“Same ol’.” Ledge shrugged and chewed his food. “So what’s the plan?” He trailed me as I steered myself into my open living room.
“I’ll figure some shit out,” I countered, rolling my sleeves up.
The shit was starting to stress me out and piss me off. My patience was also shot. I had held in plenty, but as time went on, my frustrations were growing. I didn’t move like this. Instant gratification was my thing. The fact that my problem was I had too much fucking money was aggravating as fuck.
“A’ight, you want to check on the prisoner?” Ledge queried, dropping down into a big chair that faced me in the spacious formal room.
He kicked his feet up on the table, and I smacked them shits right back down to the floor. He knew better. I was anal as fuck about my shit, and he needed to learn some fucking manners.
“That’s what the den is for,” I reminded him, and he sneered at me before he bounced onto his feet.
His dreads hung around his face, making him more rugged than he actually was.
“Fuck you. I was watching these IG bitches on the big screen anyway. They doing a cucumber contest and shit.” He stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and swiped his hands of any crumbs before swerving around back toward the entryway where he’d come from.
Shaking my head at his retarded ass, I just stared at the empty doorway for a minute before I sucked in a deep breath and brought my eyes to the ceiling. Something had to fucking give. Knowledge and I had all kinds of businesses, but we had more dirty money coming in by the day. I needed something else to invest in, and I didn’t have anyone bringing me anything I felt was going to benefit me in the end just as much as them. They all seemed to be looking out for self, and that wasn’t the kind of nigga I was. I enjoyed getting money just like the next man, but there had to be limits to that shit. Some things I just wasn’t willing to compromise for. Taking slow strides into the foyer, I paused at the landing of the wide, winding staircase that led to the second floor. For a moment, I stood there, just staring off while my thoughts took over. Swiping my hand down my face, I went against my better judgment and started up the steps.
My home was massive. It was inherited from my parents, who were both living in the United Kingdom as of the moment. Since I was their only child that actually lived in Virginia, it was where I chose to reside. It was secluded with plenty of room for me to roam as I pleased. I was often restless at night, so I would wander around from room to room. My brothers and sisters teased me all the time of being like the beast inBeauty and the Beast. I brooded a lot and kept myself isolated on purpose. Other than Knowledge, I didn’t have any friends. He and I grew up together though. He was my brother from another mother, and any time I showed interest in something, he did too. He was unpredictable and wild, but he was also solid and loyal. I neverdoubted that or questioned him about where we stood. That in itself was rare these days.
I had a lot of family. The Roths held plenty of power and position. That was who I fucked with. Even though I dealt with some of them with a long-handled spoon. Reaching the top of the staircase, I could hear soft music playing. It was so low that it was barely audible unless you were listening for it. I took slow strides down the widened hallway.
There are times
When I find, you wanna keep yourself from me
When I don’t have the strength
I’m just a mirror of what I see
Aaliyah’s sultry voice floated through my ears as I neared the last door, which was at least twenty yards away. The shit was massive, almost like a castle. It was dark and grim like one too. I dug into the pocket of my pants and retrieved a set of keys. Finding the one for this particular door, I stuck it in the lock and turned. Natural sunlight coated the room in a warm glow. The only view was that of the vast land just behind the house, where horses ran wild in the field and my staff tended to the garden and landscaping.
Shadows also pranced across the walls, and in the center of the room, there she was. Harbor Lawson. Her body moved as if she was one with the beat. She danced on her toes, and when she bent or swayed a certain direction, the shit flowed smooth like water. Captivated, I eyed her as she continued with her eyes closed, practicing a routine that she seemed to know by heart. It was ballet, but it was some other shit mixed in, making it more modern, and I hawked her from the doorway. My hand rested on the doorknob, and when she turned, angling her upper body to one side with her hands in the air, her eyes popped open. They were dark and dismal as she slowly lowered her arms and caught her breath.
She peered back at me like I had broken through into her private world. In tights with a body suit underneath, she brought her feet firmly to the ground. Unreactive. That was the best way to describe how she tensed up when her gaze landed on me. She was sweating, and her hair was pulled away from her face, resting in a sloppy bun on top of her head. Her skin had a natural glow over deep mahogany that didn’t carry a fucking blemish on it. Attitude instantly sparked behind her hard gaze. It was there every time she looked at me—disdain. She didn’t want to be here.
“Get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast,” I ordered, keeping my tone even.
“I’m not hungry,” her stubborn ass countered, lowering her head as she walked over to a nearby chair to grab a towel.
She turned the music off on the iPod dock. It was the one thing she asked for after arriving here. Music. She used the towel to wipe the sweat off her body. Stacked in all the right places, the body of a fucking plastic surgeon patients’ dreams, Harbor was perfection on the outside. That fucking attitude was what made me want to knock her down a few notches.
“It wasn’t a fucking request,” I said, a flicker of irritation and impatience shining behind my eyes. “I’m giving you ten minutes.” I backed out and left her standing there glaring back at me when I retreated from the room before I knocked her fucking head off.
Once I closed the door, I locked it again with the key and took off down the hall. Ledge waited at the bottom of the stairs when I landed, sipping from a bottle of Heineken.
“Everything good?” he asked.
“Fine. Did Celine make breakfast?” I queried, checking the time on my wrist.
“Sure did. She got everything set up for you. So tell me what’s going on with the money.” Ledge fell in stride with me to the kitchen.
“We can clean half of our cash and have it go directly into our Cayman accounts. The problem is going to be finding another investment to wash this shit. We already have the laundromats, a few detail shops, and the grocery stores. But we need to think bigger. We need something that’s not going to draw attention and something that covers well on paper,” I explained as we entered the warmth of my kitchen.
Celine, the older woman that basically ran my house since I was a kid my-damn-self, was in the kitchen at the stove. That was normal for her. She made me breakfast, lunch, and dinner all my fucking life. Even when my parents left the States, Celine stuck around because she said she didn’t have anything else to do. She didn’t have much family and no children, so working here gave her purpose.
“Morning, Celine,” I greeted her.
She turned slightly at the counter and gave me her famous warm smile, crinkling up the corner of her eyes. “Hey, my boy,” she responded.
