Bona Fide (Illusive Duet Book 2) Read online

  But that immediately changed when I went to college, I didn’t see him anymore, he stopped taking my calls and then the news of him having sex with underaged girls came out from our father.

  He never mentioned or hinted that he didn’t do it. Accepted the advice our parents set before him and went to rehab—one he never stayed long at. His drinking increased, he was never home, I was disgusted with him and then received numerous text messages from Phoebe or Camilia about finding a young girl in his room.

  That was the final nail in the coffin when my sisters confirmed the stories.

  I never tried to talk to him to see where and why he allegedly turned down that dark road. However, I was too far up my own ass to even want to deal with it. I became good at judging my own family after I found out what Demi was all about. What my father pressed me to do when it came down to marrying and forgiving her.

  A twinge of guilt comes up my throat, and I try to swallow it down. I know what Demi is capable of. I just thought my relationship with Lucas was stronger than any woman who tried to fuck with us.

  Now over a decade later, he has the balls to mention all this to me?

  “I need to know what to do or say,” Lucas cuts in. “I don’t want to—”

  “You’re telling me—straight up—that you’ve kept your mouth shut up about these girls to save me from what exactly?”

  My brother furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? Do you think you’d go anywhere with a sex addict as a brother?”

  “You said child rapist,” I retort. “What makes you—”

  “Two girls whom Demi hired that have a nice little story made up about how I drugged and fucked them at a college party. One woke up, I was on top of the other, balls deep and allegedly going to town on. What’s cool, is that they show up at random places to remind me that they still remember the story.”

  “With what proof?”

  Lucas gives me an incredulous look. “A he-said, she-said thing is one thing. Two females together, crying rape, you think I wanted to go down that road?”

  “Phoebe is staying downstairs so I can—”

  “I don’t want a fucking reunion,” my brother gripes. “I’ve been protecting your ass this long so I just—”

  “Oh, you’ll fucking do it,” I reprimand. “You kept this from me long enough, and I’ll do my own digging, but in the meantime—”

  “In the meantime, what?” He takes a menacing step towards me. “You don’t believe me so let’s just name this what it is. Coming here...was a fucking mistake. Call your bitch’s posse off my ass and we’ll call it a win.”

  “You’re not going to tell me that my so-called wife ruined your life and then skip away like arriving here is going to make everything go away.”

  “Can’t you do that? Big-ass governor—how many men did you have to take down to get this pad? How much blood did you spill to get to where you are?”

  “I’m not part of the mafia, dumbass. But to answer your question—” I welcome another sip of my whiskey. “—quite a few.”

  “In the good of evil?” I almost scoff out loud. I always said that to him, every time he tried to talk to me after his alleged escapades and I’d blow him off. He always warned me to be careful—I wasn’t. I married a conniving bitch, and I wonder if my brother was there and I let him in, if I would’ve still made the same mistake.

  “Mostly bad,” I deadpan, pulling out two Coronas and rounding the kitchen island. I hand one over to my brother and offer him to take a seat on one of my sectional couches. He does, pulling out his keys for a small bottle opener, which I forgot to do, and cracks his cap off. His keys fly in my direction to do the same as he sits back.

  “I’m leaving the country,” Lucas voices. “I can’t stay here in this fucked-up world that you and Dad built. So after this free beer, I’m out.”

  “Can’t say that I blame you but wouldn’t that be the bitch move?” His mouth sets in a hard line. “It’ll give Demi more ammo to use against you with what you asserted to be false?”

  Lucas takes a pull from his beer as he sets his sights out my ceiling-to-floor windows overlooking the city. “She’ll do it anyway. You know she’ll maim our family if you don’t make it past the Democratic delegates.” He shrugs. “And if you do and don’t take her to the White House, well, we’re fucked already.”

  “I’m working on getting her out,” I deadpan, which receives an exasperated scoff from my brother.

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Didn’t you just say I’ve taken down powerful men?”

  “But have you taken down a spiteful woman?” He eyes me, unimpressed because we both know the answer to that question—being hell no.

  “I have more authority now.”

  “We have a brother now I hear,” he retorts sourly. “Daxton. What would that make him to you?”

  “Not my problem,” I carp.

  “He will be if she leaks out that she fucked daddy dearest and you married the hoe anyways.”

  “I didn’t know she had a fucking—”

  “Never said you did.”

  “What are you here for if you didn’t want my help?”

  “Not your fucking blessing.”

  I choke the neck of my bottle. “Then what?” Slowly, my brother brings his regard to me, displaying a blank face.

  He’s lived with this for years. I’ve left him there alone. He should’ve come to me, he was old enough to know better—that I would’ve protected him.

  Like you protected Camila?

  “Watch your back, Brother. I’m not going to sit around and watch the shitshow that’s about to take place because that’s all this is going to be. I’m not going to fake-act like we’re a happy family when none of us have been the same since Camila died. Since your wife shoved pills down her throat.”

  “I didn’t fucking know—”

  “No, you didn’t know because your head was shoved too far up your ass trying to drive your career to the damn sky to pay any attention to things that were going on with us.”

  “Where the fuck were you?” I bellow. “Since I’m the oldest, I need to protect all of you? You were grown as hell, lived at home with Camila and Phoebe. Were you too busy fucking bitches at bars and getting set up by Demi or do you—” Lucas lunges for me, knocking me deeper into the cushions of my couch before landing a punch to the side of my face.

  Shoving him off me, he doesn’t go far, as I do the only thing I can do while I’m still stuck in the couch—I kick him in the balls.

  Not my proudest moment, I think it breaks some sort of fight rule, but I’m literally not going to get plummeted by my younger brother while I’m at a disadvantage.

  “You stupid son of a bitch,” Lucas groans, hovered over as he almost trips on my coffee table.

  “Not to sound like a child,” I reply, pushing myself up. “But you started it.” The corner of his lips quirk as he sits on the edge of the couch, still holding his manhood between his legs.

  “Now maybe if you did that to Demi’s pair we might have a shot.”

  “I’m cooking up a plan.”

  “Which is?” I remain silent. “Ah, right...you and your secrets.”

  “Better that way so you don’t become more collateral damage.” He shrugs, picking up his spilled beer on my hardwood floor.

  “She probably knows I’m here anyway.” More than likely, I wouldn’t doubt it. She’ll be dying to know what for and why her threats and men at his throat don’t work on making him spill out the truth.

  Not if he’s still the Lucas I grew up with.

  “Stay inside, hidden,” I voice. “Text me if she comes near you again.”

  “Don’t have your number.”

  “I’ll unblock you,” I mumble. “And you’ll shack up with Phoebe. Go pack your shit.”

  “I’m not having a sleepover with my sister,” he deadpans.

  A mirthless chuckle hums in my chest. “Yeah, you are. Make sure you bring your teddy bear
, shit’s going to hit the fan.”

  ♫ Beez in the Trap — Nicki Minaj ♫

  Sadie: Call me.

  I sigh. I already have seven missed calls from her, and it’s only nine in the morning. Knowing my typically anxious cousin, she’s more than likely freaking the hell out about the charity event tonight.

  And since I don’t feel like spending an hour on the phone with her right now, I shoot her back a message to tell her I’m jumping in the shower and I’ll ring her back soon.

  After my shower, I get dressed, shove a granola bar in my mouth, and as I’m about to head out the door, a loud knock sounds off it.

  Fucking Sadie.

  Chewing my quick breakfast, I lean back against the wall to peer around at my driveway through the front window.

  Nothing’s there.

  Nimbly, I walk across my floor, wishing to God I had a damn peephole when I whip the door open, ready to either slam it or punch someone in the neck.

  I admit I’ve watched too many crime shows, as Chase accuses me of.

  However, I never watched a show on how to take out three people at one time because on my porch stands two very large men dressed in all black and Demi in between them.

  “What the hell are you doing at my house?” I snap before she can even utter a word. Demi’s red lips smile at me as she patiently waits for me to, what, let her the fuck in?

  “Good morning,” she greets. “Glad I didn’t wake you up.”

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “May I come in?”

  “No.”

  Demi sighs heavily and shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She holds out her hand and one of the men behind her pulls out a manila folder. “I need you to sign this.”

  I eye it. “For?”

  “My future.”

  I scoff. “I don’t give a fuck about your future. Get the hell off my property before I call the cops on you and the two goons.”

  “I mean...if you want to.” I begin to propel the door shut but a large hand reaches out to stop it, pushing it back open. Goon number one keeps it planted there so I can’t try for round two.

  “Let’s be a tad mature about this,” Demi voices before taking it upon herself to step over the threshold into my house.

  “Did you hear me when I said I wasn’t inviting you in?” I seethe.

  Demi, of course, ignores me as her two bodyguards walk in behind her, practically removing me from my spot so their big asses can stride through.

  “You didn’t get to read what I brought.” She studies the decor of my front room, her back to me.

  “Not interested,” I deadpan. “Get the fuck out—” Demi twirls on her heels.

  “You said that already. We can’t have you working for us anymore so those papers are to cut ties to your contract that you signed with Governor Lockwood.”

  “We?” I repeat. “I think you’re a little confused about who—”

  “Have you watched the news today?”

  “No.”

  “Let me save you the boring details,” she offers, clasping her hands together to rest on her tan dress. “You’re now known as the new whore around here.”

  I blink at her.

  The fuck?

  “There is video footage of you screwing—well, quite a few people at the Governor’s ball.”

  My brows furrow. “Have you lost your everliving mind? I was barely there for—”

  “I’m not your judge or jury, Miss Shelton. I just want to dissolve the contract so that you can’t cause any harm to the governor’s campaign. This is a very important time.” She nods at her men and one of them round me, marching down the hallway of my house.

  “Hey!” I call out, starting to follow. “Get the hell out of—”

  “Are you missing a dress, Miss Shelton?” Demi asks innocently, causing me to slowly turn back around.

  It hits me like a fucking brick wall.

  She was wearing my navy dress that night at the governor’s ball.

  I mean, I thought she had it on, pretty positive, but I couldn’t prove it. I never did come back home and go through my closet to actually look because I was so pissed off at Wade that it slipped my mind.

  Plus, I mean, it was kinda crazy to begin with. Breaking into my house to take a dress?

  “It fit like a glove,” Demi professes nonchalantly like we’re friends. Like she had every right to walk into my home and touch my shit.

  “You dumb fucking bitch,” I snap, clutching my hands that are now fists.

  “I need the papers in that folder signed before I leave today.” She glances down at her manicured fingernails. “You won’t be responsible for buying yourself out of the contract, it’s only a little over a month left.”

  “No one can prove that the person in this so-called video is me,” I retort. “And Wade isn’t going to—”

  “Fuck, yes, babe,” groans a deep male voice in the room. My head snaps to the sound of it just to see Demi’s bodyguard holding up a cell phone with a video playing.

  I step closer, eyes squinted in at the couple.

  “You want this dick, Miss Shelton?” the male asks, continuing to thrust his cock inside Demi, who’s wearing my fucking dress.

  They’re on a couch, Demi straddling a man whose face I can’t see because she’s blocking him. But the person shooting the video is behind a marigold-colored curtain, the bottom of it still outlining some of the shot because they don’t want to be seen.

  It’s then that I realize that Demi and I almost have the same build, the same features. My hair is darker than hers but you can’t tell in the limited lighting of the room.

  What you can see though, is that damn silk dress and a woman that looks almost identical to me.

  “Give me more, Donald,” Demi moans deeply. “Please.”

  “I never thought you’d let me fuck you,” the man alludes. “You’re so fucking tight and ready for me, aren’t you? I’m going to make you come all night. You’re going to be—” I slap the phone right out of her bodyguard’s hand, and it flies across the room.

  Next, I’m in Demi’s face, praying to God she smacks me. I can feel the heat scalding off my face.

  Mama watches the news. And if this is truly all over the local news stations, she’s going to see it.

  “I would never say please, hoe,” I sneer. “I let the men beg for me.”

  Demi huffs through her nose and smiles. “That was only Act One, did you want me to show you the others?”

  Others?

  I stretch my fingers at my sides that are itching to snatch her up by her locks and fuck her pretty little face up.

  “How many?”

  “Three.”

  I perk a brow. “In the same night? Bitch, you tried too hard. Hardly believable.”

  “Oh, did I say I stole one dress?” Her lips lift higher. “You’re a busy girl, you apparently fuck all sorts of men at your events.”

  My arm cocks back, but it’s halted by a large hand as I’m wrenched backward. I stumble back as her brute lets me go to give us space.

  “I’m going to kill you, bitch.”

  Demi rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, you survived the ghetto, you’ll be alright after this.”

  “You think releasing these videos to the public is going to make me cut my contract so that you can tighten your leash on Wade? You didn’t do your homework very well because I don’t back down when cornered.”

  “Give me some credit, Miss Shelton. That’s not all I have planned. Your mama’s—” I rush her, just to be lifted up in the air.

  My fists blow into the goon’s back as he sets me down like I’m nothing.

  When I’m on my feet, I shove him from me and snap my head back to Demi. “Go near my mother and I will strangle you with my bare hands, cunt. You don’t know what I could do to you.”

  “I think we’ve both underestimated each other,” Demi conveys calmly. “You think I’m a gold-digging bitch, and I thought you were a trailer park p
iece of trash. But you’ve built your own successful business, and I’m just taking care of what’s mine.”

  “Wade isn’t going to keep you around,” I seize. “Especially after this. You just keep digging yourself into a bigger hole, Demi.”

  “But I’ll have what I want and what I have can take down his whole empire. What you need to worry about is what you’re going to do afterward.”

  “I’m not signing that contract.”

  Demi gives a dismissive wave of her hand. “Then don’t. You just hurt him in the process.”

  My body tenses at her words, both threatening and promising. She doesn’t care about him, no wonder he says she isn’t his wife anymore.

  “You think you can just barge into my house and start demanding I do shit for you? You come out of nowhere and you think you can just fuck up everyone’s life, that you have the power to—”

  “I do have the power to,” Demi chides. “I’ve been around a lot longer than you. You have no clue of the things I know about this family.”

  I’ve had more than enough of this bullshit. My feet are already moving again, and fuck, if she doesn’t hit me first, I’m going to be wearing her blood in about two seconds. However, Bigfoot stands in front of her, arms crossed, so I drive my clenched hand into his ribs.

  “Get out the fuck of my way.”

  “You’re not going to want to stay around much longer anyway,” Demi states behind her man-wall. “I’m going to get pregnant with my husband’s baby.”

  If she says husband one more fucking time, I am going to explode.

  “You. Are. A. Sick. Bitch,” I fume. “He’d have to want to fuck you first.”

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s called a date-rape drug, darling.”

  I try to keep my face neutral, but I can feel the frown grow. A prickly feeling creeping up my whole body that she’ll lock him down and he won’t be able to walk away from a child that is his if he wins the Democratic candidacy. And especially if he wins the presidency.

  It’d look bad. I don’t know what he has planned, but I sure as hell know it wasn’t Demi doing this. She’d try to pull full custody if he did decide to leave and destroy everything in her wake.