’t want me, this could get complicated.
“Bye,” I wave and blow him a kiss. “I’ll try not to get into too much trouble.”
His eyes darken but he doesn’t follow me onto the elevator. I can see how much he’d rather be with me but duty calls. The elevator closes and my smile falls. With the close of the doors, I feel as though I’m severed from him. I don’t like that feeling.
I’m addicted to him.
I crave him.
I need him more than I ever needed the heroin.
Brax is my drug.
There are worse addictions, I suppose.
A smile plays on my lips as the elevator rises to the top. When it reaches the floor just below the penthouse, marked with a B instead of a number, the elevator dings. The doors slide open and I flick my gaze up.
The scent chokes me. The world spins on its axis. A hell I tried so hard to escape from consumes me in one shocked yet satisfied glare.
No! No! No!
“J-J-Jimmy, what are you doing here?” I stammer. My skin grows cold and my knees weaken upon seeing him. It’s been so long but he hasn’t changed much. There’s a little grey at his temples but aside from that, he’s the same.
Same evil man.
Same twisted-ass motherfucker.
“So you’re British now, Peach?” he scoffs. “You always were a good actress.” He steps into the elevator but leaves his foot blocking the door from closing. “I’ve missed you, Jessica. Six years is a long time to wonder where your wife has been. I’d located you in London where you were whoring yourself out but then you disappeared again. Now I get it. You’re Braxton Kennedy’s spoiled whore.” His eyes flicker knowingly to the gold lanyard in my grip.
Terror washes over me and I try to bolt past him. He snatches my bicep, his brutal fingers bruising me with his strength, and he forces me back inside. I yelp when he shoves me against the wall beside the panel of buttons. Reaching for the G, I mash at it. The doors start to close but his foot stops it.
His hand releases my arm and it’s on my throat, squeezing. Tears gush out over my cheeks and I swat at him to let me go.
“Did you think I wouldn’t ever find you again? You have no idea how much money I’ve spent trying to keep tabs on you. London was tricky because you fell off the grid for a while. But it wasn’t long before my sources led me to your little boyfriend.”
Does Brax know who this cruel bastard is?
He can’t know. I refuse to believe that. Braxton eats assholes like Jimmy for lunch.
“Let me go!” I hiss.
His grip tightens and he slams my head a couple of times into the wall behind me. Stars glitter in my vision and my knees wobble wildly. When I start to collapse, he grips me upright against the wall.
“I’ll tell him,” I choke out. “What you did to me.”
He laughs and it’s wicked. It chills me to my bones. Memories of a life with him assault me and I want to vomit. I hate him. I hate this man I was married to.
“I could ruin a motherfucker like Braxton Kennedy, Peach. You and I both know I have the connections to do so. We both know he dances on a fine line of what’s legal and what’s not. And my power is growing. I’m running for president in a few years. That’s right, bitch. He’s nothing and you’re nothing. You belong to me and I know exactly where to find you now.”
I squirm but he strikes me with the back of his hand, his knuckles cracking against my cheekbone. As I howl in pain, he sets to dragging me out of the elevator and into the hallway. The moment we’re out, he shoves me to the carpet and I feel the immediate burn in my elbows. I’m trying to recover when he kicks me in the ribs.
Just like old times.
I attempt to crawl away but he kicks me again, hard enough for me to puke on the carpet.
He’s going to kill me.
He has tried before and failed though.
“I-I-I will tell him. He cares about me.” My words are nothing more than a ragged rush of whispers.
“You’re delusional, Jessica. If you tell him, I’ll drag your ass all the way back to Georgia. He’ll go down for kidnapping my wife. Can you imagine the headlines? Illegal Sex Hotel Owner Kidnaps Presidential Hopeful’s Wife. The press will eat that shit up. Your precious master will spend the rest of his years getting ass-raped in prison. And you,” he spits out as he grabs me by my hair and drags me to my feet, “will come home and spend your years getting ass-raped or worse in your own personal prison.”
The sobs wracking through me are unrecognizable. I’m not this woman anymore. I’m not the woman who lets Jimmy break me.
He broke me over and over again. And that last time, he crushed the only beating part of my heart. He didn’t just break me, he obliterated me.
“I’m not coming with you.”
He laughs and it’s a bitter, harsh sound. “Not yet. I have appointments and shit, being a politician and all. I don’t have time to explain the sudden appearance of my wife. But I will come for you. You’ll be there for at least another couple months or so where he’ll be playing with you according to my research on him. That’s his thing—six months and then done. It makes me livid knowing he has you but I will bide my time. When your time is up, I will come for you. If you come willingly, my FTL relationship with Brax remains and I’ll extend leniency on you. He won’t go to prison. You’ll be a hero, Mrs. Dixon. Your missing whereabouts will be blamed on some other asshole and you will be a queen in the media’s eye.”
“And if I don’t agree?” The old me would have never challenged him. But the new me is slightly stronger.
“I’ll make your life a living hell.”
His face is red and furious, his hair messy. I watch him, with perfected practice, as he smooths his hair into place. As he tucks his Polo shirt back into his slacks. With the back of his hand, he wipes a bead of sweat off his brow. To any onlooker, he’s a handsome, successful, wealthy man.
To me, he’s evil personified.
He stole so much from me.
I won’t let him steal Braxton.
As I rise to my feet, I have a harder time recovering than him. Every part of me aches from his abuse. “How will you explain this?”
He shrugs his shoulders and smirks. “You weren’t wearing your lanyard. Those are the rules, baby. But you better make sure you let him know it was some other asshole and not me. I will find out, Jessica.”
I exhale in relief when he disappears into the elevators. Everything in me screams to take the next elevator down and tell Brax everything. I know Brax would hurt him. Ruin him even. At least I’d like to hope he would.
But I also know Jimmy all too well.
He’s fucking psychotic.
Jimmy would make it his life’s mission to rip apart my Braxton. And people like Christine and Cartier would be collateral damage. The very idea of Brax losing his beautiful home and sitting in a cold, dark cell has me sick again to my stomach.
But the thought of Jimmy and his wickedness at our Georgian home is too much. I can never go back there. Going back means certain death. He’s tried to kill me before and I don’t put it past him to do it again.
I’ll never go back there.
When my time is up, I’ll take Brax’s money and leave. I won’t let Jimmy ruin him but I also won’t go back to that monster. This is the only way.
Tears fall bitterly down my cheeks. I knew Braxton and I were too good to be true. Someone always yanks the proverbial rug out from under my feet.
Every damn time.