Hook'd (3 page)

"No, absolutely not," Reese declined to her friend over the phone.

"C'mon, Reese, you know this would really help me out," Yasmine pleaded.

"Nope, I'm sorry. I love you, but there's no way in hell I'm having some rapist associated with my organization."

Cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder blade, she gathered her folders on her oak desk.

"He's not a rapist."

"Well according to the court, he is."

"And he was found innocent."

"Which is probably a lie."

"He was framed, Reese."

"Whatever. Rapist or not, I still don't want him associated with this organization."

If she knew her friend would bombard her with such nonsense, she wouldn't have even picked up the phone in the first place. For her to think she would even consider helping Cameron Lewis, the disgusting rapist, whose whole existence was a walking stereotype, she had to be out of her mind.

"Look, the reason I came to you in the first place is because your organization is well known around the city. It'll be just what he needs to revamp his image. I mean, what perfect way to show the world he's innocent by volunteering at a woman's shelter?"

"So that's what this is about? Revamping his image?"

The nerve.

"Forget the fact that he beat and raped an innocent woman. God forbid, he would at least have the decency to do it out of the pureness of his heart. But
no
, it's all about his image. You can't be serious," she ranted, her blood flaring.

She leaned back in her leather chair, counting silently to ten to calm herself down.

"It's not just about his image. He actually wants to do it."

"Oh please. Don't try to sway me like you do the rest of the public. It's insulting."

"Alright, fine. But he's willing to help fund it. He has a charity called the Cameron Lewis foundation. It provides young teens with college scholarships and things like that. It's doing really well and he's offering to help donate to your organization if you consider it."

"I don't need his funding. We're doing quite fine, thank you," she shot back.

"Well, can you at least consider it? It would really be great. If not for him, do it for the women in need. They're what matter the most."

Reese scoffed. Cheap shot.

Now wonder she was a damn publicist.

"Cute, Yas. Real cute."

"Just doing my job, girl." Yasmine chuckled. "No but seriously, please consider it and get back to me. Muah! Love ya." She hung up the phone.

Shaking her head, Reese placed the phone on the hook. Yasmine really had to be out of her mind. She had integrity. Morals. To even tarnish what she had built these past 13 years for some misogynistic low life, she would be a fool.

She erased her thoughts and gathered her notes for her board meeting. She had better things to do than to occupy her mind with such foolishness.

*

Reese kicked off her heels the minute she entered her home. Nothing more comforting than to be welcomed by the beautiful sound of...silence. After a busy day of running meetings, making conference calls, and everything else regarding work, she was relieved to be home. She lived in a 3 bedroom house in a suburban neighborhood of New Rochelle, just 30 minutes away from her Manhattan office. She loved it here because it provided her with a sense of privacy, which she valued. She didn't have to deal with the disruptions of chaotic noise and crime, just...peace and quiet.

She entered her room, to hear the melodic sound of her queen-sized bed calling her name. Boy, she couldn't wait to make love to her sheets tonight.

Out of habit, she turned on her plasma screen TV, then began running the water in her Jacuzzi in her master bathroom. She then stripped out of her clothes, tossing away her blouse, skirt, and her most annoying villain yet...her bra. She breathed out a sigh as her perky breasts bared free. She had been waiting all day to get that damn thing off. Reese brushed her pixie styled hair, molding it with grease with each stroke, before tying it securely with a silk wrap. She then scrubbed her moisturizing cream over her face, loving the way it made her bronze skin glow, especially under the radiant morning sun. It truly worked wonders.

"Now, we're back with boxing champion, Cameron Lewis..."

Reese froze for a second, then rushed into her room. On the screen, was none other than the boxing star, himself, seated across from CNN news reporter, Don Lennon for an interview.

"Thanks for joining us, we're glad to have you here," Lennon greeted.

"Thanks, Don. Glad to be here." Cameron nodded.

Reese took notice to his sleek black suit, tailored with a black button up, and grey tie. His neat fade tapered, with his low shaven beard evenly adorning his brawny jawline, he looked as professional as can be. She shook her head. Such a shame. Cameron Lewis was a looker. In fact, he was too sexy for his own damn good. If one were to take away his unlikeable personality, he would definitely be something to talk about. But of course, that would never happen.

"So, it's been a rough year for you, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, definitely." He nodded.

"Well, take us back. What exactly happened that night?"

"Well..."

As he recounted the events, Reese rolled her eyes at his story.

"Such bullshit," she spewed at the screen.

"So, you mentioned she framed you," the journalist spoke. "What do you think her motivation was for doing so?"

"What else, Don? Money. It's a known fact, that when you're an athlete or any famous person in this business, that's what bitches—excuse my language, women want from you. And they'll do anything to get it."

His response repulsed her. Bitches? Thankfully the censor had bleeped out the expletive, but she knew exactly what he said. What an arrogant piece of work.

This was exactly why he would never be associated with her company. It would be a slap in the face to all the abused women around the world.

Disgusted, she shut off the TV. She had enough.

Reese entered the bathroom, and slid her slender frame into the bubbling water. Leaning her back against the tub, she basked in the warm water as it massaged her skin. A sudden arousal heating her aching loins, she reached for her vibrator beside the tub and switched it on. She placed it on her clit, and moaned in pleasure, as the device quelled her firing hormones. She had been yearning for the relief.

When she hit her orgasm, she arched her back with a soft moan. Afterwards, she sat there weakly, heaving out rapid breaths.

God, she needed that.

"Can't believe I agreed to do this," Reese mumbled.

"You know I appreciate this, girl. I owe you one," Yasmine said with a smile.

After weeks of Yasmine's constant pestering, she finally agreed to her request. It took everything...
everything
she had, to agree to meet with him. She had to look at the bigger picture. It was about the organization. The women. Their needs. After doing some heavy researching, she learned that Cameron's foundation was well established around the globe. She knew, if they were to negotiate some type of deal, her company, 'Free The Heart' would be well funded and would also gain more publicity, due to him being a prominent figure in sports. Which was exactly what she needed. It wasn't like Free the Heart was struggling. But they weren't doing as well as previous years. Due to the declining economy, they had been facing a financial downturn, forcing them into budget cuts with a lack of effective resources. It wouldn't hurt to acquire more funding. The more, the better.

Yasmine had set up a meeting at a fine restaurant in Tribeca, where the three of them would discuss their business plan over brunch. If it were up to her, she would've much rather meet somewhere else more private. For one, she wasn't hungry. And two, she wasn't exactly keen on being seen in public with Cameron, the rapist. The last thing she needed was to end up in the tabloids.

Again, why did she agree to do this?

"Would you stop looking like that, Reese? I mean, damn. It's just a meeting, not a date," Yasmine joked and Reese shot her a glare. "Seriously girl, you need to loosen up sometimes. Always so mean. I swear you fight bitches in ya sleep."

"One more word, and I'm walking right out of here."

"Alright, alright, fine." Yasmine took a sip of her wine.

"And isn't it too early to be drinking that?"

"Had a long night. Between dealing with Cam and all the stuff he's got going on, not to mention all these events I have scheduled, I need this drink."

"I don't even know how you work with him."

"Who, Cam? Surprisingly, he's not that bad. He's actually one of the easiest clients I've had."

Reese rolled her eyes. "Oh please. I don't believe that."

"I'm serious. I know he might seem like this huge asshole, but he's been fine with me."

"Yeah, because you probably slept with him, that's why."

Yasmine gasped and Reese grinned.

"Listen bitch, me and Cam never slept together. I keep it strictly professional. Thank you."

"Right."

"And speaking of which, when was the last time you got some, missy?"

She cleared her throat, folding her legs. "I'll rather not talk about that."

"No, let's talk about it. How long? 5 years? 6 years?"

"Three, actually."

"Pshh, that's still too damn long. I couldn't do it. Walking around with all that sexual frustration. No wonder you're always so mad all the damn time."

"Say one more word, Yas. One more word." She raised her glass of orange juice, not afraid to throw it on her beautiful hair. Yasmine laughed and Reese shook her head, fighting a smile.

"I don't even know why I'm friends with you."

"Because your life would be boring as hell If I wasn't."

And that was true. They had been friends since college. And ever since she had known Yasmine, she had always been the life of the party. She loved to have fun. Loved to be in the mix. Which was why her career choice fit her so perfectly. But even as vastly different as they were, there was no one else she would rather call a friend. They had been through it all. From heartaches, to triumphs. Both experiencing different milestones in their lives, while supporting each other along the way. And now in their late 30's, their friendship still remained as strong as ever.

"He's late." Reese scoffed at the time on her phone. They were supposed to meet at 12 on the dot. It was already 12:30.

"He should be on his way. Maybe he got stuck in traffic."

Annoyed, she drummed her acrylic nails on the table. "I knew this was a bad idea—"

"Oh, there he is," Yasmine piped up.

Reese turned her head to notice Cameron entering the restaurant. With two muscular bodyguards by his side, he strolled through the restaurant with ease, as though he were some sort of king of the town. She could tell he basked in the attention as patrons gasped and snapped pictures. And it left nothing but a bitter stench to her senses.

When he approached the table, he gave Yasmine a kiss on the cheek. "How you ladies doing? Sorry I'm late."

He extended his hand to Reese. "How you doing?"

She dismissed him. "Do you know how long you kept us waiting?"

He paused, before taking a seat across from her.

"Sorry about that. Got caught in traffic." He removed his shades and placed them on the table. His eyes roamed her features, before dipping to her breasts clothed in her satin peach button up top. He couldn't even hide his lust as he licked his lips like a deprived dog in heat, only turning her off even more.

"Sorry, I didn't get your name," he spoke in a smoother baritone.

"Sharese," she told him unmoved.

"Nice to meet you, Sharese." He nodded, his gaze dipping to her breasts once again. "I'm sure you already know who I am. No need for the introduction."

Ugh.

"Actually, I don't know who you are."

He chuckled. "What?"

"What do you play? Football, basketball? Oh let me guess, you’re a rapper, right."

His face plastered with shock. And it brought her nothing but pleasure to shoot his massive ego down.

She turned to her friend. "Who did you say this was again?"

Yasmine gave her a look. "Reese."

"What is this a game?" He spoke up, and she met his glare. "Cut the bullshit. You know exactly who I am."

"No, I don't. Sorry, enlighten me."

"Yasmine, what is this, a joke?" He scolded her.

"No, it's not a joke. She knows who you are, she's just teasing you."

Reese rolled her eyes. So much for being a friend.

"Well, I see we're all being adults here." He scoffed, shaking his head.

A waiter approached the table. "How're you doing Mr. Lewis? It's a pleasure to have you here this afternoon. Can I get you anything to drink, sir?"

"Yeah, let me get the most expensive Champagne ya'll have."

"The
Perrier Jouet
?"

"Yeah. Bring that."

Typical.

"Sure thing." The blonde haired, waiter turned to the women. "And would you ladies like any refills? Or anything else to drink?”

"Yes, please." Yasmine handed him her empty glass. "More wine."

"And you ma'am?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," Reese declined.

"Order what you want, baby. I got it," Cameron offered.

"First of all, I'm not your baby. And second of all, I have my own money. I could pay for my own shit, thank you." She shot back with a pretentious smile.

Cameron fell silent. Expecting a rebuttal, it surprised her when an amused smile curved his lips, as his thumb slowly grazed the thick hairs on his chin. In that moment, she took notice to his features, realizing how much better looking he was in person. From that smooth coffee brown skin of his, to his thick eyebrows hovering over his fierce dark brown eyes, to his full rounded shape lips that she never expected to look so...luscious up close. When his tongue slid across its plump flesh, she snapped to her senses.

Ugh!

She broke her gaze, aggravated.

"Anything else?" the waiter spoke up.

Cameron licked his lips, forcing his gaze away. "Uh, nah. Thankyou."

The waiter left. Reese took a sip of her water and cleared her throat.

"Anyway, Cameron let's get—"

"Cam," he corrected.

She met his stare.

"Cameron," she continued and he smirked. "As I was saying, let's get down to business. So, I'm guessing Yasmine's already told you about my organization, 'Free The Heart'. It's a non-profit that provides shelter for battered women. Those who've been abused and raped, something I'm sure is right up your alley. So—"

"Holdup, what?"

Yes, she went there.

"Whatchu tryna say?" He scowled, leaning forward.

"Oh boy," Yasmine mumbled.

"You know exactly what I'm trying to say."

"You tryna call me a rapist."

"I don't need to. The media's done that enough."

His fiery eyes pierced hers, as she glared back, not backing down. None of them said a word, battling within the midst of silence. He clenched his jaw, breaking his gaze.

"Fuck this." He turned to his bodyguard. "Aye, go tell the waiter to cancel the order. We outta here."

His bodyguard did what he was told.

"Wait, you're leaving?" Yasmine asked.

"Yeah. I'm sick of this bitch and her mouth." He stood up.

"Bitch?" Reese blurted out. "Who the hell are you calling a bitch?"

"You!" He spewed, before walking away.

She gasped, appalled. He had the nerve!

Now causing a scene, the crowd of people pulled out phones, snapping pictures and recording the incident. She should've been embarrassed at the unwanted attention, but she was so damn pissed off to even care.

"Go on and leave, you damn rapist!" She stood up.

"Bitch, fuck you!" He spun around and his security blocked him.

"No, fuck you! I wish they would've let your ass rot in jail, you arrogant son of a bitch!"

He yelled out obscenities as his security barged him out of the restaurant. Her blood flaring, Reese huffed out rapid breaths. She glanced around at the set of eyes and cameras surrounding her, and suddenly flushed with embarrassment. She plopped herself on the chair.

"The fucking nerve of him."

"Oh my god," Yasmine whispered, rubbing her forehead. "I can't believe what just happened."

"Happy now?" Reese shot her a glare. "Now you see why I didn't wanna get involved with his arrogant ass."

With a huff, she grabbed her things.

"Ma'am, we're gonna have to ask you to leave," the restaurant manager approached them.

"Good. Give me the fucking check."