Read Online Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever by L. V. Lewis - Free Book Online
Authors: L. V. Lewis
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opposite me, and hands me my purse. I check to see if all my stuff is still there, then roll my eyes at myself, because I realize, there isn’t a damned thing in that bag a gazillionaire would want. Tristan watches me, bemused.
Then I pay closer attention to the bag. “Um, this isn’t my bag.”
“Yes, it is,” he says. “Darryl noticed the one you had was—how might I put this delicately—not of sufficient quality.”
“Sufficient for what?”
“A woman of your beauty and strength. Please take the handbag as a gift from me, and as an apology.”
“An apology for?”
“Accosting you in my office last week. I was out of line. Had you been of a mind to, you could certainly have capitalized on that.”
“An apology alone would have been sufficient, Tristan. As it happens now, I owe you an apology, so I guess that would make us even.”
“Why do you owe me an apology?”
“For not thanking you earlier for keeping whoever drugged me from having their wicked way with me.”
“Speaking of which . . .” He rises to get his Smartphone out of his pocket. “My head of security sent me a couple of multimedia stills of the culprit.” He hands me his phone.
“Wait. Is Wicked yours?”
“Yes, I own a controlling interest in it.”
So that explains why he has access to all the security footage. I scan the pictures on his phone.
“That bastard!” I explode. I scan through the pictures that clearly show Byron McCaskill aka Blake dropping something in my drink when Princess Danai and I were preoccupied just before Tristan showed up. “I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him.” I grind out.
“If I don’t get to him first,” Tristan says through clenched teeth. His moods are so damned mercurial, and deadly.
His anger makes me nervous. How do I know he doesn’t have Mob ties? “Um, I didn’t mean I would literally kill him. You don’t either, do you?”
“At the very least, he deserves to go to jail, Keisha. My security chief has already sent a copy of these to the Chicago PD, together with the results of your blood test.”
“Tristan that will ruin his life.”
“He was all set to ruin yours.”
“I’d like to see him suffer some, but I don’t want to send him to jail. It’s hard enough for a black man in this world.” I realize how feeble that sounds, but even though Byron attempted a serious crime against me, I can’t bring myself to be the one to send him to jail. I have brothers who’ve been profiled and mistreated by law enforcement. But how do I explain that to a filthy rich fucker like Tristan for whom the world bends over backwards?
“The authorities have the evidence. Whether you choose to press charges is entirely up to you, but I encourage you to do so.”
I point to the business plan. “So, you’ve changed your mind about our business arrangement?”
“Yes and no,” he says.
Here we go again. I roll my eyes and purse my lips on the ready to bless him out. “Don’t tell me you’ve all of a sudden gotten a raging case of Romnesia.”
His forehead creases. “Romnesia?”
“The Romney flip-flop, or rich man’s amnesia.”
“No, but do I have a counter offer for you.”
“Okay, let’s hear it?”
“You’re certainly in a hurry to be introduced to a world that could change your life forever,” he says in a castigating tone. “Believe me, once you hear what I propose you may insist I go fuck myself and leave you the hell alone.”
“Are you a serial killer, or some shit, Mr. White?”
“Oh, it’s Mr. White now again, is it? After the intimacies we’ve shared?”
My face gets hot even though I know all we did was sleep in the same bed. “Tristan! C’mon, stop playing with my emotions here.”
“All right,” he says. “But first I must insist that you sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement.”
“Why?”
“Because once I introduce you to my world, you can’t share what you know about me with anyone.”
I frown. Well, so much for thinking he wanted in my
Then I pay closer attention to the bag. “Um, this isn’t my bag.”
“Yes, it is,” he says. “Darryl noticed the one you had was—how might I put this delicately—not of sufficient quality.”
“Sufficient for what?”
“A woman of your beauty and strength. Please take the handbag as a gift from me, and as an apology.”
“An apology for?”
“Accosting you in my office last week. I was out of line. Had you been of a mind to, you could certainly have capitalized on that.”
“An apology alone would have been sufficient, Tristan. As it happens now, I owe you an apology, so I guess that would make us even.”
“Why do you owe me an apology?”
“For not thanking you earlier for keeping whoever drugged me from having their wicked way with me.”
“Speaking of which . . .” He rises to get his Smartphone out of his pocket. “My head of security sent me a couple of multimedia stills of the culprit.” He hands me his phone.
“Wait. Is Wicked yours?”
“Yes, I own a controlling interest in it.”
So that explains why he has access to all the security footage. I scan the pictures on his phone.
“That bastard!” I explode. I scan through the pictures that clearly show Byron McCaskill aka Blake dropping something in my drink when Princess Danai and I were preoccupied just before Tristan showed up. “I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him.” I grind out.
“If I don’t get to him first,” Tristan says through clenched teeth. His moods are so damned mercurial, and deadly.
His anger makes me nervous. How do I know he doesn’t have Mob ties? “Um, I didn’t mean I would literally kill him. You don’t either, do you?”
“At the very least, he deserves to go to jail, Keisha. My security chief has already sent a copy of these to the Chicago PD, together with the results of your blood test.”
“Tristan that will ruin his life.”
“He was all set to ruin yours.”
“I’d like to see him suffer some, but I don’t want to send him to jail. It’s hard enough for a black man in this world.” I realize how feeble that sounds, but even though Byron attempted a serious crime against me, I can’t bring myself to be the one to send him to jail. I have brothers who’ve been profiled and mistreated by law enforcement. But how do I explain that to a filthy rich fucker like Tristan for whom the world bends over backwards?
“The authorities have the evidence. Whether you choose to press charges is entirely up to you, but I encourage you to do so.”
I point to the business plan. “So, you’ve changed your mind about our business arrangement?”
“Yes and no,” he says.
Here we go again. I roll my eyes and purse my lips on the ready to bless him out. “Don’t tell me you’ve all of a sudden gotten a raging case of Romnesia.”
His forehead creases. “Romnesia?”
“The Romney flip-flop, or rich man’s amnesia.”
“No, but do I have a counter offer for you.”
“Okay, let’s hear it?”
“You’re certainly in a hurry to be introduced to a world that could change your life forever,” he says in a castigating tone. “Believe me, once you hear what I propose you may insist I go fuck myself and leave you the hell alone.”
“Are you a serial killer, or some shit, Mr. White?”
“Oh, it’s Mr. White now again, is it? After the intimacies we’ve shared?”
My face gets hot even though I know all we did was sleep in the same bed. “Tristan! C’mon, stop playing with my emotions here.”
“All right,” he says. “But first I must insist that you sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement.”
“Why?”
“Because once I introduce you to my world, you can’t share what you know about me with anyone.”
I frown. Well, so much for thinking he wanted in my
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