After Hours Agenda
Autorzy
Kianna Alexander
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16,9K
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These fierce rivals propose a merger between their companies…and in the sheets. She's his biggest rival in the music industry…and his steamiest temptation! Atlanta record executive Pierce Hamilton needs a bold move to prove he's ready to take over his family's legendary studio. The biggest gamble? Revisiting a merger with rival studio 404 Sound. That means wooing CEO Nia Woodson, who's never shown signs of being wooable. Melting Nia's frosty exterior soon leads to a different kind of merger — a sizzling between-the-sheets kind! Strictly casual, of course. Two busy music moguls have no time for a relationship. But can their deepening bond, and Pierce's business plan, survive a bombshell revelation that could destroy Nia's family?
One
Standing near the crystal punch bowl, Nia Woodson used the matching ladle to dole out the bright pink liquid into her paper cup. Taking a sip, she smiled as the cold strawberry lemonade concoction washed down her throat.
She was in the family room of the palatial home her younger brother Blaine shared with his wife, Eden. Laughter and conversation flowed all around Nia as her relatives gathered around her very pregnant sister-in-law. Eden was due to deliver the very first Woodson grandchild within the next few weeks, and the excitement in the room was off the charts.
The space was a sea of pink, in celebration of the bouncing baby girl due to make her entrance soon. Mindful of the slight chill of early November, Nia had chosen a soft, long-sleeved pink sweaterdress. The slim-fitting garment was paired with flat-soled brown boots that matched the thin leather belt encircling her waist.
As she stood off to the side, lost in her own thoughts, she couldn’t help but be reminded that she was now the last single Woodson sibling. Even her youngest brother, Miles, whom she’d expected to practice lifelong bachelorhood, had married the previous week. He and his platinum-selling singer wife, Cambria Harding-Woodson, were currently enjoying their honeymoon in the Maldives.
But I’m the oldest. And the CEO. Whatever slack there is, no matter the area or department, I’m the one who always picks it up. She knew her role within her family: she was the serious one, the organized one, the one who always had it together. And that always applied, whether in business or in family matters.
Up until recently, marriage hadn’t been something she’d given much thought to. I’m in charge of 404... Work is life. Who has time to build the kind of connections that lead to these long-term, committed relationships? Everyone else but me, apparently.
“You okay, sis?”
Nia returned to reality and nodded in response to her sister’s question. “Yeah, Teagan. I’m fine. Just gathering wool, as Granny used to say.”
“Mmm-hmm.” The baby girl of the Woodson clan seemed less than convinced of her elder sister’s honesty. “If you say so. Come on back over with the rest of us. We’re about to play a game.”
“I’m coming.” She reluctantly followed Teagan and took a seat in the cream leather armchair positioned across from the matching sectional sofa. Watching as Eden’s cousin, Ainsley, brought out a tray of baby bottles filled with a mysterious purple liquid, Nia cringed. Ugh. These shower games are so corny.
Teagan giggled as she took a bottle from the tray. “If Mom were here, she’d be eating this up.”
“You’re right, she would,” Gage chuckled as he accepted a bottle from his wife. “Thanks, Ains.”
Ainsley pecked Gage on the forehead and moved on with the tray.
“When is Mom coming back from Aunt Laurie’s place in Charlotte?” Blaine, wearing a pink T-shirt emblazoned with the words Fatherhood Loading, directed the question at Nia.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. She just said she’d be back in town in time for the gala.”
Circling a hand over her round belly, Eden remarked, “She sent me the largest spa gift basket I’ve ever seen, plus some adorable things for the baby.” Eden looked put together yet comfortable in her pink floral empire-waist dress. A simple crown fashioned of pink roses sat nestled atop her curls.
“And I’m sure there’s more to come.” Caleb, who’d been sitting in sullen silence in the recliner near the dining room entrance, shook his head. “Addy is incandescent with excitement over her first grandchild. The fact that she’s not here speaks to just how angry she must still be with me.”
Nia swallowed. This was the first time her father had spoken in the last hour or so, and his words only served as a reminder of the giant rift between her mother and father and the scandal that had caused it. Before leaving town, Addy had depended on Nia heavily for emotional support, and while she missed her mother, Nia was somewhat grateful for the break.
Ever the ray of sunshine, Teagan said, “Let’s not dwell on that, Dad. Let’s see who’s gonna dominate at this game.” She held up her baby bottle and gave it a shake.
Nia took the last bottle from the tray and eyed the liquid inside. “Ainsley, what’s even in here?”
Ainsley laughed. “It’s just cran-grape juice.”
Slightly comforted by that knowledge, she nodded.
“Alright, y’all know the drill.” Ainsley held up her hand. “We’re gonna see who can finish the bottle fastest. No cheating by taking off the lid or biting a bigger hole in the nipple, either.” Ainsley glanced around the room. “Okay, bottles up, folks. Ready...set...go!”
Nia felt ridiculous drinking from the baby bottle, but since silliness was the whole point of the game, she went along with it. Looking around at all the other full-grown adults swigging from their bottles made her feel slightly better about it.
Within a few moments, Gage managed to empty his bottle, collapsing the thin plastic in the process. Ainsley blew a whistle to signal the end of the game. “Looks like Gage is our winner, y’all.”
“Victory is mine!” Holding his empty bottle above his head, Gage grinned. “Nobody in this room can match my...suction.” He and his wife exchanged a long look.
Blaine elbowed his brother, and Teagan nearly fell out of her seat laughing.
Rather than dwell too long on the implications of Gage’s words, Nia asked her sister, “When is Max coming back, again?”
“Day after tomorrow.” Teagan beamed at the mention of her husband, bassist Maxton McCoy. “I can’t wait.”
Nia felt a sigh rising within her, one of happiness tinged with a bittersweet sensation, but she held it in.
A few hours later, Nia stood by the front door. She was the last one to leave, even though she’d long since had her fill of baby-related revelry.
Eden caught hold of her hand. “Thanks again for the bassinet. I know it will come in handy.”
“No problem. I saw it in the store a few days ago. One look at those precious little dancing teddy bears and I couldn’t resist.” She gave Eden’s hand a squeeze. “Rest up, sis.”
Blaine draped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Nia. I’ll see that she takes it easy.”
“You’d better. I expect you to wait on her hand and foot.” Nia pinched Blaine’s arm. “I don’t want Eden or the baby stressed in any way.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Blaine offered a mock salute.
Heading outside, she returned to her car and climbed inside. Starting the engine, she drove around the circular drive and out into traffic.
Absently scrolling through his social feed, Pierce Hamilton adjusted his position in the stiff wooden chair. He was sitting in the waiting room of Premiere Primary Care and, having been there for the last twenty minutes, found himself growing bored. “Mother, do you think they’ll call you back soon?”
Everly, seated to his left, nodded. “I’m sure they will. They aren’t usually running this far behind schedule.” She ran a hand over her short platinum-dyed curls, tousling them a bit with the tips of her long red nails. She wore a white silk blouse with the sash tied in a huge bow and draped over her left shoulder, a pair of tweed slacks and her favorite designer flats.
My mother always looks like she’s about to step onto the runway whenever she leaves the house. Looking at her, no one can tell how tired she is.
“Chill out, Pierce,” London, Pierce’s twin sister, added from her seat to his right. “We haven’t been here that long. Besides, what’s more important than Mom’s health?” London’s purple jeans, fuchsia top and leopard-print pumps made for an outfit as bold as her personality.
“Nothing,” he groused. “I think I’d be more patient if these chairs weren’t so stiff. It’s like sitting on a flat rock.”
Everly laughed. “You’re not wrong. I’ve complained to the staff plenty of times about these things.”
Pierce chuckled dryly, his eyes scanning the waiting room. His gaze settled on the face of a brown-skinned woman on the opposite side of the room. Mainly because she was staring at him. Openly.
London nudged him. “Pierce, why is that lady eyeballing you?”
He shrugged. “How should I know?”
The woman stood, and he saw that she clutched something in her grasp as she slowly crossed the room. Her long braids, the ends adorned with colorful wooden beads, were reminiscent of ’80s R & B singer Patrice Rushen. When she came to a stop a few feet away from him, still staring, she asked with slight hesitation in her voice, “Are you Pierce Hamilton?”
He nodded. “That’s me. Do I know you from somewhere, Miss...?”
“Deja. My name is Deja.” She unfurled the thing in her hand and turned it around so he could see. “I saw you in this article I was just reading in Opulence Magazine.”
He glanced at the image, from an article on the South’s most eligible Black businessmen. “Oh. Wow. Yeah, that’s me. I’d forgotten about that article. It’s a couple of years old now.”
“I mean, you look the same.” Deja grinned. “I think you’re even wearing the same suit.”
London stifled a laugh.
Ignoring his sister, he glanced down at his royal blue private label suit, which he’d had custom-tailored for his frame. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“I don’t want to be too bold, but...” Deja bit her lip. “Are you still single?”
A nurse emerged from the rear of the clinic then and called out, “Everly Hamilton?”
Pierce cleared his throat, offering a kind smile. “I’m flattered, but I’m afraid I need to attend to my mother right now. If you’ll excuse me.”
Deja deflated a bit but nodded and returned to her seat. Pierce and London followed the nurse escorting their mother toward the clinic’s intake room.
Soon, the three of them entered a small exam room. After helping their mother up onto the table, Pierce and his sister sat in the room’s two empty chairs.
At least these have a little more padding. He’d barely settled into his seat when Everly said, “Son, if you turn away every potential date, I’ll never get grandbabies.”
He wanted to roll his eyes but knew his mother wouldn’t go for that. “Wow, you held that in for a whole five minutes, Mother.”
Everly frowned, her brow furrowed. “Watch your tone, young man. I was merely making an observation.”
Pierce glanced at London, who gave a brief shake of her head as indication that she had no desire to join the conversation.
“I just want you to be happy, son,” Everly insisted. “I want both of you to experience the kind of love I shared with your father.” Tears welled in her eyes, as they often did when she spoke of her late husband, Phillip.
Pierce felt his chest tighten.
The door to the exam room swung open, and a deep voice said, “Mrs. Hamilton, my favorite patient.”
Pierce watched as his mother dashed away a fallen tear and plastered on a bright smile. “Dr. Richardson, you sly old fox. How are you?”
Darnell Richardson, MD, the tall, slender Black man who’d been Everly’s primary physician for the past five years, grinned as he took a seat on his wheeled stool. “I’m well. But I am concerned about your test results from your visit last month.”
Pierce leaned forward in his chair. “What’s going on with Mother’s health?”
Dr. Richardson’s previously sunny expression sobered. “I’m not terribly pleased with your A1C, or your cholesterol, but those should level off with some diet changes.” He turned his gaze to his patient. “What really concerns me, though, was your response to the stress test I gave you. Your heart is weakening, Everly.”
Laying a hand over her chest, she asked, “What do I have to do? Do I need a new prescription or some such?”
Dr. Richardson shook his head. “I’d rather not add another drug to your regimen if I can help it. Your blood pressure is up. It’s a slight change for now, but I think we can stop it from becoming more serious.”
London appeared confused. “If you don’t want to do that with meds, what are you suggesting?”
“Everly, you need to reduce your stress level. Greatly.” Dr. Richardson glanced at the papers attached to his metal clipboard. “Your body simply cannot sustain the levels you have now.”
In the ensuing silence, Pierce thought about what the doctor had said. Mother does way too much at Hamilton House—I’ve told her that a thousand times. I wonder if hearing it from the doctor will make any difference.
Frowning, Everly offered a curt nod. “I’ll see what I can do, Dr. Richardson. I’ll admit to having a lot of irons in the fire. Maybe I can take a few out.”
Offering a nod and a smile, Dr. Richardson said, “That’s all I ask.”
Pierce sat quietly as the doctor went over Everly’s current medications and dosages with her, as well as offering advice for changes she should make to her diet.
He tried to keep his expression flat, but inside, he wondered if his mother would actually follow the doctor’s orders. She was known to be stubborn and set in her ways. At least London and I are both in the room to hear what Dr. Richardson is asking for firsthand. Maybe between the two of us, we can lean on her enough to get some follow-through.
Later, as he held the front door open at his childhood home for his mother to enter, he asked, “What do you think about Dr. Richardson’s suggestions, Mother?”
Easing into her favorite pink chintz Queen Anne chair, Everly groused, “Come now, Pierce. I already heard the lecture twice. From the doctor, and from your sister before she left. I don’t need to hear it from you, too.”
“I’m not lecturing. I’m just trying to see how you feel.”
“Old. Tired,” she sighed. “I know I’m no spring chicken, but there’s still plenty of life left in me.”
“Of course, there is.” He walked over to where his mother sat and took her hand in his. “London and I want to see you enjoy yourself, instead of spending all your time working and worrying over things at the office.”
“Hamilton House is your father’s legacy. I won’t see his vision squandered or carried out in the wrong fashion.”
He nodded, knowing the conversation was essentially over. There was no convincing his mother to change her attitude about work, at least not now.
If I can show her I’m ready to take the lead, maybe we can finally get her to rest.
