SIX WEEKS LATER
“I don’t give a shit what they said. I told you what needs to happen!”
“Mr. Blackwood, with all due respect—”
“If you can’t make it happen, Wes, what the fuck do I need you for? Huh?” I got up from my seat at the head of the conference table.
I was sick of people telling me what I couldn’t have and what they couldn’t do for me. I was tired of the excuses. Get the shit done or get the fuck off my ship was my motto.
This corporate takeover of Ventura Assets, a financial investment firm, was never supposed to be a hostile takeover, but because Wesley Stokes, one of my investment bankers had fumbled the ball early in the process, we were at this point.
I looked around the table at Wes; Sebastian Chambers, the other investment banker; Colton Webster and Peter Calloway, my mergers and acquisitions attorneys; Elian Jacobs, my COO; and Francesca “Frankie” Porter, my executive assistant and right hand.
“I said I wanted a muthafuckin’ dream team at this table, and y’all sitting here killing the dream. Do I need to dismantle the team and build one from scratch? Because if so, it’s going to hit y’all’s pockets hard.”
There were a series of muttered “no’s” around the table.
My team was used to my cantankerous nature, so I wasn’t sure why they’d given me so much pushback on the deal.
I didn’t take no for an answer in anything that I did.
I could also be the most professional person I knew, but when people started acting an ass and like they didn’t understand my requests, I would go straight back to the hood on them.
I owned and was the CEO of Blackwood Realty, a commercial real estate company and Blackwood Investments, commercial banking and investment banking firms under JCB power was even better in measure.
Yet, none of that could replace the love of having family around you to enjoy it, share it, and keep you humble and guide you.
There were few people in my life who I completely trusted.
Sure, there were people I trusted with parts of myself, but there were only three people who knew the real me.
I didn’t even have a woman in my life that I could trust with anything, especially not my heart.
Only two women held that privilege, and I would never give it to another one.
Shenobi Quarterman, was the woman I vowed to marry.
We met at eighteen, and she was by my side until twenty-two.
I hadn’t meant to push her away, but my grief wouldn’t let me fight for her.
She wanted the old me, not the person I was becoming.
The next woman who gained my heart, came years after I thought I was healed.
Jessica Monroe, was my woman for three years between the ages of thirty three and thirty six.
I thought we were on the same page with living life, building our empires, and having a committed relationship.
When she changed her mind about wanting marriage and kids, I knew it was over.
Those weren’t things that fit into my life.
I gave her everything that I could possibly give; unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.
Since then, there was nothing but a string of meaningless affairs.
I found companionship in North Carolina at Club Prestige or in Miami at Kings and Queens.
Both were exclusive members-only adult clubs that offered a variety of options to please its members sexual appetites.
They were the perfect fit for me because I didn’t have to put too much into caring for someone’s emotions or trying to navigate the requirements of a relationship.
I was free to appease my body’s desires, and I could move on freely after the encounter.
“What needs to happen to make this deal go through?” I asked.
“We’ll structure a feasible financial offer they cannot refuse and one that makes sense to your bottom line,” Sebastian stated.
I turned to Colton and Peter next. “We’re reviewing securities regulations and antitrust requirements to make sure that we’re covered on our end,” Peter declared.
I nodded and as the discussions went on, I paced around the office trying to calm my temper. I needed a cigar, but I didn’t smoke in meetings or around my staff, unless we were having the rare team outing.
I took a seat after a while, but I still was agitated.
My glance bounced around the room and then to the security monitors on the wall.
No matter which one of my buildings I was in, I could see an image of everything that was taking place in and around the building at any given moment.
I had monitors in my offices across the city because I didn’t take protection lightly, and I never wanted my bodyguard or myself to be caught off guard.
My hands weren’t clean, and I had a past. There was always a chance my past could catch up with me, so I tried to remain one step ahead at all times. My eyes scanned the monitors as I listened to the conversation in the room.
A woman caught my attention. It wasn’t rare for me to see a beautiful woman who I found attractive.
There was something different about this woman, though.
She was talking to Rodney, one of the security guards at the front desk.
She wasn’t wearing heels, so I gauged her height to be about five-ten, because I knew Chris was six-one.
Plump, oval-shaped lips set in a cappuccino-colored, diamond-shaped face.
She fingered her left, arched eyebrow before it rose in frustration as she pinched the bridge of her slim nose.
The woman’s angular cheekbones appeared to be turning somewhat red with emotion, and I wondered if they turned that color when she was aroused.
She was slim with noticeable curves and definitely toned as though she worked out frequently. Bone straight hair was parted in the middle and pulled back in a ponytail that caressed the top of her shapely, round ass.
I couldn’t help but wonder what her hair might look like against her body while she was naked . . . and wet.
I stood and walked to the monitor with my arm resting at my midsection. My finger settled over my top lip and underneath my nose as I observed their exchange. Clearly, Rodney was telling her something she hadn’t wanted to hear.
When I glanced back around the room, I noticed that everyone was focused on what Colton was saying.
Only Elian watched me intently. I turned my gaze back to the monitor, and she was still speaking.
She shifted an oversized bag on her arm and removed her sunglasses from her face.
My eyes took in the length of her long, toned but curvy legs in the denim cutoff jeans she wore.
When she spun around briefly and pointed at the elevators, I noticed that her ruffled brown and yellow blouse and the denim cutoff vest, rose up just enough for me to see a diamond piercing in her belly button.
I glanced back down at the cowboy boots on her feet.
She was sexy in her little getup, and she fascinated the hell out of me.
When she fingered her left eyebrow for the third time, I could tell that was a sign of stress for her. She said something else, threw her hands up, and left the building.
I frowned as I turned back to my team.
“I have another meeting I have to hop into. Move forward with my orders and keep me updated. If you need anything, check in with Elian,” I commanded, grabbing my laptop and my phone and heading for the door.
I ignored their stares of bewilderment. I knew that they couldn’t fathom what could be more important than this meeting, because I never walked out on a merger and acquisitions meeting.
Moments later, when I was in my office, I locked the door and turned on every monitor in and around the building. A scowl marred my face as frustration set in. I couldn’t find her. I should have been able to locate her on one of the cameras that surrounded the building and the parking lot.
Just as I was about to race down to the lobby, I spotted her stepping from the shadows.
She was on her phone. She must have been standing in a spot just out of the camera’s sight.
She ended the call as a man roughly in his early forties approached her.
They spoke briefly before he nodded and walked toward a moving van.
I surmised he must have been one of her employees.
She walked toward a recent model silver Mercedes Benz CLE cabriolet. It appeared to be a recent model. As I watched her, I called down to the security desk.
“Hello, Mr. Blackwood. How may I assist you?” Rodney greeted.
“The lady that you were having a conversation with just moments ago. Who is she?”
“Oh, she’s a new tenant, Camilla Valentine, the owner of ColorMe CEO.”
“What seems to be the issue with her?”
“She wasn’t advised that she has to take her things around back to the loading dock and have them moved in on the service elevator. I explained to her that the lobby can’t be used for moving.”
“Did she want to use the lobby for furniture or just specific things?”
“I uhm, . . . I’m not sure, sir.”
“Go find her and let her know she can use the lobby for anything that isn’t furniture.”
“Yes, sir.”
I ended the call without another word. Rodney rushed out of the building and met up with her.
As I watched him set things straight with her and escort her back into the building, I made three separate calls: one to the maintenance supervisor, Chris McIntire, to ensure the office suite for ColorMe CEO was ready; one to Waylen “Brick” Grant at Elite Solutions, a private security firm, I used to request cameras in ColorMe Magazine’s office suite; and a final call to David Cole, my private investigator.
“Mr. Blackwood, how are you doing?” he greeted.
“Business as usual. I need to know everything there is to know about Camilla Valentine, the CEO of ColorMe Magazine.”