Little Black Break (Little Black Book #2) (3 page)

The next six months of my life would consist of all things weddings.

Flowers.

Venues.

Invites.

Dresses.

The works.

It was exciting, and the idea of becoming Mrs. Sebastian Black thrilled me. Still, something sinister tugged at my center. No matter how happy I felt, a sense of dread still lingered in the back of my mind. There was still that little something that told me that happily ever after didn’t really exist.  At least, not for me anyway.

A LIGHT TAP ON THE door drew my attention away from the massive pile of contracts on my desk. Digging my fingers into the tight muscles in the back of my neck, I sighed in aggravation at the interruption. Already, I’d been interrupted three times. If the disruptions continued, I’d never get my fucking work done.

Also, it didn’t help that my mind kept going back to Rosslyn and our morning together. She’d looked so sexy sprawled across our kitchen table like the feast she was. I tasted her body and relished in her flavor. Hours later, I could still taste her on my tongue.

“Come in,” I mumbled.

Without waiting for the door to open, I went back to signing the final pages of the longest fucking contract I’d ever signed in my life. Buying new properties and starting new businesses meant a lot of paperwork.

I didn’t bother to look up at the intrusion because I knew who it was. No one else had the balls to interrupt me while I was working.

His heavy footfalls shook the table by the door of my office, and the strong scent of his pungent aftershave reached my nose as I sucked in a breath in aggravation. He didn’t say a word as he approached my desk, but his bulky form blocked the light from the paper I was in the process of trying to read.

“What do you have for me today, Mac?” I asked without looking up.

A thick pile of envelopes landed on top of my desk with a smack. I flipped through them quickly with my thumb.

“The usual … bills, trash, and hate mail.”

I nodded, expecting him to leave quickly the way he usually did, but he didn’t move. Instead, the room around us went quiet and the only thing I could hear was his heavy breathing above me. I gritted my teeth together as I set my pen down and looked up at the giant who engulfed the room around us.

“Is that all? Rosslyn mentioned you stop by earlier looking a little frazzled.”

Macintosh Bentley was my head of security. I’d found him through a friend of a friend, and after a thorough background check and much research on my part, I’d hired him. He was damn good at his job, guarding the doors of Clive’s as if the red-draped walls of my establishment held his life force.

He was everywhere I needed him to be, sometimes taking charge of security detail before I even had to ask, and he did everything I needed him to do and more. Mac went above and beyond for his paycheck, and he’d been doing so for the last year that he’d been working for me.

He was nothing like Vick had been—more friend than employee. I only knew the things I needed to know about Mac. I knew about his two years in Fredrick for almost beating a man to death. I knew about his short stint in county when he was eighteen for drug possession. I knew the important stuff. I didn’t want to know the personal shit, and I think he liked it that way, as well.

Getting emotionally involved with my employees or their lives was strictly forbidden. It was a new rule of mine; one that I’d set firmly into place the second Vick took her last breath. She was like a sister to me—trustworthy, dependable—yet she’d put my life and the life of the woman I loved in danger.

Never again.

Criminal history aside, I trusted Mac to get the job done. Hell, if anything, I trusted him more
because
of his dark background. Having a black past didn’t mean you couldn’t be trusted. My past was as black as night, and I was an honest man … most days.

He didn’t answer me.

Instead, his shoulders stiffened and his black eyes moved cautiously over my face.

“What’s wrong, Mac?”

“You got another one.”

Confused, I frowned as I tried to figure out what he was talking about. “Another what?”

And then I saw it.

A crisp envelope was pinched between his thick fingers. The white of the starchy paper stood out against his dark, calloused skin. 

My shoulders stiffened, more out of annoyance than anything else.

“Are you sure it’s like the others?”

He nodded. “Same handwriting … same everything.”

“Let me see it.”

The letter was addressed to me. Two words stood out in thick, black ink.

Sebastian Black.

There was no return address—not even the address of the club was written on it—just my name—dark and daunting—taunting me from the seemingly innocent, white paper. No addresses could only mean one thing. This letter hadn’t been delivered by any postman.

No.

Whoever was writing these letters was ballsy enough to personally drop them off in my territory.

That thought wasn’t enough to make me overreact irrationally, but it was enough to make me worry more than I wanted. Whoever was responsible for the now four envelopes mysteriously dropped off at the door of my booming establishment was possibly lurking around my club—around my home.

I hated to think that this person was also drinking my liquor or chatting it up with the waitresses just down the stairs from where I slept at night—where the woman I loved slept. Still, I had more important things to think about. At this point, it was nothing more than glorified hate mail, not a death threat. I wasn’t about to lose my shit over something that was probably a stupid prank.

Ripping open the envelope, I pulled out the single piece of paper. It was wrinkled and dirty, so I smoothed it out before reading the short sentence in the familiar jagged handwriting.

I chuckled to myself before folding the paper and shoving it back in its envelope.

Too late.

“Put it with the others.” I tossed the letter onto my desk and went back to work.

He hesitated only a second until he took the envelope from my desktop. My nonchalant nature worried Mac. I could sense that in the tightness of his bulky shoulders and popping muscles in his jawline, but I wasn’t about to let a few fucked-up letters turn me into a paranoid asshole.

I was a rich and powerful businessman, and I didn’t become that by being afraid of words written on paper. I butted heads with the most dangerous men in New York City. I broke bread with mob members and did business with some of the richest men in the country. Fear wasn’t something I understood.

Getting mail of all sorts came with the life I led. I was a man with deep pockets, and everyone knew it. I’d heard it all; from long-lost siblings to women claiming that I’d fathered their children. My favorite, though, had to be the couple who claimed they were my long-lost parents.

It was all bullshit.

On top of those trying to get rich quick with their lies and deception, I got my fair share of hate mail, but no one as persistent as the new guy. Still, I wasn’t concerned. He’d lose interest at some point, and I was a very patient man. Not to mention, I didn’t pay Mac the big bucks for nothing. With him watching our backs, I knew I had nothing to worry about.

No one was bound to push Mac’s buttons anytime soon. He was a beast who stood, at least, six-foot-five and weighed close to three hundred pounds of muscle. He had the steely glare of a man who dared you to give him a reason to crush something. His bald head gleamed under the overhead lighting and the sprawling tattoo that climbed up the side of his thick neck was a direct contrast to the starched black suit he wore while in my employ.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to follow up on this, Black?”

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I asked a more important question. “Is everything set up for tonight?”

My pen slid across the final page of the contracts, my name jagged and broken across the signature line. Setting my pen down, I leaned back in my chair and cracked my neck to relieve the pressure.

“Just the way you asked. Do you want me to make the call?”

I shook my head. “No. I’ll do that. Just make sure Martin’s ready to pick her up at six.”

“He’ll be there. Anything else?”

“Yeah. Come find me if I’m not downstairs by four.”

He nodded then turned to leave my office. The door opened, letting in the sounds of the workers downstairs who were prepping for the night ahead. Instead of leaving, Mac stood in the doorway, his thick fingers wrapped around the doorknob.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to look into it? I got a real bad feeling, Black.”

“The envelopes? No.”

“But Black-”

“They’ll get bored, Mac. I don’t need you sitting around worrying over these letters. I need you on security detail. I need you watching over Rosslyn.”

“And if they don’t get bored?”

I looked up at him, his steely glare cutting me from across the room. He was worried when I knew there was no reason to worry. “They will. Drop it.”

He didn’t say anything else as he turned and left the room. Mac understood my word was law. I’d said my piece on the subject of the letters, and I wasn’t going to sit around dwelling on nothing. If someone wanted to threaten me, then he or she could grow a pair and approach me in person.

Until then, I had more important things to think about. Things like haunting green eyes and pouty lips. Things like juicy thighs and long, shapely legs. Rosslyn Harris—my Jessica Rabbit and soon-to-be wife—was the only thing I could ever seem to think about.

I LISTENED TO THE PHONE ring as I waited for her to pick up the line. I was anxious to hear her voice. It’d been a week since I’d officially proposed to Rosslyn. For the first year of our relationship, I had bounced the idea around. I knew I wanted her. She was mine, and I wanted to make it official, but every time I reached into my pocket to pull out the ring, I choked.

Commitment didn’t come easily for me. My past made sure of that, but after two years, I reached into my pocket sure of what I wanted, pulled out the ring, and dropped to my knee for her.

Only her.

She was the only woman in the world who could make me feel anything. The only woman who could see me—the real me and not just the wealthy carefree business owner or the playboy who couldn’t feel—Rosslyn saw me, and better than that, she loved whatever it was she saw. I could be myself; she would look at me with a love-struck look in her eyes, and she’d smile and melt away any bad I ever knew.

I was never letting that go. Nothing in the universe could make me leave her side.

Nothing.

However, over the last few months, things had slowed. Between the club and opening a new business, I was away often.  Rosslyn stayed busy with her classes, and when she wasn’t enlightening her mind, she was giving my money away to every cause she could think of.

She used the things she learned in her classes interning at the local social service agency to make a difference. She was making sure that children without a family never had to go through the things she or I went through growing up.

I loved her for it. Her heart knew no bounds, but the truth was I missed her. I was starting to feel as though something inside me was missing. She held me together—made me feel whole—and I was slowly losing that sensation the longer we went without spending actual time together.

Sure, I enjoyed her body during many nights, as well as mornings when I could taste her, but no matter how long I spent inside her body, I wanted entrance into her mind. I needed her mentally, and I felt her absence with her new busy schedule.