The Pleasure's All Mine (4 page)

Down, boy, down
, Pierce thought as he followed Steve to the sound control booth.

“What’s up with you, man?” Steve asked, running a hand through his baby fine, blond hair as they looped through the crowd. “What’s with
this
woman? Aren’t you getting your fair share at Simeon’s parties?”

Pierce froze, towering over his assistant by five inches, as he leveled an icy glare at him.

Steve winced, quickly raised his hands in mock surrender before they continued through the crowd. He barely missed having a drink spilled on the Ungaro suit which complemented his slender frame to perfection.

Pierce had never been one to pair up with the mindless babes and waiflike, pretentious Hollywood and New York types who attended Manhattan Entertainment Group events. He longed for more—someone real, earthy, warm, and solid. He wanted Raven.

He’d also had enough of being the stepping stone to a recording career—or worse—to Simeon Cahill, the king of one-night stands and broken promises.

The two men abruptly changed course and now aimed at the custom-crafted VIP area, specifically slated for A-list guests, but had somehow been taken over by Sim and his entourage.

Pierce wound his way through the throng of women spilling out of their clothes to stand in front of the brown-skinned man who was splayed across the plush white sofa, a bottle of Cristal in hand.

“Do you think you can tear yourself away long enough to deal with Aries?”

Sim, draped in an all white suit, designer sunglasses—even though the sun had made an exit hours ago—slowly sat up, flexed his shoulders, and looked up at Pierce. “It’s your party,
you
deal with it!”

“You insisted that he perform tonight. I didn’t think he was ready.” Actually, the boy probably would never be ready, but that was beside the point.

“So what the fuck’s he done now?” Sim growled and extracted himself from a long-legged brunette.

“Oh, nothing much,” Pierce said with a shrug and didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone,
“Somehow
he doesn’t have the backing vocals and music for his performance tonight. That’s all.”

For a second Simeon’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly recovered. “And how’s that on me?”

“You allowed him to take the master tape—also against my advice I might add—now it’s not here.”

“So send this fool to get it,” Sim snapped back with a brisk nod in Steve’s direction.

Steve moved forward but Pierce’s hand snaked out to hold him in place as he whispered into the man’s ear, “Easy, Steve. Some other time.”

Sim lifted himself off the sofa and came to stand within a few inches of the blond man whose flushed face signaled an anger barely kept in check.

“What?” Sim said, flexing his body at Steve as though he wanted to land a blow. Then he glanced back at the rowdy crew. “Aw, the white boy thought he was gonna bank tough, y’all.”

A round of laughter ensued from the people around them, who at first had been too busy sucking up the food and top-shelf liquor to give the threesome much notice.

“I’d mop the floor with your ass,” Sim said so everyone in range could hear. “Might put some color on you—for real.”

More laughter was enough to make Steve’s head whip around to Pierce, wanting a signal that he had permission to take Sim on. There was enough drama surrounding MEG already without a tabloid story of a fight between Simeon Cahill and Pierce’s right-hand man. Thanks to Sim, MEG had been in the news more in the past few months than they had been in the past few
years.
He took note that the backlash always happened at anything involving MEG—never when it came to Sim’s restaurant or fashion label.

Pierce kept his glare on Sim as he said, “Steve, find Vlad and bring him here.”

Steve threw another scathing look at Sim before turning to leave.

“Yeah, you better save his ass on
that
,” Sim jeered, squaring his shoulders.

“Personally, my money would be on Steve,” Pierce replied with a sly grin. “I’ve seen you fight. You hit like a six-year-old.”

Sim’s expression turned dark as the laughter was at his expense this time. He was up in Pierce’s face before anyone could blink. “You better recognize who you’re talking to.”

“How could I forget?” Pierce shot back, standing his ground. “Either you send Vlad to get the tape or your boy doesn’t perform. Bottom line, I don’t give a damn if he never sees this stage or any other stage.”

Sim glowered openly at Pierce until a half-naked woman tugged on his white jacket and purred, “Simmie sweetie, you promised to show me a good time. He’s destroying the vibe in here.”

“Yeah, he is doing that, ain’t he?”

Seconds later, Vlad, a hefty, ivory-skinned bruiser, pulled up next to Sim, practically growled at Pierce, then looked over to Sim. “What’s up, man?”

Sim sighed hard before he said, “Need you to make a run, man.”

“What? The party’s just getting good.”

“It’ll still be good later.” Sim quickly explained the circumstances, which brought a frown to Vlad’s thick lips. He looked over to Steve. “Why can’t
he
go get it?”

“Out of the question,” Pierce replied with an unflinching gaze on Sim, daring a contradiction.

Vlad grumbled something they couldn’t quite catch, then trudged away.

Pierce didn’t give Sim another thought as he gestured to Steve to hit the dressing rooms to inform the other artists of the new schedule. Pierce went in the opposite direction, making a trip to see the sound engineers and lighting director to explain the changes.

Pierce could only shake his head. Simeon Cahill—like a certain two-term President—was living proof that mediocre students ruled the world. In college, Sim had done just enough to get by, but never enough to excel. Pierce, on the other hand, had taken his studies seriously. He kept his promise to his parents, completed four years, majoring in business and mass communications.

After graduating, Pierce pursued a career in music journalism. Then a late-night call from his old college friend put the wheels in motion to get MEG up and going. As the company grew under Pierce’s hard work and expertise, so had the problems between the two young men, eventually causing Pierce to leave the company but not the music business.

Pierce had returned to MEG almost two years ago with several platinum and gold albums to his credit. MEG, his heart, was in serious trouble and only a binding, legal contract detailing how and when the reins and total control would go to Pierce had lured him back from a position at Sony. Things hadn’t been the same since Pierce had decided that while they might be partners professionally, they would never again be close personally.

Sim constantly blew off Pierce’s concerns regarding MEG. Pierce couldn’t afford such arrogance. Everything could be lost in the time it took to draw a single breath. The sudden death of his parents was proof of that. Right now, Vincent Stalbaum sat in prison serving a fifteen-to-twenty-year sentence for vehicular manslaughter in their deaths. That fact would make some feel vindicated. Pierce wasn’t one of them. If it meant he could have his parents back, he would let that drunk driver go free in a New York minute. No amount of wishing or money could bring about that miracle. And no amount of prayer could make Sim straighten up and fly right.

Pierce and Steve reconnected just outside of the engineer’s booth. He saw Raven’s clutch under Steve’s arm and slid it out, remembering the woman it belonged to. “Mission accomplished, but I think you’re going to have a bigger problem on your hands.”

“Why do you say that,” Pierce inquired, now itching to get back to the gorgeous woman he had left on the chaise.

“That singer that’s all up on Simeon tonight is nothing but trouble.”

“What else is new?”

“She’s been sleeping with people to get music tracks, then sells them to other companies.”

“I haven’t seen her around MEG before.”

“Doesn’t mean that she’s not there when we’re taking care of other business.”

Pierce threw a glance at the VIP section. Sim was pushing the woman’s face into his lap—right out in the open! “Damn. I swear that man’s middle name is stupidity.”

Sim would never learn a much-needed lesson when it came to the opposite sex. His conquests weren’t without consequences—paternity suits, palimony suits, and suits over broken “verbal promises.” His escapades and recent choice of artists kept the legal department so busy, they were forced to hire a half dozen new attorneys, and it was putting a strain on MEG’s profits and creditability.

If that wasn’t enough, a shooting incident at a downtown club had put Sim in line for some serious jail time and almost put a major dent in that god complex which he wore like a suit of armor. But a few eyewitnesses, bribes, and one world-class lawyer later, he had become a free man and was only momentarily humbled. It hadn’t taken Sim long to return to his normal, arrogant self and over-indulgent ways.

The contract stating that Pierce was the COO, while Sim retained CEO status, would end in about a month from now. In the last year, MEG had lost several of their best artists because they didn’t think Pierce would stick around to guide their careers. Pierce had made one more attempt to turn things around by producing a reality television show to boost their image and gain new acts. It had worked wonders—temporarily. Sim, true to his character, was steadily digging holes in the process. When Sim finally turned the company over, MEG would be worth next to nothing. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what irked Pierce the most. Only lately had Pierce realized that Sim had only brought him back to MEG so that someone else would bear the blame when MEG failed. Pierce was trying to put things in place so that wouldn’t happen. Failure would mean over two hundred people would lose their jobs.

“Keep an eye on VIP,” he said to Steve. “Actually, just have that area curtained off so none of the other guests see what’s going on.”

“I’m on it.”

Pierce smoothly made his way through the crowd, searching for the woman who had, it seemed, appeared out of nowhere.

The navy blue chaise was still there.

Raven Armand was not.

Two days later, Raven curled up on her sofa and tried to focus on writing. Her rhythm had been off since she came back from New York. A call came through on her 800 number and since she needed a break, she answered on the third ring instead of letting it roll through to her assistant.

“Why did you run away?” The husky voice on the other end of the line brought her up short. She would never forget that voice for as long as she lived. “I was tired of waiting,” she answered.

“I wasn’t gone that long, so come again.”

“How did you find me, Pierce?” she whispered, putting her tablet on the cushion right next to her.

“Did you think I couldn’t? Raven Armand, national bestselling author? You’re all over the place. I still have your tablet and I promised to give it back to you. So why don’t we start with dinner?”

Raven swallowed hard. His voice was just as sexy as she remembered and it had triggered every fantasy that had filled her lonely nights. They had caused enough heat to melt the North Pole and a few other places.
Why him? Why now?
Her career was in full swing—a relationship was totally out of the question.

She had witnessed firsthand how a man had come and dismantled her once happy home. And she swore it would never happen to her.

❤ ❤ ❤

Raven had never wanted her son to experience what she had as a child—to be stigmatized and teased for his parents’ choices. She had chosen a pen name to protect him from backlash at school. Erotica had been all the rage, but parents might not have found it so chic when the son of a woman who wrote all those “freaky books” began dating their daughters.

She didn’t believed the dynamics of her family household were that much different from anyone else’s until she’d overheard suspicions in snippets of conversation between her neighbors, and accusations hurled during arguments between her parents, James and Jaylon. All because James was furious that his wife preferred a woman lover over him.

Anita and Jaylon’s relationship had started out as just another innocent workplace friendship, but had quickly developed into a romantic liaison. After much fighting, Raven’s parents separated, and Anita and her daughter Lorrie moved in with Jaylon, Raven, her brother Andrew, and older sister Janetta.

Observing their relationship and roles, Raven learned what it meant to be feminine and a breadwinner from Jaylon, and from Anita, she discovered how a woman could have masculine traits, yet stay at home to raise the kids, cook, and take care of the household. Add to the equation four children who were expected to pull their weight in chores, and it should have been a recipe for a successful relationship and a happy family. But one bad ingredient—specifically, Raven’s father—turned the situation into a disastrous mess.

Things came to a vicious head one afternoon when James Ripley was over for a visit. Several previous appearances had allowed Raven to figure out his routine—he would come to the house, reach for Drew and Janetta, and hug them, yet completely ignore Raven. Presents, clothes, money, and toys abounded for her brother, sister, and even Lorrie; but nothing—at no time—was ever bestowed upon Raven.

One particular day, Raven’s mother called James out on his actions. “Why are you mistreating your youngest child?”

“You know
that
child’s not mine,” he grumbled, popping the lapel of his suit jacket. “So I don’t know why you expect me to have anything to do with her.”

His gaze flickered over Raven, dismissing her with a single disdainful glance, which was mirrored in the eyes of Drew and Janetta. Six-year-old Raven ran to Anita for comfort. As the stoutly built woman with short-cropped hair bent down and wrapped her arms around the little girl, she looked into James’ eyes and let loose with a few choice words of what she felt about him.

“Dyke bitch,” he said through clenched teeth as he faced Anita. “What the hell do you have to say about what I do?”

Anita could hardly contain her temper. An ugly tone entered her voice as she said, “Since you want to be that way, you are not allowed to come to this house anymore. Jaylon will bring your children to you.”