Calla #2
“You’re welcome,” he replied easily, lips curving in that half-smirk that always made it hard to tell if he was joking or testing my pulse.
My eyes flicked to the folder. “That it?”
“Indeed, and your father is knee deep in some shit that’s bound to get him killed,” he said. “I pulled financials, personal, and otherwise, in living color.”
I closed my laptop, folded my hands, and met his eyes. “How bad?”
He gave a low, humorless laugh. “Bad enough that I had to double-check half of it just to believe it.”
“Try me.”
Lennox grabbed the folder he’d just slid on my desk, opening it to read what was inside. “Your father’s got offshore accounts in Belize and Malta, funneling money through two shell nonprofits. One of them was that mentorship program he set up a few years ago.”
I felt my stomach twist. “The one for underprivileged youth?”
He nodded once. “He’s been laundering money through it: falsified donations, dummy subcontractors, the works. Half the funds go to ghost accounts. He’s sloppy, probably desperate because he owes money to some people that will catch you no matter how far and fast you try to run.”
I exhaled slowly, flipping through the documents, transfers, falsified invoices, and signatures that looked familiar and sickening.
“And if that wasn’t pathetic enough,” Lennox continued, “his personal life’s a dumpster fire.
He’s got three active paternity suits pending, women from different states, all overlapping timelines.
The woman he married after divorcing your mother?
She’s been bleeding him dry. Shopping sprees, cosmetic procedures, luxury cars, she’s spending it faster than he can steal it. ”
A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Poetic justice.”
“Exactly, but he’s also cheating on her left and right, so her blowing through his money fast is karma.
” Lennox said. “She’s also talking to one of the tabloids.
There’s a younger woman who confronted her, and she’s fed up and ready to ruin what’s left of him, so he’s not far from public humiliation. ”
I leaned back, absorbing the weight of it. “So that’s why he’s circling. He’s broke and feeling cornered.”
“Exactly,” Lennox said. “You’re the last clean source of credibility he can leech from. He’s hoping to get reinstated at BlackSphere or force your brother into a payout under threat of scandal related to its newest CEO.”
My voice sharpened. “He has no real evidence, does he?”
“None that would hold up. As he told you, he’s been having you followed.
” Lennox’s tone softened, but his eyes didn’t.
“He’s got photos, nothing explicit, just you entering and leaving Provocateur, and the P.I and I use that term loosely is as novice as they came because he emailed the photos unencrypted and I grabbed them right from the cloud and then wiped every device he owns clean. ”
My pulse thudded in my ears. “So he’s fishing.”
“He’s framing,” Lennox corrected. “He doesn’t need proof to poison perception. All it takes is a whisper that the CEO of BlackSphere spends her weekends at a sex club, and he’ll have investors trembling.”
I swallowed hard. “He’s weaponizing my autonomy, again.”
“Because he knows it’s the only place society continues to falter,” Lennox said, observing me. “Men like him can’t handle women who own their power.”
I looked up, meeting his gaze. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
He smirked, slow and deliberate. “I’ve seen it, not to mention I’ve buried a few like him in the process.”
That last part wasn’t a threat; it was a confession.
Silence settled between us, thick and humming with something unspoken.
Finally, I asked, “What would it take to end this cleanly?”
He cocked his head. “You mean legally?”
“No,” I said, standing. “Effectively.”
He smiled, a dangerous, knowing curve of his mouth. “You’re asking me to make him disappear?”
“I’m asking you to make him irrelevant,” I replied evenly.
Something dark and approving flickered in his eyes. “Then I’ll make the right calls. Quiet ones.”
I exhaled. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He stepped closer, the air between us tightening. “When I’m done, his name won’t be salvageable. No one will touch him again, business or otherwise, and that kind of ruin has splashback.”
“I’m not afraid of getting dirty,” I said. “He’s been throwing mud at my whole life; it’s time he drowned in it.”
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “You’ve got your father’s cunning, but none of his cowardice, I respect that.”
“I don’t want his legacy,” I said quietly. “I’m building my own, and the foundation of it won’t be pain.”
Lennox’s smile was all teeth. “Then let me help you bury his.”
He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small black USB drive, and slid it across the desk. “Digital backup. Every transaction, every name, every photo, keep it off your network.”
As I reached for it, his fingers brushed mine, a spark, unintentional and far too deliberate all at once.
“You’ve got fire in you, Black,” he murmured. “It’s no wonder men either follow you or fear you.”
I held his gaze. “I prefer when they do both.”
He grinned, stepping back toward the door. “Fair enough.”
Pausing at the threshold, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.”
When the door shut behind him, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. My father was cornered, desperate, unraveling, and I had the proof of his decay sitting on my desk.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel fear, nor did I feel small in my father’s shadow; I wasn’t backing down. I was prepared to bully the bully.
If nothing, I pitied him.
Because men like him only destroy themselves, all you had to do was hand them the match, and Lennox Jackson just gave me the flame.
Finally making it home, I continued to dig through the dossier Lennox had given me, and if his legal transgressions didn’t land him in jail, his personal affairs would.
Apparently, he’d fathered multiple children throughout his marriage with our mother.
He was nearly seven figures in child support arrears, and the women were growing more relentless by the day in collecting what they were owed.
I didn’t blame them, but also, that was their burden to bear when you created a family with a married man.
As I savored my glass of wine, both James and Amiyah danced crossed my mind, and I smiled as I grabbed my phone, unlocking it as my thumb hovered over the group chat.
Me: Thinking about both of you tonight.
A pause. Then a second message.
Me: And before either of you overthink it, yes, exactly the way it sounds.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, and appeared again. A smile curved my mouth, slow and dangerous.
I poured myself another glass of wine and leaned back against the counter, the dossier still within reach but no longer commanding my attention.
I thought I would delight in Sr.’s life withering away like a diseased organ, every secret revealing a man unraveling.
The paternity suits, failed shell companies, a gold-digging wife eating through his assets faster than he could launder them, instead, I just felt…
tired. Tired of him doing harm when he has had the means and power to do good and be good.
Tired of the realization that there was nothing good about this man, that I was supposed to love and look up to, making me feel the exact opposite.
The only comfort that came from this was knowing that my mother, siblings, and I were goodness personified, further proving how you live your life, how you treat others is always a choice.
The gala had been a success, a blur of champagne, sharp smiles, and whispers behind masks.
I played my part, the quiet but powerful girl boss wrapped in silk, but underneath it all, I couldn’t stop thinking about them.
The way Amiyah had looked at me across the dance floor.
The way James had hovered protectively nearby, his touch low on my back like he owned the air I breathed.
I was still thinking about it when my phone buzzed against the counter.
James: I can be there in 20 minutes or less, just give me the command?
I smirked, my nipples hardening at his willingness to always submit to me.
Me: Down boy.
Amiyah: I miss you, Mistress.
My heart swelled at her admission.
James: Speaking of… I wanted to tell y’all something. Amiyah’s birthday is coming up…and.
I straightened in my chair, curiosity piqued.
Me: Oh? Should I be concerned or intrigued?
Amiyah: Wait. What are you up to, James?
A pause. Then the following message popped up, long enough that I could almost picture him typing with that crooked grin of his.
James: Pack a bag, both of you. I already booked the hotel. We’re going to NYC for Comic Con.
For a second, I blinked at the screen, certain I’d read it wrong, but a smile eased on my face. Then Amiyah’s reply came through, all caps and chaos.
Amiyah: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!
Amiyah: Comic Con?
Amiyah: IN NEW YORK?!
Her excitement bled through every word. I could almost hear the breathless disbelief in her voice, see the way her eyes would light up.
James: Yeah, baby. I figured it’s your birthday, and you’ve been talking about going for years around the office to anyone who would listen, and it felt like it was time to make it happen. It’s also the perfect time for a couple’s getaway.
Me: Mr. Carter, it makes my pussy wet when you’re a good boy without my having to tell you.
It makes my mouth water knowing that you love to submit and aim to please not just me but also the woman that makes my heart skip a beat.
I’ll be sure to reward you with all the pleasurable pain your body can handle.
James: Thank you, Mistress.
James: Oh, and Amiyah, I’m giving you complete control over our costumes.
I could feel the wicked grin in that message.
Amiyah: Mmm… complete control, huh? You sure about that?
James: Positive. I’m not scared of a little cosplay.
Me: You should be.
Amiyah: Oh, you definitely should be.
I laughed softly, the sound echoing through my penthouse. Talking to my loves, even through text, offered me a sense of relief I hadn’t felt since Sr. Placed his bullshit on my shoulders. This, them, was grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.
Me: Fine, but if you have me walking through Manhattan in spandex, Amiyah, I’ll find creative ways to make you regret it.
Amiyah: Promises, promises.
James: See? Y’all already plotting. This trip gonna be chaos.
Me: You started it.
James: And I’ll finish it.
I set the phone down, smiling to myself. The warmth between us was easy, natural, threaded with laughter and something more profound that none of us was quite ready to name.
The city outside glowed amber and restless.
Somewhere out there, Sr. was crumbling under his own greed.
Let him. I had bigger things to focus on, like what Amiyah might have planned for Comic Con, and, if I was being honest with myself, the thought of seeing them both again threaded my body with an excitement I hadn’t felt since The Black Dahlia was born.