Between the Sheets (9781476775807) (33 page)

“Fine, Mar
Sell
. If that's how you want it to be, then…”

I shake my head. “Yo, name ya price and let's be done with this shit.”

“I don't want your money. I want
you
. But since you're forcing me to leave you alone, I want a little something to get back on my feet. Give me fifty grand.”

Fifty grand? That's it? This ho got some lil'-ass feet.
“Done. Give me ya bank information and I'll have it transferred to you right now, but first ya ass gonna sign a confidentiality agreement. Then I want you outta my fuckin' life. Got it?”

Silence.

“Yo, you hear me?”

“Yes. I fucking heard you. I don't want it transferred. I want you to bring it to me. Personal check is fine.”

I glance at the time. It's a quarter to eleven in the morning. Something tells me to have the shit couried to her, but ignore the voice in my head. I just want this broad gone.

“Aiight, meet me at Fifty-Ninth and Columbus. Two o'clock. Sharp.”

I hang up.

Marika

After a deliciously decadent weekend lounging in the house naked, I am at my desk still basking in the afterglow of scandalous fucking when Shayla buzzes through. “Missus Kennedy, your eleven o'clock is downstairs at the security desk. They won't let her up because her name isn't on the list.”

“What eleven o'clock?” I ask, puzzled. “I don't believe I have anything scheduled for today.”

I reach for the portable mouse on my desk and wait for my PC to power up. I click into my calendar on my desktop, as well as check the calendar on my iPad. “Are you sure? I don't see any appointments scheduled for today. There must be some mistake.”

“I thought so,” she says. “I checked my calendar as well and didn't see anything scheduled. She wouldn't speak with me on the phone so I went downstairs and told her that I'd be more than happy to take her name and number and have you call her back. Needless to say, she did
not
seem happy to see me and wasn't trying to hear anything I had to say. She insisted on seeing you,
today.
”

I sigh, glancing at the time. It's a quarter to eleven. “Did she give you her name?”

“Yeah. Alexandria Maples.”

I purse my lips. “Alexandria Maples? Hmm. Name doesn't ring a bell. Did she say where she's from?”

“No. She didn't. Hold on.” A few seconds later, Shayla returns and says, “Ronald says she says it's a personal matter and she will only speak with you.”

I ask Shayla what she looks like. The second she describes her as a J.Lo lookalike, my heart drops.

Oh no! Now this bitch has gone too far! Coming here to my place of business!

I reach for my cell and immediately call Marcel, but the call rolls over to his voicemail. I end the call, and send him a text. C
ALL ME. ASAP.

“Did she look armed and dangerous?”

She chuckles. “Uh, armed? No. Dangerous? No. Hella crazy? Maybe. When I went downstairs to talk with her, she was pacing back and forth in the lobby like some caged animal and talking to herself.” She lowers her voice. “Is everything okay? Do you know this woman?”

“No, no,” I say quickly. “Not really. Can you call and let the desk know I'll be down in five minutes.”

“I think you better make it in three,” Shayla quickly says. “Um, I have Roman on the other end. He says she's down there talking reckless. She just told him that she's with The I'ma Turn This Bitch Upside Down Society if
you
don't hurry up and get downstairs. He's ready to call it in.”

“No, no. Tell him I'm coming right down.”

I quickly hang up and send Marcel another text:
SHE'S HERE!!!! IM GOING DWNSTAIRS NOW

When he still doesn't respond back, I pick up the phone and call up to his floor.

“MK Records…this is Alise. How may I direct your call?”

“Hello Alise. Is Mar
Sell
around?”

“Oh, hi, Missus Kennedy,” she says instantly, recognizing my voice. “Let me see.” She puts me on hold. A second or so later, she returns to the line. “Um, he's actually in a meeting until about one. Would you like me to get a message to him?”

“No. That won't be necessary. I sent him a text. Thanks.”

I hang up, and put my head in my hands and sigh, trying to gather my thoughts for a second before I collect my badge. Shut my office door and practically sprint in my six-inch heels through the building, heading for the elevators.

•  •  •

“Ramona,” I say frantically, walking over to her. “What are you doing here?”

“It's
Alexandria
,” she says tersely. “And I'm here because we have some unfinished business.”

I bristle. “Umm, okay, Alexandria. Or whoever the hell you are. No. We don't. So I'm going to ask you nicely to leave now before I have you escorted out of the building. And don't
ever
show your face here again. Or the next time I will have you arrested.”

She scowls, snapping a hand up on her hip. “
Vete a la mierda, puta…!”

I blink.

Then my worst nightmare suddenly starts to unfold before my eyes when she hisses, “You do that. And I'll tell the world all about our lil' lesbian love affair. You pussy eater.”

I cringe.

Oh, dear God, no!
My eyes widen in shock. I can feel the blood draining from my face. I glance over at the security desk, hoping the two guards haven't heard her. The last thing I need to become is the spectacle. The sideshow.

They don't seem to be listening. Still, I've never felt more humiliated than I am at this very moment.

I clench my teeth. “There was no love affair.” I take a deep breath, trying to conceal my real emotions. On the inside, I'm screaming, “
You stupid bitch! Get a life! And leave mine the fuck alone!”

“Bitch, you eat my pussy and fuck me in my ass, then
think
you can dismiss me like I'm some whore-ass trick. I don't think so. Just like the night up in your hotel room, I thought we could be women about this, but I see you prefer it messy.”

I need to get this ho somewhere private and out of everyone's earshot.

“Please, let's not do this here,” I say with pleading eyes.

She narrows her gaze at me, placing a hand up on her curvaceous hips. Hesitantly, she agrees to talk privately. And I quickly usher her into one of the empty conference rooms, then shut the door.

I whirl around to face her. I'm livid. “Look, what is it you want from me, huh? Money?”

She laughs. “
Puta,
don't insult me. Do I look like I
need
money? No. I don't
want
your fucking money, bitch. I told you what I want. I want you to leave Mar
Sell
.”

I scoff. “
What?
I don't know how many times I have to keep telling you to stay the
fuck
away from my husband and me. He and his dick are
not
available to you. So you need to go find you some other woman's husband to
stalk,
because mine—and his dick—are off limits.”

She sneers. “Oh, you think you're real slick, don't you, bitch? But newsflash, sweetie: Your happy home isn't so happy. And that man you're so desperate to hold onto isn't happy with you. He doesn't love you. He loves me. I'm who he wants to be with.”

“Bitch,” I snarl, slamming a hand up on my hip. “You're fucking delusional. Mar
Sell
doesn't love you. And he damn sure doesn't want some crazy bitch like
you
.”

She laughs again. “Then you're the dumb one, hon. How many late nights do you think we've spent on the phone talking, sexting, FaceTiming, while you're asleep, right
after
he's fucked you to sleep, huh? How many early morning email exchanges do you think we've shared behind your pathetic back?”

I blink.

She covers her mouth. “Oops. I guess he didn't mention that, huh? I guess he's keeping secrets from you, after all. Just like I bet he didn't reveal being with me last week.”

I frown. “You're fucking lying.”

“Oh really? Am I? Ask him where he was last Friday at two o'clock.”

My mind quickly searches through my mental Rolodex.

“I have a two o'clock meeting.”

My stomach lurches. My heart pounds in my ears.

“Oh, don't bother asking him. You know how men are. They have selective memory and they leave out all the important details. So I'll tell you. He was having a late lunch.” She lewdly pats her crotch. “Between my thighs.” She smirks, then licks her lips. “Ooh, his tongue is sooo addictive. I can see why you don't want to let him go.”

This bitch is trying to bait me. But I'm not falling for it.

Yeah, right. Meeting my ass! What if he was with her ass Friday?

“I know you saw it in his eyes that night I was riding his big, long dick. It killed you, didn't it,
puta
? Seeing me give it to him so good. It tore you up watching the man you love fall for another woman, didn't it?
Él está enamorado de este coño.
” He's in love with this pussy.

Flashes of that night shoot through my head. Yes, Marcel was more passionate with her than he's been with other women we've brought into our beds, then again…those other women were women we'd met in different countries, or private parties. None of them were some obsessed woman who'd sent him nude selfies, or constantly called into his radio show.

She finally pushes me over the edge when she rubs her belly and says, “I'm pregnant with his baby.”

“Bitch, you're delusional.”

“Oh really? You think? Then riddle me this: Why did he give me”—she digs in her purse, yanking out a folded piece of paper—“this, huh?” She slings the paper at me.

I kneel and pick it up, opening it. My insides drop. It's a personal check for fifty thousand dollars written out to her from Marcel.

What the hell is going on here?

“It's hush money. He wants me to have an abortion, then disappear. But I don't want his money. I want him. And I'm keeping his baby.”

“You lying, conniving bitch!” I lunge for her, slapping her face. My nails graze her face.

She touches the side of her face, then looks at the blood on her fingertips. Her eyes darken, making her look possessed. She clenches her teeth. “Oh, you just fucked up, bitch. You are going to regret ever putting your motherfucking hands on me. I'm going to turn your whole. Fucking. World. Upside down.”

I lunge for her again, but she slips from my grasp, swings open the conference door and makes an erratic dash out of the conference room. I give chase after her not caring who's around, but she surges past the security desk.

“Bitch, I'm going to start letting everyone know
que me cogió en el culo!”

My stomach lurches. She's going to let everyone know that I fucked her in her ass. I only know this because she's nice enough to translate it back to me as she yells out, “Marika Kennedy is a lesbian bitch!”

I stop in my tracks, mortified, feeling my gut clench as she shoulders her way out the glass door. My whole body shakes. I attempt to grab ahold of the wall to keep from falling, but one of the security guards catches me before I hit the floor.

“Missus Kennedy, is everything okay?” he asks, eyeing me cautiously. “Should we call the police?”

I shake my head. “No, no. No police,” I say, the tremble still evident in my voice. “I don't want them getting involved. We'll deal with this in-house for now.” I take a deep breath. Try desperately to steady my nerves.

“Marika Kennedy is a lesbian bitch!”

It's hush money!

He wants me to have an abortion…

I swallow back a scream. I fight to keep my composure as I calmly say, “And I'd like to
know
I can count on the two of you to keep what you witnessed and
heard
today quiet. I don't want this mess getting out.”

“We have no idea what you're talking about,” he says, sounding genuine. Still…I know how everyone loves spreading rumors and juicy gossip. Although all of our employees sign non-disclosure agreements, you can never be certain. They both lock their gazes on me and assure me that nothing will ever be repeated.

I want, need, to believe them. Desperately. But I can see it in their eyes. Judgment.

“But if she ever shows her face here again, I want the police called, immediately. No questions asked.”

“Say no more,” Roman, the younger of the two, says. I make a mental note to write them both a hefty check for their loyalty and to ensure their silence as I walk off, feeling their eyes on me as my heels click against the polished marble.

I don't fucking believe this shit! Crazy bitch!

As I'm making my way down the hall, one of the elevator doors slide open, and Marcel is stepping off.

The last person I wish to fucking see right now!

My nostrils flare and my eyes blaze.

“Marika,” he says rushing to me. He glances around the lobby. “What happened? I got your texts.” His Bvlgari cologne sweeps around me as he steps up to me. I try not to take a deep whiff of him, but he smells delicious. Any other time the smell of his cologne would be an aromatic aphrodisiac that makes my pussy pucker with lust. But the fact that some dick-hungry bitch is after him has me coming unhinged all over again, quelling any possible desires for him.

I turn away from him, and stalk off toward the bank of elevators, unwilling to have this discussion with him. I am still beside myself with rage. I've never been more humiliated in my entire life.
That dirty bitch!