Chapter 16
SOLEI
Two Days Later
I told myself I was going to The Palace for work. I knew Richardson didn’t really want to take a plea deal for a fifteen-year sentence. He was just scared of Money and his goons. I was thinking that I could just talk to him and see where his head was at.
That’s what I told myself. That’s what I told Darius when he asked why I’d be working late yet again.
I knew he was getting pissed off and frustrated by my flip-flopping, but I needed to do this.
I needed to see Money and prove to myself that I could be in the same room with him without falling apart.
I needed to show him that I was still in control.
The Palace was packed as usual. Music pounded, lights flashed, and people in expensive clothes drank and pretended their lives were perfect.
I hadn’t been inside the club in ages. Walking through the crowd, I pushed the memories away.
I used to surprise Money at his office with a home-cooked meal, wearing only a trenchcoat and heels.
He’d fuck me against the desk while the club raged outside. God, help me.
I pushed the memory aside and headed towards the stairs near the VIP section.
Black, the bouncer, saw me first. He was standing near the bar, talking to someone I didn’t recognize, but his eyes tracked me across the room.
He said something to the guy and headed my way.
“What’s good, Solei?” His voice was neutral, but I saw the concern in his eyes.
“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“I’m just here to speak with Money about a case I’m working on.”
“That right?”
“That’s right.”
He studied me for a long moment. “Money’s upstairs in his office.”
“I’m well aware of that, Black.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You sure you wanna do this shit?”
“Do what, Black?”
“Whatever you’re about to do with this lame ass nigga you’re with. Because I know you, Solei. Known you since you were a paralegal pushin’ paperwork for corner boys. And I know that look in your eyes.”
“What look?” I raised an eyebrow and adjusted my Louie bag on my shoulder.
“The look that says you’re about to make a decision you can’t take back.”
My heart slammed, but I shook my head and scoffed. “Excuse me, Black.”
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the stairs. “You’re excused. You remember the way, right?” Black smirked, and I rolled my eyes.
I climbed the stairs, legs shaking, heels clicking against marble, breath too fast. The music faded as I got higher, replaced by muted club sounds. Money’s door was closed. Turn around, Solei. Go home. Instead, I knocked.
“Come in.” His voice sent shivers down my spine. I opened the door to see him behind his desk, looking over some papers. He glanced up, and when he saw me, everything stopped. The air. Time. My heart. He stood slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “What are you doin’ here?”
Closing the door behind me, I replied, “I need to talk to you about what happened with Alton Richardson and…”
“Bullshit.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it.” He came around the desk, moving toward me with predatory grace. “You’re not here about the case.”
“I am.”
“Then why are you shakin’?”
I looked down at my hands. He was right. They were trembling. “I’m not…"
“You are.” Money was close now, close enough that I could smell his Bleu de Chanel cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body. “You’re shakin’ ‘cause you know why you’re really here.”
“Nothing’s going to happen, Montana. So, if…”
“Nothin’ at all?”
“No. I’m here to…”
One second I was talking, and the next his mouth was on mine. His hands were wrapped around my throat, and his body was pressing me back against the door. I should have pushed him away. I should have slapped him and left.
Hell, I should have done anything except what I did, which was kiss him back. God, I kissed him back like I was drowning and he was my lifeline. My hands fisted in his collared shirt, pulling him closer, and I heard myself make a sound that was half moan, half sob.
Money broke the kiss, removed his hands from my throat, and placed them on the door above my head. He pressed his forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll let you walk out of here.”
I opened my mouth. Fuck. The words were right there. Stop. I don’t want this. Let me go. But they wouldn’t come.
“Soul.” His hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at him. “Tell me you love this nigga and you don’t want me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” He pulled back, his eyes burning into mine. “Say it.”
“I can’t.”
“Say it.”
“Because I love you!” The words tore out of me, angry, desperate, true. “I love you. I hate you. I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s destroying me.”
His expression shifted–triumph, possession.
He kissed me again, no gentleness now, just heat and hunger and eighteen months of yearning.
Money’s hands moved over my thighs, under my skirt.
I pulled at his shirt, desperate for his skin, desperate to remember being touched by someone who knew every inch of me. Then Darius’s face popped into my head.
“Stop,” I gasped, pushing him away and jumping back as if it burned.
Money stepped back, biting his bottom lip as he put some distance between us. Suddenly, the air in the room felt different. His expression hardened. “See, this is what the fuck we’re not gon’ do.”
“Money, I don’t…”
“Nah. We need to have a conversation, Soul. A real one. No more runnin’ and no more fuckin’ hidin’.”
“Now is not the…”
“Sit down.” The command in his voice made my knees weak for entirely different reasons now. Still, I didn’t move. “Sit… down.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Or I can make you. Your choice.”
My heart raced. This was the Money I remembered–the one who made demands and expected them to be followed. So, I sat.
He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “You wanna know why I let you walk away a year and a half ago?”
“Money, we don’t need to go there.”
“Because I thought you needed space. I thought if I gave you time, you’d realize what we had was worth fightin’ for.
That you’d come back on your own.” His jaw tightened.
“I was wrong as fuck. You didn’t come back.
Your ass just ran further. And now you’re fuckin’ another nigga and pretendin’ what we’ve had for the last fifteen years don’t exist.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” Money laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You wanna talk about fair? Let’s talk about fair, Solei. Let’s talk about all the shit we never said. All the shit you ran from instead of facin’.”
“I didn’t necessarily…”
“You fuckin’ ran.” He pushed off the desk, moving closer. “Instead of talkin’ to me, facin’ our bullshit, you packed your bags, took my kids… and left.”
“Are you forgetting you cheated on me?!” The words exploded out of me. “Multiple times with multiple women! You think I was supposed to just accept that? I told you what would happen! I told you!”
“Nah.” His voice was quiet now, dangerous. “I don't think you should’ve accepted it. I think you should’ve realized where you started lackin’ as a wife. Too tired for this, busy with that, refusin’ to represent my people. Just pullin’ away.”
“Fuck you, Montana! I did my part. I pulled my weight. I stayed down when you promised me over and over again that you’d be faithful and go legit.”
“And you were so fuckin’ perfect?” He leaned down, his hands on the armrests of my chair, caging me in. “Your little doctor friend is six feet under ‘cause you just had to let him play between your fuckin’ legs!”
“And you couldn’t handle it! Oh well. It was my turn to have a little fun!”
“It was a homicide waitin’ to happen.” He moved back to his desk, pouring himself a drink from the crystal decanter. “And don’t act like you didn’t know what would happen when you fucked around. You’ve always known who I am and what I’m capable of.”
“Yeah, I knew you were possessive. I didn’t know you were a psycho murderer.”
He took a sip of whiskey. “You’re my wife. The mother of my children. The only woman I’ve ever loved. So yeah, I’ll dead a nigga over you, especially a muthafucka gettin’ too close.”
“Like Darius, right?”
His hand tightened on the glass, smirking. “He’s already got enough issues. I’m not trippin’ off him.”
Fear spiked through me. “What… what are you talking about?”
“I’m talkin’ about the fact that your perfect, stable fiancé has been embezzlin’ from his company for the past three years. I’m talkin’ about wire fraud, money launderin’, and about six other felonies that could put him away for at least a decade.”
My mouth went dry. “You’re fucking lying.”
“I’m not and I got proof. Bank statements, wire transfers, and emails.
Everything the FBI would need to build a case, and you know my pull.
” Money picked up his glass again. “So like I said, Darius is a problem that I’m handlin’.
Without layin’ a finger on his bitch ass.
Without you followin’ my orders to end it. ”
“My God. Why can’t you just…?”
“Stop.” He drained the whiskey. “Before you get all self-righteous, remember that you’re the one who came here tonight. You’re the one who kissed me back. You’re the one who said you still love me.”
Shaking my head, I narrowed my eyes. “That doesn’t give you the right to…”
“I don’t need fuckin’ rights, Soul. I take what’s mine.” He moved toward me again, and I stood up, backing away. “And you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”
“I’m not your property, Montana.”