Alpha Bait_BWWM Billionaire Romance Novel Read online

  Alpha Bait

  BWWM Billionaire Romance

  Jamila Jasper

  Jamila Jasper Romance

  Contents

  1. Before

  2. Kendrick’s Funeral

  3. Champagne in the Hamptons

  4. Strangers

  5. Unmasked

  6. Arrangement

  7. Feels Wrong

  8. Gallery

  9. Runaway

  10. Swift Departure

  11. Killer

  12. Death Toll

  13. Manslaughter

  14. The Talk

  15. Hard

  16. Disturbed

  17. The Brother

  18. Jamal’s Chapter

  19. Late Night News

  20. Ciao, Sicily

  21. U-Turn

  22. Winnetka

  23. Bed-Stuy

  24. Hospitals

  More Jamila Jasper Romance

  Afterword

  Patreon

  Social Media

  Acknowledgments

  Before

  RICHARD CARMICHAEL

  Smoke drifted from the tip of my father's Cuban. Sunken eyes, a murky bottle green, were narrowed in my direction. He'd use his last moments on earth fighting for the Carmichaels; I knew that much.

  "Don't you think it's time we put this petty dispute to an end?" Ames suggested.

  My father shot him a glare sharper than a fencing saber.

  "Quiet, boy."

  Ames fell silent and took a step back from our father's worn leather chair. He folded his arms, standing in line with me.

  I leaned over and whispered to him, "So you're learning not to get in the middle of their spats."

  "He's more stubborn than an ox."

  "Kendrick is no saint.”

  Kendrick leaned over and rested curled fists on the table. His cognac colored skin, the texture of full-grain leather, was just as withered as my father's and his eyes just as sunken. Two old friends turned rivals with the same fatal diagnosis sat across from each other and neither of them would budge.

  "If you won't give up the technology that I invented, Richard, I'll have to do everything in my power to ensure no one in your entire bloodline has a good night's sleep after I'm gone."

  Kendrick threatened him in a low, bass voice with the grave smoothness of a jazz singer. He never raised his voice but his eyes burned charcoal black.

  "You might have invented the technology Kendrick, but I built the structure of this business."

  "A structure that is sure to crumble once you're gone," Kendrick replied with a smirk.

  My father scowled.

  "The last quarter is no indication of how well the Carmichaels run a business."

  "We'll see about that. You're on your way out, old man. Once you're gone those spoiled bastard children of yours will run your business into the ground."

  "Father," Jamal interjected, resting a hand on his father's shoulder and glancing over at me and Ames apologetically.

  Jamal, Kendrick Holloway's eldest son, had his mother's skin color and wit with his father's ruthlessness for business. He'd been groomed to take over his father's company from the time he was a young boy. I knew Jamal like a brother but needless to say we'd drifted apart through the years as our fathers’ disputes over technology and patents grew more intense.

  The boy I'd grown up going to Chewonki summer camps with had taken a different path. I'd gone to St. George's, he'd gone to Exeter. We'd had one year at Princeton together but due to difficulties with the administration, I'd transferred to Yale. Jamal had gone on to do an MBA at Harvard and a law degree at Columbia.

  Kendrick had good right to be proud of his son, but he'd been wrong to underestimate the Carmichael family.

  Father tapped his cigar against the Swarovski crystal tray I'd picked up for him in Milan.

  "What do you want, Kendrick? You didn't come here to spit on a dying man. Surely.”

  "No," he replied, "I'm giving a dying man an opportunity to admit he was wrong before he passes. Admit you stole from me. Admit you used my ideas and built your business on the back of my hard work."

  Father smiled.

  "I will never admit that, Kendrick."

  "Fine then. So be it."

  "I gave you a chance, Richard. When I walk out of this room, just know that no matter what happens, your company will die along with you."

  Kendrick pushed himself to his feet. Jamal held onto his arm as he wheezed and let out a loud shuddering cough. Cancer worked its way through his body with the same virility as it had my father. All the money in the world wouldn’t save either of them from the inevitable fate that neither of them truly believed they'd face: Death.

  They had spent their lives chasing fortune. Millions of dollars had turned into billions. And with that money they'd built walls so high no aspect of reality from the outside world could penetrate. Except for death. Rich and poor were equal under its gaze.

  Kendrick pressed his fists into my father's desk again and leaned over, staring at my father's face as if he were preserving the image.

  "I promise you, Holloway," my father spoke, coughing gently as he set his cigar down, "If one family will be ripped apart from within, it's yours. I know Jamal as well as I know my own sons. Don't forget that."

  "I have nothing more to say to you, old man."

  Kendrick nodded towards the door and Jamal rushed after him, holding the door open for his weakened father. Despite their physical weakness, neither Kendrick nor my father lacked harsh words for each other.

  Jamal led his father to the door. The door clicked shut behind him. Ames and I glared at our father.

  He smirked.

  "That bastard thinks he's a victim. Hmph. I'm the victim."

  Ames folded his arms, "How exactly are you the victim father?"

  "Quiet, boy."

  "Ames has a point."

  "Shut up, Richard," father growled.

  "I'm going after them," I replied.

  "Why?"

  "To talk to Jamal."

  "There's no ending this feud," my father called after me as I raced for the door.

  Before I pulled the handle I turned to him.

  "There's no ending it, unless you admit you're wrong. Everyone in this room knows that's never going to happen."

  I followed Jamal, ignoring my father's groan, which he then directed towards my older brother. Kendrick's handlers had taken him and Jamal waited near the elevator for it to rise to the fifth floor again.

  "Jamal, we need to talk."

  "About what?"

  "Growing up you were like a brother to me."

  Jamal chuckled, "Is that what this is about? You want things to go back to the cozy way they were when we were ten?"

  "That's not what I'm saying."

  "I don't have anything to say to you, Richard. You're just as bad as him."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You're your father's son. You even share the same name."

  "Jamal, I'm trying to be reasonable. We could work something out. We don't need this bad blood."

  Jamal chuckled, "You think I'll trust a Carmichael after what you did to my father?"

  "My father stole something decades ago. I can't be held responsible for that."

  "Then who can?" Jamal spat.

  I raked my hands through my hair, the ash brown color that had nearly changed to a dirty blond from my summer of yachting around Bequia.

  "I will do what it takes to make things right."

  "Stop using the technology."

  I laughed.

  "You can't be serious. That technology is the backbone of Carmichael En
terprises."

  "Exactly. Just like him, as I said."

  "You're being unreasonable, Jamal."

  " Did you ever think about how hard it was for my father to get to where he is today? He killed himself. He worked so hard that he made himself sick."

  "Cancer can't be blamed on anybody."

  Jamal thrust his hands into his pockets and leaned in.

  "I know exactly who to blame."

  "They were business partners, Jamal. They had a misunderstanding. There's no reason for us to carry on the legacy."

  "You Carmichael boys have always had to work half as hard to get twice what we do. When my old man dies, this feud won't die with him. Mark my words."

  "You're making a mistake, Jamal."

  I paused, trying to be more reasonable than he had been.

  "I don't want this to be the way things end between us," I replied, laying my heart on the line for just a moment.

  "Fuck off,. We aren't kids anymore.I'm not going to sit around and be the token black guy in your life so your family can continue to get rich off our ideas."

  The doors to the elevator swung open and he stepped in, turning around to face me with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. So much for resolution. I walked back into the office. Ames sat across from my father, brushing off his navy suit with one hand and balancing a glass of Jim Beam in the other.

  "What did he say?"

  “Nothing Important.”

  "I told you!" My father yelled, overexerting himself and falling into a coughing fit.

  Good. The feud was his fault. I'd lost my friend because of him. And now he would leave us with billions of dollars of blood money, and a family of rivals hell-bent on taking down either of us. Worst of all , Jamal had made a good point: none of the Carmichaels had worked half as hard as the Holloways.

  Ames had made it through Princeton by the skin of his teeth, but neither of us had made it through our MBA programs. We'd been born with the expectation to spend money, not earn it, and father had taken care of our educations but he'd never expected to leave his company in the hands of his sons. He'd reminded us of that every damn day of our lives.

  "Whiskey should help a cough," I offered sardonically.

  Richard II took the bait and poured himself a full glass.

  Ames loosened his tie.

  "Where's Selena? Wasn't she supposed to be here?"

  "Delayed flight."

  "Shit."

  "Kendrick's daughter should have come too."

  "Kendrick has a daughter?" I asked.

  Ames nodded, "You don't know her."

  "Is she hot?"

  My father chuckled. "Yes, she is."

  "Dad!" Ames chided, "That's disgusting."

  "I'm on my deathbed," he croaked, "I have to be honest."

  I snorted, considering the crock of bullshit he'd fed Kendrick only moments earlier.

  "You don't want anything to do with her," Ames replied, "Trust me."

  " I get the feeling there's a story there."

  "Perhaps Ames has tested the forbidden fruit," said my father.

  "Dad, fuck off!" Ames replied.

  I loosened my tie and walked over to my father's cigar box for a smoke.

  "You know, you should stay away from these things. They'll give you cancer."

  "You should know."

  I clipped the end of the cigar and Ames walked over to me, giving me a light. I puffed and allowed the bitter Nicaraguan tobacco to burn my lungs. I took a harsh drag and closed my eyes, enjoying the rush.

  "You've gotten us into a mess, you know."

  My father tipped more whiskey down his throat.

  "Yes," he replied, "I know. All you have to do is follow your brother, stay loyal, and don't let those damn Holloways get the better of you."

  "Easier said than done."

  "No one ever said being a Carmichael would be easy."

  We smoked and drank until Selena called to tell us her driver had taken her over to the mansion. At that point, the doctors informed us that our father had four to six weeks left. Selena and the rest of the Carmichael cousins involved in the business had traveled to our mansion to pay respects to the patriarch before his passing.

  We returned home and the family rabble roused until the morning. Cocktail shrimp, games of croquet, shooting pheasants on family land, horseback riding and copious amounts of tennis filled our days for the last six weeks of our father's life. Richard Carmichael, II died on January 3rd.

  On January 10th, Kendrick passed, outliving him by exactly a week.

  An invitation to his funeral turned up in the mail, signed by his wife, Gail Holloway. The invitations came printed on thick black card paper and embossed in gold leaf. I suspected an outreach from Gail in an attempt to end the family feud. Right.

  Jamal would never allow that to happen. Still, the invitation sat on my father's desk, which had now become Ames'. My brother decided to RSVP so we could pay our last respects to father's rival.

  Kendrick’s Funeral

  INDIE HOLLOWAY

  "You need a veil for that dress," Jamal said when I walked into the foyer.

  I rolled my eyes.

  "What, so now you're telling me what to wear?"

  "There are going to be cameras, Indie."

  "Right."

  "You and I both know you won't cry, so put on a damn veil so you can at least pretend to be sad about our father's passing."

  "I am sad."

  Jamal stared at me in disbelief.

  "You aren't and neither am I. We barely knew the man. He loved his company more than he ever loved either of us."

  "Our company," I corrected him. "It's our company now."

  "And mother's."

  "And Donnie's," I added.

  "Right," Jamal sighed, “Put on a damn veil and get your assistant to go downstairs and make sure everything looks good."

  "It's weird, isn't it? He's lying there... dead."

  "It's not weird. It happens to all of us. Now move."

  Geez. Jamal had grown testy since father's passing and the more pressures that piled onto his plate, the more difficult dealing with him became. My older brother had the responsibility of becoming Holloway Inc.'s CEO and I'd stepped in as the Vice President of the company. Most of the responsibilities that came after our father's passing fell squarely on Jamal's shoulders, something he was entirely bitter about.

  I slung a veil over a black hat to cover my face and I clicked my heels across the marble floor until I came to my assistant.

  My assistant, Betty, had a terrified expression on her face when she saw me.

  "What's wrong?" I precluded her tale of woe with a question.

  "I have bad news."

  "Spill."

  "The Carmichael's are here."

  "What?!"

  "Richard, Ames, Selena and three more cousins."

  "Shit!"

  "I don't know how they got on the guest list!" Betty stammered.

  "SHIT!"

  "Hey! Language!" My mother's voice snapped around the corner as she came around in a floor-length black gown.

  "Did you hear what Betty said?"

  "Yes. The Carmichael's are here. I invited them."

  "You did what?!"

  "You heard me, child. Now close your mouth and head downstairs. We have guests."

  No matter how old you are, there's just a way you speak to your mama no matter how crazy she's getting.

  "Yes ma'am," I replied, "But before I leave, I need you to tell me what the hell you were thinking."

  Okay fine, I'd lost it. I couldn't figure out what could possess my mother to invite our father's biggest rivals to his funeral.

  "We are going to make peace, child. Kendrick is dead and we are the ones who have to live in his wake."

  "They're the Carmichael's. There's no making peace with them."

  My mother sneered, "You sound just like your father when you say things like that."

  I rolled my eyes.
/>   "You say that when you don't want to admit you're wrong."

  "There's nothing wrong with making peace."

  "Does Jamal know about this?"

  "What's Jamal going to do about it?" Gail folded her arms and popped her hip.

  Mama wasn't afraid to whoop anybody, no matter how old they were. Jamal could get these hands as easily as the next person.

  I sighed in frustration and stormed off to find my brother. He stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the guests milling below. I joined him, leaning on the railing.

  "Jamal, do you know what mama's done?"

  "Yes."

  "Gretchen told you?"

  "Yes."

  He gripped the railing with vengeful force.

  "She's lost her damn mind."

  "She has. But I'll give her a chance to speak. She loved him more than any of us will ever be able to understand."

  He was right about that. My mother's devotion to my father far exceeded his devotion to her. The best he'd done was kept her cared for financially and for her, that seemed to be enough.

  "I don't want to make peace with any Carmichael's," I replied.

  Jamal grinned, "Yeah. You know, Richard tried it with me a couple months ago."

  "Richard?"

  "The younger one."

  I shrugged, "I don't know him."

  "He's a bastard. He's just like his dad, except worse."

  "Ew."

  "He got kicked out of Princeton, kicked out of his MBA... All he does is frolic in the Caribbean on a yacht, collecting checks for doing jack shit."

  "They're lazy."

  Jamal chuckled, "You could say that."

  "They have all the privileges you could ever want and all they do is feed their hedonism. It's sick."

  "Stay away from them."

  "You don't have to tell me!"