Chapter Nine. Ember #3
He shifts his attention away from them after delivering the verbal version of a pink slip, and I don’t know whether to be impressed by his lack of fucks or horrified by his cavalier pop-lock with death.
Because I don’t need to be a mentalist or body language specialist to peep that both Xavier and Deacon crave it.
Even if I weren’t aware of their betrayals, the coldness in their gazes as they watch Asad would put me up on game.
“All of you probably know my people, but let me reintroduce you. Eli Rodney, my new second. Samuel Chavis, my advisor.”
Another current of murmurings undulates on the air, and I can’t blame them.
Shock catapults through me, and I jerk my head in Sam’s direction.
Traditionally, the leadership were members of the organization.
Though being Marcus’s best friend made him privy to all the workings of the Cross empire, Sam belongs to the corporate side.
As if he’s been lying in wait, he meets my gaze with a steady one of his own.
The other night in the library, he never mentioned being one of Asad’s newly appointed officers.
Hell, I didn’t even think the two liked each other. Oh, Sam has some explaining to do.
“And Makeda Hannah as my enforcer.”
If discovering Sam’s new appointment caused a stir, the announcement of a woman being in a key high-ranking position incites a tsunami that rushes through the room with shrieking winds.
“This is going too far,” the same man from earlier snaps, rising to his feet. “It’s one thing trying to force us to accept women in our ranks. But to place one in power above us? Having us report to a female? You’re going too far now. What the fuck was Marcus think—”
The rest of his sentence is cut off by a bullet to the forehead.
Blood sprays, splattering a couple of people nearest the body before it drops to the floor with a thud, knocking his chair back and sending it rolling several feet away from the table. I blink. So that’s why the floor in here is concrete. Easier to hose down the blood and brain matter.
Asad slides his Glock back into the shoulder holster under his suit jacket and continues as if he didn’t just blow the back of a man’s head out.
“His first mistake was interrupting me again. His second one was not taking the out I gave him and everybody in this room. I said if you couldn’t deal with the changes, you could walk out that door.
But since he decided to keep his ass in that seat, he chose the other way of leaving.
Mistake three.” He leans forward, planting his palms on the table.
His rich, heady scent taunts me, and all that dominant power teases my pussy.
“Challenging me. This is my first and last time saying this. Marcus is dead. His era as head of Cross is over, and now I’m running it.
And this ain’t a democracy; we don’t vote on shit.
Yes, I’ll take your opinions and suggestions under advisement, but I have the final say.
You have the right to not like it, but, muthafuckas, you better watch your delivery.
I don’t do disrespect well.” He scans everyone seated at the table and against the walls.
Including me. “Good, now that we’re clear, on to the next thing. ”
He straightens and slips his hands in his pants pockets, his manner calm as if he didn’t just threaten everyone in the room.
“Glass Slipper is still moving, and we’ve been contacted by the Morrel organization in Seattle. They’ve sampled Glass Slipper, and they’re looking for a plug to distribute it up there. I’m taking the meeting next week, and if that goes well, we’re going to expand. That leaves us with HEA. Ember?”
What? Me? I look at him, momentarily stunned.
After arriving, I expected to be a spectator, not a participant.
Him asking me to stand in front of a room full of Cross officers and speak is another break from a decades-long, patriarchal tradition.
Not to mention, this will not only be outing who I am but what I am to this company.
Outing a secret Marcus took such pains to keep concealed …
Asad tilts his head, and inhaling a low, deep breath, I slowly rise from my chair.
Anxiety twists and knots in my stomach. I’ve operated in the shadows for so long that a part of me has found comfort there.
Like I told Kareem, invisibility provides a defense, a natural shield.
And moving to stand next to Asad—no, in front of him, as he takes a step back and lets me have the head of the table—I’m suddenly too visible. Too exposed. Too vulnerable.
But on the other hand …
On the other hand, satisfaction surges through me, hot and fierce.
I belong here.
Marcus did everything in his power to prevent me from being in this place, from seeing this moment. From anyone within this organization that bore my name knowing my name. Yet, here I am. And not from a position of weakness but strength. My own strength.
With the help of him.
Yes. As much as I hate to admit it, with Asad’s help.
The why still lingers in my mind like a cardboard piece attempting to fit in the wrong jigsaw puzzle.
But trying to figure anything out about Asad lately seems the very definition of futility.
“As I discussed with Asad yesterday, HEA is nearly ready to be distributed. It’s tested well with control groups.
HEA resembles cocaine, and it’s highly addictive, but without the hallucinations, paranoia, and aggression, just to name a few side effects,” I inform them, fully in my element, talking about my area of knowledge and expertise.
Despite the grumbling that could be a reaction to the information I shared or my presence itself, I continue.
“The main difference between Glass Slipper and HEA is the latter’s meant to be more of an aphrodisiac.
It increases sexual arousal, heightens the senses, as it’s also a stimulant.
HEA is the perfect party drug for the affluent demographic between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five. ”
The silence damn near screams, it’s so loud. Several people glance at one another, confused frowns wrinkling their eyebrows or turning down their mouths.
“When will HEA be ready for us to give to our crews?” a beautiful woman with long, dark brown locs asks.
Obviously, she’s new to this HoC leadership.
It’s almost comically easy to distinguish between the old guard and the new.
Most of the former wear dark frowns and are sunken lower in their chairs.
Well, if she feels the disapproving glares from some of the men in the room for speaking, she doesn’t acknowledge them. Or maybe she just doesn’t give a fuck.
“Two weeks. Three at the most. And because it’s created to be a more accessible drug at a less expensive price point, the shoe designed for it to be shipped in will also be sold at a less expensive price point.
” I glance at Asad, and he nods, granting me permission to disclose this new information.
“House of Cross has always been known for couture, but as of the new season, we will roll out a new affordable line that will be stocked in department stores as well as outlet malls. We’ve already constructed how the shoes will be mules for HEA before they’re distributed. ”
And by “we,” I meant me. The new line consists of two designs—a beautiful knockoff of one of our best-selling open-toe stiletto sandals with ankle-strap rivet studs, and our version of a platform-heel saddle shoe in various colors.
The rhinestones, studs, and laces of the shoes will be coated with HEA and covered in a formula specially designed by me that renders the drugs undetectable by canine units, X-ray scanners, and chemical field testing if the shipments are detained.
And that’s a big if. Who would suspect the House of Cross of smuggling drugs?
No one has yet. At least if they had, they hadn’t lived to share their suspicions.
The woman with the locs nods at my answer, and a younger man with long box braids, sitting against the rear wall, gives a low chuckle.
“Okay, I’ma ask what everyone else is thinking but don’t have the balls to because they don’t wanna end up like Jay.” He nudges his chin toward the dead man on the floor. “No disrespect meant, but who are you?”
Michelle snorts. The first pinpricks of anger race over my scalp, down the back of my neck, and sprint down my spine.
It wouldn’t take much effort or time to reach over and snap her thin neck.
I can just hear the crack of her cervical vertebrae.
Can feel the hot spill of grim exultation in my veins lighting me up brighter than the Wilshire Grand.
Giving myself a mental shake, I refocus on the question and the man who issued it and away from my fantasy. Unlike some of the other men, I believe him when he says, “no disrespect.” There’s no aggression or disdain in his voice or face.
“I’m Ember Cross, the head scientist for Cross and the one responsible for designing Glass Slipper and HEA.”
Another street boss pushes off the wall, shifting forward a step. “Cross?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes. Marcus was my father.”
The room erupts with shouts that range from “The fuck?” to “You’s a lie.
” A couple of them twist in their seats as if looking for a “punked” camera, while others turn to each other in confusion.
The only people who don’t appear shocked besides my stepfamily, Sam, and those who were at dinner last night are Xavier and Deacon.
I don’t know why I’m surprised, as both men were extremely close to my father. And yet … I still am.
For years, I assumed I was Marcus’s shameful secret he literally kept hidden away in the basement.
The secret he did his best not to acknowledge to anyone outside of immediate family and Sam.
Knowing of their betrayal, it has to make me wonder if they’d actually been privy to the information—from what Sam told me, once my mom had me, I was basically hidden away.