You Called Me-ARE and Apple epub (23 page)

“Excuse me!” she barked, tilting her head. Had he really just had those words come from his mouth?

“Be good to my son.”

“You’re not here to express your displeasure with your son being interested in me?”

“Would it keep you from seeing him?”

Kenya looked around the restaurant, waiters and guests coming, tables filled with people laughing and talking and here she sat with a mob boss. “Just so we keep things accurate, your son approached me, Mr. Blakemore.”

“So walking away will be easy enough?”

“I think you need to take this up with Jonathan. First, you ask me to be good to him, then change your tune and want me to leave him. Which is it? “Patrons at the counter listened to the music. Oblivious to the deal Brian laid out before her.

A guitar strummed in the center of the floor in front of the bar and Kenya fidgeted in her chair. What had she truly gotten involved with? 

“There are stipulations on marrying into the Blakemore family. The wife no longer works out side of the family business, an easy concept for someone with your fire to grasp.”

Marriage, she thought, and not work outside the family business. That couldn't be.  Jonathan lived in the modern world. A wife sequestered to the family business. She frowned. Wait. This trap had her gullible name spelled across it. That pissed her off. Marriage has never come up between her and Jonathan. Their relationship consisted of calls, texts, and sporadic late night dinners. Until her promotion, they’d never slept together. Brian raspy voice brought her attention to the table.

“And you’ll live in Ireland.”

She peered around the restaurant and Julia gave her a sad smile. This fight belonged between Jonathan and Brian, not Kenya. 

Turning toward her host, she said, “We’re just not going to get along, are we? Talk to your son, not me.” She pushed away from the table to stand and his bodyguards stood along with her. “I’m not certain what you’re accustomed to, Mr. Blakemore, but I don’t care for intimidation.”

“Sit down, Ms. Claiborne.” He wore the same cold stare Jonathan used when she wanted to leave. Kenya eased down into the chair.

“You have my attention, Mr. Blakemore.”

“Smart girl,” Brian said full of righteous arrogance.

Kenya crossed her legs, arms crossed under her breast.

“The land the estate sits on is in his mother’s name. The castle is in the Blakemore line. Jonathan is the connecting heir between the two families.”

“And I fit in where?”

“My son hasn’t set his attention on a woman in some time. I’ll give you an option, something I’m not known for.”

Kenya tapped her foot on the floor under the table silencing her agitation, seeing his security step in closer and set a slip of linen paper on the table pushing it close enough for her to see the impressive zeros. Her mouth tightened, embarrassed for Jonathan having this as a father.

Reading the fine printed words on the cream-colored paper, Kenya couldn’t believe what she read. “Walk away, and the Global Learning account as well as their foreign account will be yours along with half a million US dollars will be deposited into an account in Switzerland in your name. Or convince my son to place the land and estate both in the Blakemore name and give him an heir.” She looked up, sliding the obscene offer to the center of the table.

A waste of time to ask how he knew about her business accounts at the bank. Global Learning, a major account had been written up in Crain’s financial magazine as the company to watch. To have that under her resume would push her straight to the top for further promotions. This guy was good. He knew her weakness. Her career. The money he offered would pad her future. She crossed her ankles. He could forget her selling out Jonathan.

“Why would I do that? What’s in it for you, Mr. Blakemore?”

“The estate is surrounded by four hundred fifty acres of woodlands.”

“His mother’s land?” Growing irritation shoved her brows up. He presumed she could be bought.  

“Having them under two names lessening the value of the castle and the land. Once he marries, the land and estate automatically merge.”

“Why?”

“Marriage contract between me and his mother,” Brian said.

“What do you stand to gain? If Jonathan has control what do you gain from a marriage between us?”

Kenya stiffened. Brian’s foot grazed along her leg under the table. Oh—so—not having that party she thought, drawing her foot back. Brian Blakemore was a leech.

“A financial mind is sexy, Ms. Claiborne, and yours is prowling the cat walk in black lace lingerie.” He took a sip of what she was certain to be whiskey, swirled the glass and eyed it as if it was about to change into something else. The thunk made her squeeze her lids shut as he returned it to the table. “My son never had a fighting chance with you. He has a thing for smart women,” Brian warned.

“Mr. Blakemore, what else is on the land that you need it to be under one name so intently?”

“Well damn! I misjudged you, Ms. Claiborne.” Brian swirled the gold liquid in the short glass, kept his eyes on her. “It's the potential of the land and the proximity to the Atlantic. Have any idea how much money my son is worth, Kenya?”

“Not enough to sell my dignity,” she forced, arms folded under her breasts. This man was certifiable and she wanted no part of this world, but Jonathan couldn't walk into a snake pit.

“Listen, Ms. Claiborne.”

She cut him off, refolding her arms. The lines around his eyes tightened, he didn’t care for that. “Mr. Blakemore, I can’t be bought, bribed, cajoled, persuaded, or manipulated into whatever situation you’re trying to create to force Jonathan to side with you,” she said, shaking her head, “family feud.”

“You have enough information to make your choice.” 

“This is ludicrous. Jonathan’s gonna marry someone someday, and you’ll have the same issue. Why am I being targeted, Mr. Blakemore?”

Brian tossed back the whiskey. He shared a stare with his guards flanking her. Under the table she twisted her watch as something passed between the men and she didn’t like it. 

“Well bravo to you, Kenya.” He pushed away from the table slid his chair around next to her. Whiskey washed over her face him so close. “My son wants you because you’re black, Kenya.”

Jonathan had a preference for black women she knew, but Brian didn't have to know. “Your son couldn’t care less what color I am.”

Brian closed his hands around hers in an intimate gesture, too intimate to be her boyfriend’s father. His ruddy hard face inches from her ear. “We both know that's not true...…but the Nigerian tourists will care. You’ll bring in a demographic an Irish woman can’t.”

“The Black dollar.”

“Damn--”he slid an arm around her chair to whisper along her neck, making her skin peel one layer at a time. “Now…do you want to be a dime piece, Kenya? I would think a professional woman wouldn’t allow herself to be used that way.” She had to blink slowly to keep her eyes from falling from their perch, ready to roll out her head. Was that a threat on Jonathan’s life? Kenya thought she could feel her spine trying to turn her from Satan in front of her. That’s who he had to be, making death threats on his son.

The moment she got outside, she’d call Jonathan.
If
she left the restaurant in one piece.

She scanned the restaurant checking for exit signs. People milled about oblivious to the heinous proposition just offered to her by her boyfriend’s father. Lord, she thought she had it bad with Morgan and Michael’s stank attitude. This guy was Mommy Dearest, daddy style.

“Is this an aggressive request for me to leave Jonathan?”

Brian Blakemore eyed the face of his diamond-studded watch. The single diamond at the top told her it was Mova. It must be casual day.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Kenya Claiborne,” Brian’s thick baroque said this wouldn't be the last time she’d see him. It held an unfinished weight. Heavy and deadly. An anvil or cement shoes came to mind. “Kenya, you have a beautiful mother, so sexy.” Brian twisted the large gold ring on his middle finger giving her a deep tilted stare. Kenya wanted to jump across the table and strangle the slimy, sleazy dog. “She's too old for my personal taste, but a beautiful woman. I'm sure if anything were to happen to your father she'd have no trouble replacing him.”

Too stunned to say a word, Kenya shakily, pushed away from the table. Smoothing down her pants, her feet felt like bricks as she crossed the restaurant unable to look back, had she wanted to, her spine was seizing up with each step. At the table, her legs wouldn’t bend enough for her to sit down.

“Let’s go. I’m going to be sick.”

“What’d he say?” Julia asked. Kenya shook her head seeing Julia give Brian dirty eyes.

“Don't do that. I'll tell you outside.” Kenya grabbed her coat and bags clasping her hand with Julia until they were clear of the restaurant and in her car.

“So what’d he say, Jonathan’s father?”

“Doesn’t matter, I have to break it off with him, that’s it. It’s the only answer, I can’t see Jonathan anymore.”

“Kenya,” Julia cried twisting in her seat to face her. “It's because you’re black? That’s what that prick said, isn’t it? That sucks, honey. How's he gonna pass judgment? He doesn't even know you.” Julia waved a hand in the air smacking with her lips together. “You can’t let him come between you two like this.”

Kenya rested her head against the cold steering wheel, turning her face toward Julia and gripped her friends hand on the seat between them and it halted Julia's ranting. “That’s not it, Julia…I think Jonathan’s family is Irish Mafia...Brian threatened to hurt daddy if I didn't cooperate.”

“What!” Julia blurted out. “Threatening someone family is low. Oh yeah you have to walk away from Jonathan. Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Julia consoled her rubbing a hand down over Kenya's back through her coat. “Well, best you found out before you fell in love with him. That's real pain.”

She grinned.
Good thing she hadn’t fallen in love with him
. Now if she could get her heart to believe that she wouldn’t be tempted to go by the penthouse. She should at least warn him that his father wants to kill him before she breaks up with him.

Jonathan leaned against the limo door eying the estate. Closing his eyes, he breathed the scent of Ireland deep into his lungs. Home. A bitter sweet relationship. He crossed the parking lot tossing his bag in the jeep idling by the entrance. He turned seeing his cousin strolling across the graveled drive hand extended.

“Cousin…”Jaime Blakemore said. Jonathan hugged his cousin before the two jumped in the jeep to bound out through the gated exit. “How was your flight?”

“Hell--”Jonathan spat, eying the dirt road before motoring the jeep down the bumpy path.

“Hell.” His cousin smirked. “I heard yer new woman has ye by the balls. Aye…can see she got yer on yer knees too.” He slapped Jonathan on the shoulder.

He shot his cousin a flash of heat. “I see Seamus wasted no time spreading the gossip. Her name is Kenya. That’s all yer getting, Jaime.”

“I hear she’s in finance…and she’s African American,” Jaime said, sliding a small gun across the seat. Jonathan closed a hand over the cold steel and the two shared a quick look. Heading the family was an enormous responsibility and the woman by his side would have to understand all his duties. “Does she know who you are?”

He gripped the steering wheel directing the jeep down a dirt road toward the horse stables on the estate. Sheep filled the field to the right up on the hill. 

“Aye, she knows what she needs to know right now. Concentrate on the family. Let me handle my woman.”

Jaime barked out a harsh laugh and Jonathan smiled at this cousin. They were more alike than any of his other family.

“Some of our men are waiting. I’ve checked out what I could of Graham and found his home. His family is under surveillance and the moment he surfaces they'll bring him in.”

“Good. The men helping him?”

“They’re in the stables waiting for you.” Jonathan angled the truck behind the barn. Pushing the gearshift into park, he jumped from the jeep, shoved the gun in his waistband and shut the door. Pulling on a pair of leather gloves, he crossed the dry grass to the barn door. It creaked open and two of his men stepped out. Patting the hulking shoulders, he strode into the dimly lit space past the horses.

Crossing to one of the stables, he petted the horses before standing before the three men held tied to the wall.

“Gentleman, I have a plane to catch. One question. Where’s Graham?” Jonathan asked and knew by the scars on the first man’s face he’d get nothing from him.

Spittle hit Jonathan's shoe from the first man. He made a sound in the back of his throat as he scrubbed he shoes in the straw. He had no time for disrespect today and reached behind his back. Pulling out the gun he took one quick shot at close range, blood blossomed down the man's shirt. The man’s body slumped along the wall then slid to the floor. Straw and sawdust fumes smoked up into the air.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Stealing from my family is something I take seriously gentleman. I have a plane to catch so I’ll try and make this as easy for you as possible.” He turned to one of his men beside the door, looking pointedly at the weapon in their hands. “Dispose of this guy,” he ordered, kicking the limp body on the floor. Flexing his hand, he drew it back and cracked the next man across the face. Blood spurted from the man’s lip. Jonathan dipped down to peer at the other man face hung slack. “I’ll be a bit lenient and allow you to answer his question. Answer wrong or lie to me, which is the same problem, and the next question will be to your loved ones.”

The man’s eyes widened and Jonathan had his answer.

Twenty minutes later Jonathan and Jaime headed back to the estate. In his suite, he showered. Entering the bedroom from the shower, he dressed. Jaime sat on the sofa in front of the bay window overlooking the river. Pulling on a sweater, he slipped on his watch.

“I’ll take care of everything here. According to what we got out of them, Graham is in Nigeria. I’ll handle this end and you can get back to the states and handle Uncle Brian.”