The Secret Heir & After Hours Agenda
Auteur·e
Zuri Day
Lectures
16,5K
Chapitres
21
One
After a long and stressful workweek, it was finally TGIF. Reign Eddington was very thankful that it was Friday, and in a great mood. She was about to cap off a successful business trip by attending her pro basketball boyfriend’s signing celebration. Everyone in the sports world and anyone watching TV or surfing the web had seen the announcement. The Chicago Bulls had signed her guy, Trenton “Super Hot Jump Shot” Carpenter to a five-year, fifty-five-million-dollar deal that included a fifteen-million-dollar signing bonus. The money was nice, but that wasn’t the main reason Reign was so pleased about Trenton’s good fortune. The five-year contract meant that she didn’t have to worry about him being traded away from Chicago. Relationships with professional athletes were challenging enough without adding distance to the mix. Being with a superstar player, one whose popularity transcended basketball into A-list celebrity status, was an even harder, sometimes impossible, relationship to navigate. Their first year of dating had proved that. All the travel—forty-plus away games. All the components that made up his lucrative empire—shoe deals, corporate sponsorships, the investment portfolio her brother Jake managed. All the women, groupies, barracudas, hangers-on. All the haters. The unnecessary BS.
There had been more than one incident where she’d questioned his loyalty. The last was eight months ago when pictures of him cozied up with a certain famous, alluring pop star had been splashed all over the web. Blatant honesty had saved him. There had been almost constant arguments leading up to the affair. Jealousy, insecurities, mistrust on both sides. He’d accused her of flirting with a teammate. She’d admittedly been a bit too friendly with one of Jake’s clients but had quickly reminded Trenton that she was only guilty of playful teasing while he’d done much worse and more often.
They’d been on an unofficial break when he’d slipped up with the busty brunette, and had stayed apart for two months. They’d not been technically exclusive when he’d cheated, and Reign hadn’t been completely innocent, either, but through the whole sordid situation she’d had a realization. She wanted monogamy. It had taken a slew of extravagant gifts, almost nightly phone conversations, several heart-to-hearts and an ironclad commitment to exclusivity for Trenton to win her back. But her return had come with a warning: “Cheat again and I’m gone for good.”
Since then, he’d been on his best behavior. There’d even been hints of forever, so much so that when Cupid shot his bow next month, she wouldn’t be surprised to see an engagement ring attached. Having a relationship with a man that every other woman wanted hadn’t been easy, but it was worth it.
That was why tonight was going to be super special. Company business had taken her to New York with her father, Derrick, and sister, Maeve. She hadn’t been sure she’d be back in time to make the party. Trenton hadn’t been happy, but he’d understood. Business came first. Especially when said business involved a family empire. When the lavish, deal-closing dinner she’d thought would take four hours finished in two, Reign couldn’t believe her luck. She’d headed to the airport, calling Trenton along the way. After repeatedly getting voice mail, she’d finally sent a text just before the company plane had taken off for Chicago.
As if celebrating her boyfriend’s good fortune wasn’t enough, there was one more reason Reign was excited about tonight. The celebration would officially kick off her personal business. After years of dreaming about an online presence as a lifestyle influencer, she’d taken Jake’s advice, followed his business model, and revamped her desire into an area not only closer aligned to a proved skill set, but also closer to something that complemented the family business. Something she was already known for and very good at. She’d created a branding business—Make It Reign—to expand her marketing and public relations expertise outside the finance arena.
Everything about tonight—from the balloons, tablecloths, napkins and invites to the complimentary ball caps and shot glasses for the men and crystal-studded wineglasses and tees for the ladies—would bear his unique logo. An artistic rendition of Trenton’s profile with his short trademark twists, sexy scowl and one hand fluidly releasing a basketball, transposed over the letters TC in a commanding font. The photographer she’d hired would capture the action, along with a slew of media outlets covering the festive aftermath of Trenton’s good news.
By morning, pictures of her TC branding would be seen everywhere, worn by some of America’s favorite A-listers. A line of merchandise—more hats, tees and a signature shoe—courtesy of Ace Montgomery, her best friend London’s internationally known, award-winning, designer husband, would follow the rollout. With his management team and the front office fully behind her ideas, this would not only be a stellar launch for Make It Reign, but sales created from tonight’s publicity alone would potentially add tens of millions to Trenton’s already overflowing coffers.
The flight landed early. A stretch limo sat idling on the tarmac to whisk her directly to Verve, Chicago’s latest nightlife sensation. Still no text from Trenton, but she wasn’t worried. He was no doubt being pulled in a thousand directions while basking in a sea of congratulations from adoring fans.
On the drive to the club, she went from day to evening by replacing the conservative pinstriped suitcoat worn over a little black dress with a blinged-out, one-of-a-kind version of the T-shirt each specially invited guest received. She’d just released her hair from its clasp, spruced up her makeup and traded comfortable pumps for a pair of sexy stilettos when the driver arrived at the entrance. He placed the car in Park and hurried around to get her door. She settled a black faux mink around her shoulders then pulled a crisp bill touting Ben Franklin’s picture from her clutch and tipped the driver.
“Have a beautiful evening, Ms. Eddington.”
Reign thought about the barely there Fifth Avenue purchase to be worn during her and Trenton’s private after-party and smiled.
“That’s exactly the kind I have planned.”
A slew of cameras went off immediately, one from the photographer of a Point du Sable television reporter she recognized. She bypassed the line and walked to the door. The manager recognized her and ushered her inside. Reign wasn’t unaware of the looks and whispers as she glided past at least a hundred people hoping for a chance to get inside. The glares and comments from the women. The stares and compliments from the men.
She was a beautiful woman who’d inherited the best traits from parents Derrick and Mona. She was a member of a family recognized as Illinois royalty, especially in the township of Point du Sable where the Eddingtons lived. She was smart, gifted, drew in people with her magnetism. Yet she wasn’t conceited. She didn’t always see what others saw. Her siblings had set the bar for the baby of the family very high. Reign felt she was always trying to reach it and sometimes fell short. In her mind, Make It Reign would close the gap and help make her feel as talented and successful as her sister and brothers.
She stepped into an establishment pulsating with life. The music was loud and lively, a steady bass beat fairly shaking the walls. Everybody was dancing, conversing, fully engaged. She recognized several faces while being escorted to the elevator leading to the third floor’s private VIP section where, much like in an arena, Trenton would be holding court. VIP was as turned up as the crowd downstairs. Her TC logo was everywhere—guys sporting the hats, women wearing the tees. Myriad conversations went on at once. She smiled, taking in the joyous atmosphere. All of this for her baby and what he’d accomplished. A Chicago Bull for five more years!
Reign strolled to the plush booths that lined the back wall. A pair of long legs stretched out from the last one. Her strides increased, effortlessly walking like a runway model in five-inch heels.
“Hey, ba—”
Screech! The scene she took in stopped all movement. The legs belonged to Trenton. He wasn’t alone. His lips were moving, but he wasn’t talking. He, or more specifically, his tongue, was engaged in a rather serious get-to-know with the scantily clad woman sitting on his lap. The tableau paralyzed Reign, but not for long. Noting an open bottle of Dom on the table, she envisioned a champagne shower over their heads and took a step to make it happen. Less than a yard away from completing the mission, a strong hand clamped her arm.
“Let me go!”
She yanked away from the determined grip, whipped around and came face-to-face with Donald, the photographer she’d hired to document Trenton’s celebration and her business launch.
“Cameras are everywhere,” he hastily whispered. “Remember the brand.”
The caustic words she’d ironically shared with him just weeks before brought her out of the haze of anger temporarily clouding her good sense. Aware of cameras now capturing her moves, she looked up and saw that either her outburst or an observant friend had helped Trenton get the memo. His girlfriend, the one who was supposed to be exclusive, had arrived. He pushed the woman off his lap and stood in one motion.
“Reign!”
Like a ballerina in a jewelry box, she spun around on the heel of one stiletto and quickly retraced her steps. Trenton’s voice grew louder.
“Baby, wait!”
So, now I’m your baby? Reign walked faster.
She reached the elevator, tapped her VIP card on the scanner and willed the doors to open.
Trenton reached her in less than a dozen long strides. “Reign!” He placed a hand on her shoulder.
She jumped as though scalded. “Don’t! Touch! Me!”
The elevator doors opened. Thank God, it was empty. She stepped inside. Trenton followed.
“Get out, Trenton.”
“No,” he all but slurred.
Drunk. It figured. Obviously, the Dom she’d seen on the table hadn’t been his first bottle.
“Let me explain.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Someone on another floor pushed the elevator button, causing the doors to close. Reign stepped back and hugged the wall, glaring at the man she’d devoted head and heart to for the past eighteen months.
“How could you?” She managed to push the words past the lump in her throat. “This night is everything!”
“Baby, I thought...” He ran both hands over his head and along his face. Reign imagined the move was to help sober him up.
Good luck with that. She shook her head, disgusted.
“Why didn’t...how... I thought you were in New York.”
“Clearly, I wasn’t expected.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Missed calls and voice mails showed up on phones. He’d get that reality check later.
“You knew how important this night was for me, for my business. You didn’t care!”
“I did. I do! Everybody loves your stuff, baby, they—”
Reign choked out a laugh as the elevator doors opened. She pushed through a group waiting to get on. Accolades for Trenton followed them as the argument continued.
“Save it, Trenton. Hope the logo works out for you.” She yanked her phone from her purse and texted the driver. “Don’t expect me to follow through with the rest of the plan though. You’ll get my bill for the design in the mail.”
“C’mon, Reign. Don’t be like that. Those girls mean nothing to me.”
“Oh, girls. As in plural.”
“No, those, that...you know what I mean.”
“Sadly, I think I do.”
Reign hurried toward the main entrance but, remembering the long line of fans, changed course and made a beeline for a side door. More fans noticed Trenton and yelled his name as he fell into step beside her.
“Stop following me!” She spoke quietly and through clenched teeth, aware of the eyes turned in their direction and cell phones snapping shots.
Trenton ignored her demand and easily kept pace. “Why are you so mad? That girl was just a fan congratulating me on the deal.”
“Oh, is that what you call it? I’d think it would be kind of hard to convey that with your tongue down her throat.”
“We weren’t—”
“You were!”
“Sweetheart...”
Reign tried to tune out his excuses. She checked her phone. No response from the driver, whom she’d relieved for the night and, for all she knew, could be halfway back to the Point. She sent another message anyway and attached a 9-1-1. Thankfully, he answered.
Be there in five.
She yanked open the side door, not at all minding the frigid air that kept her from internally combusting.
Trenton continued to follow her. “Sweetheart, it was nothing. Please don’t leave. This night’s celebration is for you too.”
“Trenton, I do not want to talk to you.”
“Come on, Reign,” he pleaded, his intoxicated tongue making her name sound like Wayne. “This is our night! This is the moment we envisioned, why we worked so hard.”
“This is harassment. Leave me alone.”
Trenton tried to embrace her. She shimmied away and turned to leave. He caught her arm.
“Stop it!” She struggled to free herself. Trenton’s hold tightened.
“You heard the lady.”
A slight scuffle followed that voice of authority. “Your presence is no longer desired.”
A stranger now had Trenton’s arm tucked behind his back, the other pinned to his side.
They’d both been startled by the man who’d quietly walked up and intervened. Reign couldn’t believe someone had dared mess with Trenton. She didn’t speak, but gratitude and curiosity shone in her eyes.
“Man, get off me!” Trenton shouted while trying to free himself from what appeared to Reign to be an ironlike grip.
“Only if your anger has been contained and you kindly give her the space she has requested.”
“I’m okay,” Reign said, her voice a shaky mixture of anger, embarrassment and the pain of a heart breaking in real time.
The stranger didn’t appear to believe her words but released his hold on Trenton.
Six-foot-five Trenton rubbed his arm while turning to more fully take in a man Reign guessed to be around five-eleven. In the moment, the difference was negligible. Power exuded from his compact body. Reign didn’t know who he was, but the guy sounded like someone used to having his orders followed.
“Who the hell are you?” Trenton asked.
“At the moment, I’m this woman’s defender.”
Someone must have heard the commotion. A few lookie-loos came around the corner. Seeing what would surely become a growing crowd, Trenton managed a chuckle.
“Where are you from, Wakanda? Back off and mind your business.”
The expression on the stranger’s face didn’t change, nor did his soft tone. Shifting away from the onlookers, he said, “I am also someone who you do not wish to make angry. Please, leave her be.”
Trenton took a step forward and stumbled. The stranger righted him even as he moved to become a barrier between Trenton and Reign. Her attention shifted from the horrible betrayal she’d witnessed inside the club to the heroic scenario playing out now.
Who is this guy?
A staredown ensued. More phones were pulled out. Reign watched the stranger step into the shadow to avoid being photographed. She did, too. The side door burst open. Trenton’s friend, Luke the one who’d spotted her inside the club, bounded down the walk, her photographer, Donald, and two of Trenton’s bodyguards close behind.
“Is there a problem?” a burly guard asked, glancing from Trenton to the stranger and back.
Luke spoke up. “Trenton! Let’s go back in the club before a fight and not your new contract becomes front-page news.”
Trenton glared at the stranger still watching their exchange. “You’re lucky I’m in a celebratory mood and we have an audience. Next time will be different.”
“There won’t be a next time,” the stranger calmly responded. His eyes remained on Trenton as the men reentered the building then slowly shifted to Reign. She felt a wave of something warm and protective from his gaze.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
She wasn’t but nodded anyway, feeling his eyes still on her. Mesmerizing, Reign decided when she looked up and met his gaze. That was the best way to describe his eyes. Under the outside lighting, they were dark brown, almost obsidian. They held a sparkle. He wasn’t handsome in the classical sense, yet there was something breathtaking about him. Another time, another place, Reign might be interested. Not now.
Her limo turned the corner and stopped right behind a car that had pulled to the curb, the man inside urging the stranger to get in. It was an older model vehicle that didn’t at all match the aura of the man in front of her. She’d imagined the fashionably dressed stranger in a high-end sports car or luxury sedan. He turned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked back at her.
“What’s your name?”
“Reign.”
He smiled, a move that seemed to wrap around her like an intimate hug. Not only his gentle, caring expression, but the commanding energy that emanated from the man behind it.
“I like the name.”
The man inside the idling car rolled down the passenger window. “Come on, man, we’ve got to go!”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” the stranger repeated. “Do you have a ride? Do you need a taxi?”
“I’m fine, really. Go on with your friend.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Reign.”
“What’s your name?”
He hesitated before saying, “It’s not important. I’m just a good Samaritan glad I could help.”
“All right, then. Take it easy.”
The man gave a slight bow before striding over and getting into the car and a brief wave before it eased away from the curb and down the street.
Reign watched the taillights until the car reached the traffic light at the end of the next block and turned right.
She felt a certain void, an emptiness, and not just from seeing her boyfriend with some random girl. No, it was that guy. The stranger. Showing up as a knight in shining armor. Too bad that just moments before she’d learned that knights like that didn’t exist.
