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  Things came to a vicious head one afternoon when James Ripley was over for a visit. Several previous appearances had allowed Raven to figure out his routine—he would come to the house, reach for Drew and Janetta, and hug them, yet completely ignore Raven. Presents, clothes, money, and toys abounded for her brother, sister, and even Lorrie; but nothing—at no time—was ever bestowed upon Raven.

  One particular day, Raven’s mother called James out on his actions. “Why are you mistreating your youngest child?”

  “You know that child’s not mine,” he grumbled, popping the lapel of his suit jacket. “So I don’t know why you expect me to have anything to do with her.”

  His gaze flickered over Raven, dismissing her with a single disdainful glance, which was mirrored in the eyes of Drew and Janetta. Six-year-old Raven ran to Anita for comfort. As the stoutly built woman with short-cropped hair bent down and wrapped her arms around the little girl, she looked into James’ eyes and let loose with a few choice words of what she felt about him.

  “Dyke bitch,” he said through clenched teeth as he faced Anita. “What the hell do you have to say about what I do?”

  Anita could hardly contain her temper. An ugly tone entered her voice as she said, “Since you want to be that way, you are not allowed to come to this house anymore. Jaylon will bring your children to you.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “You can’t come here and play favorites.”

  Through his scowl, he managed to give Jaylon a simple ultimatum: “Give me proof that she’s mine and I’ll think it over.”

  “And how do you expect me to do that?” Jaylon said, finally finding her voice. “You want me to count back to the few times you actually came home instead of staying out all night spreading it around like margarine?”

  Anita placed Raven next to her, then shooed the children away. Drew and Janetta scampered to the hallway, yanking a frozen Raven with them.

  Once around the corner, Janetta turned to her and growled, “This is all your fault! Now Daddy can’t even come see us ‘cause of your ugly self.” She shoved Raven. “You ain’t even our sister. Daddy said so!”

  Raven opened her mouth to speak, but wasn’t given the chance.

  “Shut up! I wanna hear what they’re saying,” Janetta scolded.

  “Maybe I had to seek out other women because you were so cold in bed!” James shouted. “And now I know why. You were too busy playing with pussies to enjoy some dick.”

  “Now you know that’s not true,” Jaylon shouted. “I didn’t get with Anita until after you had slept with Emma, Shirley, and Caroline. And those were only the ones I found out about.”

  “What purpose does it serve to have him here?” Anita yelled, coming to stand between the two of them. “All he does is cause problems.” Then a glint of mischief lit in her eyes. “And didn’t you tell me that you’d never had an orgasm with him anyway? So much for dick. Or maybe it was just his…”

  James moved so he was toe-to-toe with Anita. “Don’t you ever say nothing to me or about me. What, you couldn’t cut it with men so you had to become a man?”

  Raven, Janetta, and Drew crept back to the doorway in time to see James shove Anita. The three of them gasped at the same time as Anita went sprawling to the floor. She jumped back up, righted herself, and charged James so hard and fast that he crashed into the wall and slumped to the ground. She landed several solid punches before he got to his feet and aimed one at her face. Anita caught his hand, nearly breaking his arm as she twisted it behind his back, forcing him to the floor.

  “Motherfucker, don’t you ever put your hands on me again! Jaylon might’ve allowed that shit, but I will put a hurting on your ass.” She hefted him away, watching as he wiped the blood from his mouth. Anita looked over at Jaylon. “I’m going to say it one last time. He cannot set foot in this house ever again.”

  “This is still my motherfucking house!” James growled, struggling to get up off the floor. “I still pay the bills.”

  “Only because you refuse to give Jaylon a divorce.” Anita straightened her clothes, bristling at the fact that Jaylon never turned down his money—one of the biggest arguments the two women had. “Still trying to tell Carol you can’t marry her because Jaylon won’t give you a divorce?” She circled him like a tiger getting ready to pounce on its prey.

  He stared at her as though he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard right.

  “Oh, yeah. I know all about your lies.” Anita turned to Jaylon. “You have to choose. If you can’t see how he’s still destroying you and making us pay for being together, then I’ll take Raven with me when I leave. Just like him, you’ve been punishing her for what happened and that’s not fair. He’s not buying all of those toys and things ‘cause he loves the others; he’s buying them to hurt her.” Anita looked at Jaylon for a long moment.

  “You didn’t want her, and I get that. So from this point on, Raven is my child. She doesn’t need him, and she doesn’t need your half-ass mothering either. Any disciplining, I’ll do it. Decisions to be made on her behalf will be mine to make. I’ll relieve you of your motherly duties, since they,” she gestured toward the place where Drew and Janetta were hiding, “are the only ones on the receiving end of that type of love from you. Understand?”

  Jaylon nodded through her tears, a movement so small it was almost missed, but not by Raven, whose heart was crushed. Her own mother didn’t want her. What had she done? Why didn’t her mother love her?

  “I’ll be good, Mommy!” Raven cried out, trying to break free from Janetta’s grasp. “I promise! I promise, Mommy!” Raven screamed. She needed Jaylon. Suppose Anita left again as she had so many times before when she and got mad? Pain overtook all fear, and Raven yanked out of Janetta’s reach and ran to the woman whose honey skin was much like her own. “I love you, Mommy. I promise I’ll be good this time. I’ll be good. Just tell me what to do.”

  Her mother never reached out for her, didn’t even look her way.

  “Raven’s mine now.” Anita glared at James. “That should take all the fun out of it for you, shouldn’t it, asshole?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Not in this lifetime!” Anita reached down and picked up a crying Raven, comforting the little girl as best she could. “None of this is her fault. She didn’t ask for this, and you want her to pay for it all of her life. That’s not going to happen while I’m around.”

  “Okay, okay. You raise Raven. I won’t interfere,” Jaylon whispered and turned to Janetta and Drew who ran to her for an embrace. Raven’s heart shattered in a million pieces as she held onto Anita and closed her eyes against the image of her siblings being so loved by their mother.

  And for a while, the arrangement worked just fine. But after two years, Jaylon was still playing James and Anita against each other. She was able to get love, affection, and mind-blowing sex from Anita, and keep her pockets full and bills paid with James’ money. Whenever Anita would get fed up, she’d try to leave and take Raven, and it was those times when Raven’s welfare took a backseat to Jaylon’s jealousy.

  “If you take her, I’ll call the police and say you kidnapped her. Let’s not forget that she is my biological daughter.”

  “Hooray for a fluke of nature,” Anita shot back. “Just because you squirted her out, doesn’t make you a mother.”

  Raven was the sole reason Anita stayed in that house and in an unhappy relationship for as long as she did. Soon, no sex, no love, nothing could make the woman happy except Raven and Lorrie. And then, even that changed.

  James had never forgotten how Anita had beaten him. He couldn’t best her in a fist fight, so he did the next best thing—he gave Anita’s ex-husband the ammunition needed to hurt her more than any physical blow ever could.

  Lorrie’s father demanded full custody, telling the courts that his ex-wife was involved in deviant sexual behavior in his child’s presence. After several trips to court, it was clear the judge was going to rule against Anita. Her ex laid down an
ultimatum of his own: “I’ll drop the lawsuit and you’ll get to keep our daughter, but I want you to move out of that house with that woman and have nothing to do with her or her children. And to make sure you follow through, you’ll be moving to New York and living with me.”

  As heart-wrenching as the decision was, Anita severed all ties with Raven, leaving the little girl with a mother who refused to show her the love and affection she deserved and craved so desperately; and a father who took pleasure in seeing her cry.

  The world just never seemed fair. So Raven Ripley learned early on that the only two people she could rely on were God and herself. And sometimes even she was a little suspect.

  ❤ ❤ ❤

  Pierce Randall could never be a part of her future. He was too potent, too powerful and evoked a longing that made her feel out-of-control. No man was worth that.

  “Raven, are you still there?”

  She sighed softly, jarred back to reality by a deep, melodic voice that would make any woman melt into the woodwork. “I’m here, Pierce.”

  “Talk to me baby. What’s going on with you? Why can’t you answer that simple question?”

  “There isn’t a simple answer.”

  Pierce let out a long slow breath and said, “I’m fairly intelligent, so complex will work for me, too.”

  Raven’s gaze swept across the pictures of her dysfunctional family on the coffee table. “Pierce, can’t you just forget it. This isn’t—”

  “When can I see you, Raven?”

  She closed her eyes, trying to rein in the swell of emotions overtaking her. What was it about him, exactly? “I’m on tour right now. It’s really hard to manage things when I’m traveling.”

  “Just tell me when and where and I’ll come to you. Let’s try this weekend.”

  “I’ll be in Atlanta, but it’s going to be real tight for time. The group is paying me to come so I’m on their dime and they control my time from can’t see to can’t see.”

  “All day?”

  “Yes, sir,” she quipped. “And part of the night, too.” Disappointment crept in and before she could think she added, “So what about next week? Can you come to Chicago?”

  “I’ll be in Monaco on a video shoot for the next two weeks, then it’s off to Los Angeles to finish up a live album. Damn!”

  Several different emotions battled within her, with a sense of impending loss taking a strong lead.

  “What if I come late on Friday or Saturday,” he asked.

  “I have to go out with the book club members after the signing.”

  “What about midnight, when you’re done?”

  Raven’s fingers froze on the tablet. “I am not a booty call. And I don’t know you well enough for a late night visit, my brother.”

  He muttered something she couldn’t quite make out before asking, “What about breakfast?”

  “Gotta do a brunch, sweetheart. Then I have eighteen book signings and book club appearances over a five day period, three different cities.”

  Pierce was silent for so long she thought he had disconnected the call.

  “With your schedule,” she finally said after a few moments. “How do you manage to get a date?”

  “I haven’t given a woman more than minutes of my time in two years.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “I’m not trying to be on television with my business all in the street,” he whispered in a voice so husky that she had to shift her position on the sofa. “I have a lot to lose. A woman has to be important for me to invest my time. And for the record, you’re not a booty call, I want you for a lot longer than just one night. I want to build something good, something that will last.”

  Raven bit her bottom lip as she tried to come up with a witty comeback—and couldn’t.

  “Raven?”

  “Yes.”

  “Talk to me, baby. What are you feeling right now?”

  She took a long, slow breath, trying to regain some composure after that sweet admission of his. “You’re the closest I’ve come to wanting a man in a long time, but it’s not going to work. Our lives are just too hectic. And I’m not ready for an intimate relationship. I have too much on my plate already.”

  With that said, he whispered. “Close your eyes, let me talk to you for a minute.”

  She did as she was told.

  “I want you to go back to the night that I had you in my arms.” He gave her a few seconds to process and added, “Be honest, baby…what did you feel?”

  “You. Heat. Need.”

  “Heat? Oh, yes, I felt it too, baby,” he whispered. “The smell of your perfume, the feel of your skin against my lips, your breasts ready to spill out into my hands. Lord, woman, I wanted you in the worst way.”

  Raven refused to comment. She would have to admit that she wanted him to do all the wicked things that his voice and his eyes promised that night. And she had a feeling he could back it up. A woman could tell these things—and that’s what normally got them into all kinds of trouble.

  “Imagine that I had parted your lips with my tongue; that I tasted you and baby, it was honey dripping from those lips. Imagine that I laid you out on the chaise and my hands held those sexy hips of yours. That I’m stroking them, touching them, feeling you—soft…warm. Would you like that, baby?”

  A groan escaped her lips, despite every effort to hold it in.

  “Do you feel me, Raven?”

  Eyes closed, thighs open, wetness making a comeback, she could only manage a soft answer of, “I feel you.”

  “My hands parted your thighs and I’m stroking upwards towards that heat. You’re so wet, baby. You’re wet...for me.”

  Raven’s head went back onto the cushions and she was all pleasure and heat as he continued describing sensual things he wanted her to experience in sweet, mind-blowing detail, ending with, “The tip of my finger brushes across your pearl and your hips move toward me. Can I go inside, baby? Can I play with you just for a little while?”

  Raven’s orgasm ripped through her, causing her to disconnect the call.

  Moments later, she ran to the bathroom and gripped the edge of the sink for balance. As she looked at her flushed reflection in the mirror, she swore to never take another call from Pierce Randall.

  Five

  Four weeks later, New York

  “What the hell do you mean, you can’t find her?” Pierce glared angrily at his assistant across the smoke-glass desk.

  “Raven Armand doesn’t exist.” Steve Iken shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “At least, not as a real person with an address and Social Security number.”

  Pierce stalked to the picture window, and let his gaze fall to the ships sailing away from the New York Harbor and the Statue of Liberty’s welcoming torch. “Of course she exists. She’s a flesh and blood woman. I held her, damn near kissed her.” He whirled to confront a solemn-faced Steve. “And you saw her. She exists!”

  Steve stood, rocked back on his heels, one eyebrow raised at Pierce’s uncharacteristic outburst.

  Pierce wouldn’t mention the fact that this was the same women with whom he’d had the wildest phone sex interludes the planet had to offer. Some days he had to shower twice just to get rid of an erection so hard he couldn’t pull his briefs over it. The damn thing could’ve turned corners before the rest of him!

  Today, Pierce was supposed to listen to the CDs Steve had picked out and select the final prospects for new contracts. He’d barely given the demos a glance. CDs from potential artists shipped in every day, all day. The music could wait. Raven Armand could not.

  Pierce tilted his face up to gaze into the bright sun. Its warmth reminded him of the woman he’d held in his arms four weeks, two days, twelve hours, and sixteen minutes ago. New York was brimming with women ready to give up pussy out of both pant legs. So what was it about this woman?

  He continued to survey the city he loved so much. From Soho to Harlem, there was nothing like it. New York was the epicenter of the cult
ural world, from its fine arts, theatre, and as proving ground for the music, fashion, and publishing industries.

  Born and bred in Harlem, Pierce could picture living nowhere else. He had achieved substantial success as the chief operating officer and vice president of Artists & Repertoire at MEG, a far cry from spinning records on the toy record player his father had given him when he was five. Patrick Randall had introduced his only son to the wonders of Motown, the beauty that had been the music of the early ‘50s, ‘60s, and ‘70s. Late night tales of the challenges artists experienced in those days explained how those musicians had laid the groundwork for soul music, rock, R&B and the blues, which later evolved into today’s popular music.

  Patrick had been disheartened when sixteen-year-old Pierce moved to a studio apartment in Queens with Simeon Cahill so they could be closer to the hub of rap and hip-hop bursting onto the scene. The genre was rife with up-and-coming artists. LL Cool J, Salt-N-Pepa, Kurtis Blow, and Run DMC came to find great success after the movie “Krush Groove,” which brought the underground to more mainstream acceptance. Although Harlem had called him back on several occasions since it was also rich in musical and literary underground history, Pierce wanted to be in Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Queens where new music and new sounds flourished. Music was in his blood, and so was the call to become a major force within the music industry, even though many didn’t see a future in it. That doubt had been short-lived as hip-hop and rap steadily made an impact on clothing, television, and movies in pop culture.

  Pierce didn’t return to Harlem until his parents’ sudden deaths brought him back to the brownstone where he’d been raised. The fond memories and quieter vibe of the area soothed him. By all definitions of success, he had made it, but he’d become restless lately, needing something he couldn’t name. Since that night with Raven, he’d been unsettled to the point of distraction. He couldn’t afford to be distracted—not in the music business. Not when he had a partner who started fires all over the country, dripping stupidity like gas from a leaky fuel line.