Chapter Six. Asad
CHAPTER SIX
Asad
Triumph glows in my veins as I descend the steps outside of Ember’s apartment and reach the lobby.
If I was one of those goofy-ass, smiling mu’fuckas, a grin would stretch across my face from one ear to the other.
Sitting in her place all those hours and going back and forth with Ember had ultimately been worth it.
She’s marrying me.
She’s mine.
Did it require threats to the lives of people she loved? Yeah. Did she probably hate me more than ever? Most likely. Did I give a shit?
Fuck no.
I’m of the end-justifies-the-means school of thought.
I wasn’t walking out of there without what I wanted. Unfortunately for Ember, she’s just that. Years I’ve waited—waited for the right circumstances, the perfect opportunity. The stipulations in Marcus’s will provided that chance, and fuck I look like, not taking advantage?
Shit, will or not, Marcus dead or not—Ember was going to end up mine.
Too many times over the course of the years, I stayed, tethered to Marcus, playing second to him.
Biding my time. Because sooner or later, she would’ve been ready for me.
And nothing would’ve stopped me from claiming her as my own.
Not her father. Not my mother. Not even her.
I refused to walk away from this without Cross or her.
Yeah, I hadn’t been completely honest with Ember when she’d asked why this had to be marriage instead of a contract binding her to HoC.
Before Marcus died, he’d called me into his office and spoken to me about what was required of me if I intended to inherit his empire.
He and Michelle had their ideas of what that would look like.
And I had mine.
Stepping out of the building and onto the circular driveway, I glance over my shoulder toward the windows that belong to her space.
The glare of the sun prevents me from seeing into her apartment, but I don’t need to in order to picture Ember standing at that glass.
That thick, sexy-ass body on display. Her gold-and-brown hair pulled up and away from that stunning, strong face.
Mine.
In only days, all those curves will be laid out on my bed, naked, damp with sweat and cum, that hair a messy halo around her head, that face twisted in pleasure I’m doling out.
Fuck.
’Cause that’s what I intend to do. Fuck.
Hard, and so often she’ll feel me in her chest. And shit, as long as I’ve been waiting on her, baby girl will probably spend the first few weeks full of dick.
I hope Ember doesn’t harbor any crazy-ass idea of this marriage being in name only.
If she does, her pussy cumming all over my dick will let her know different.
I turn around as the blacked-out Range Rover pulls up and stops in front of me.
Just in time to prevent me from charging back inside and demanding she gives me a taste of what’s been driving me crazy for years.
Ember might claim to hate me, but the way those thighs were clenching beneath her dress says at least her pussy might have feelings for me.
The rear door opens, and Eli Rodney’s huge frame eases out.
I’m not a small man at six feet, five inches.
But the head of my security is damn near seven feet and is a gotdamn wall of pure muscle.
When people see him coming behind me, only the bravest of souls—or those flirting with death—will try him.
“We’re headed to the Castle,” I tell him, sliding into the backseat.
Instead of answering, he scans the immediate area and then follows me into the vehicle. As soon as the door closes, Tre, my driver for the day, pulls off.
“Everything good, Prince?” Eli asks.
I nod. “Yeah. Anything come up while I was gone?”
“No, it’s been quiet.”
“Good.” I pull my phone free of my suit pocket and check my messages and emails. After about ten minutes of replying to the ones my executive assistant marked urgent, I look at Eli. “Did Ro get back to you about any CCTV or traffic-cam footage around Marcus’s condo?”
As soon as I overheard Sam inform Ember that Marcus had been murdered, I put the members of my small, private circle made up of soldiers I implicitly trust without question to investigate.
Yes, I had my suspicions, but once I had full confirmation—first by Sam and then later with the ME herself—I immediately moved. Not for myself.
I’ma keep it one hundred. I really don’t give a shit. Marcus has wronged so many people in life, it’s play silly games, win silly prizes. It’s the nature of the beast when living in the world we do. But now I can’t let it go for two reasons.
One, the heads of the other crime families who do business with Cross ain’t trying to hear that.
And two, Ember deserves the truth. Even if from the sound of her conversation with Sam, she give less of a fuck than I do. One day though, she might. I want to have those answers for her.
So yeah, I put my people on this. And they’ve been with me for years as I secretly built my own power base outside of Marcus and the Cross empire.
They’re not loyal to HoC—they’re loyal to me.
Eli is one of those people, and so is Ro, short for Rochelle, Mills.
She might not say much, but she’s proven herself many times over and is a fucking genius when it comes to all things tech.
If she can’t find it or hack it, then the shit just can’t be done.
I’m lucky to have her on my side and not the law’s.
Unlike Marcus’s misogynistic bullshit, I don’t believe just because you don’t possess a dick you have no place in this organization.
Now that I’m head of this, all that shit gon’ change.
And whoever ain’t with it can get the fuck on.
And by that, I mean leave with a bullet in the back of their heads.
I’on trust not one muthafucka to come at me on some get back shit.
Fuck, I would. Nah, this ain’t that. Blood in, blood out.
Ember should’ve remembered that.
“Nah, she hasn’t found anything yet. She managed to get the security and Ring camera footage from the neighbors and surrounding businesses this morning, so she’s got that to go through, too.
” Pause. “You really think you’re going to find something?
I don’t know, but I think whoever was smart enough to make it look like Marcus overdosed would also have enough intelligence not to get their faces caught on video.
Especially since that couldn’t have been their first time visiting him.
Think about it. No sign of forced entry.
He had to let them in. And that was his fuck pad.
Only a limited number of people had access to it. Which means he had to grant it.”
I shrug, pocketing my phone. “All true,” I concede.
“But on the other hand, that same person didn’t have enough information about Marcus to know of his fear of needles.
So their attempt to make his death look like a heroin overdose is unbelievable.
Not to mention he had no track marks—shit, no marks at all except the one that took him out of here.
And for a lot of addicts, heroin isn’t the gateway drug that gets them hooked.
Weed, coke, even opioids. Then they move to the harder shit.
Marcus fucking ran a drug empire—a drug empire with the best designer drugs available, here and abroad—and the one he goes out on is heroin?
Nah, I’m not buying it. Not then and not now.
My stepfather was a whole host of things—a kingpin, a whore, a thief and murderer.
But an addict, or even recreational user, wasn’t one of them.
And whoever killed him should’ve known that, too.
The fact they didn’t means they damn well could’ve slipped up somewhere because they’re not careful enough. ”
“I’ll give you that.” Eli stares ahead, his eyes squinted. For the years I’ve known him, that’s his tell for him being in deep thought. “Why kill him? What’s the motive?”
Damn if I know. If I had to gather a list of criminal heads to murk—and let’s be clear, I have—Marcus only made my top five because I want his spot.
I can’t see him charting anyone else’s though.
Was Marcus a ruthless asshole? Yeah. But shit, what CEO isn’t at least a little sociopathic?
That doesn’t mean all them out here getting Luigi’d.
“Power. Money. Revenge. And if that’s the case, you got mad people to choose from. Shit, start with everyone named in his will, including me.”
“Facts. You know once the news of his murder goes public, most people are going to be looking at you, ’cause to them, you gained the most from his death. Then your people,” Eli says.
Ask me if I give a fuck.
Maybe Eli reads the answer in my silence because he laughs, shaking his head. He knows what type of time I’m on.
“You still plan on having that dinner at your place tomorrow night?” he asks.
“Yes, Mars got everything in place,” I say, referring to my executive assistant. “Only thing left to do is let Michelle and Kareem know about it.”
And Ember. I’ll need to shoot her a text about her required presence.
“Prince, man.” Eli blows out a breath. “This shit is a logistical nightmare, you realize that, right? Listen, I’ma give you credit that you’re not holding this at your main residence.
Ain’t no way that many people should know where you lay your head.
Especially ones we don’t trust, for real.
Still”—he shakes his head—“you got the heads of the Bratva, Yakuza, and Italian Mob, as well as all our street bosses all in one place.” He lists the names of the other crime organizations operating in LA, California, and this side of the country.
“The odds of all this going left? Man, there are better odds in Vegas of the fucking Browns winning … anything.”