The Game Never Ends. Zaire Crown

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the past month Marcus had been wanting her more than ever, and he still earned a standing ovation from that ass whenever he hit it from the back. Still, Tuesday didn’t enjoy it as much because she sensed he was only using her as a distraction from some problem he was secretly dealing with.

      Tuesday’s repeated inquiries were met by casual dismissals. A few times he offered simple explanations that she knew were only to shut her up.

      Although Marcus was being distant, Tuesday knew that it didn’t justify her creeping with Shaun. Marcus had done so much so for her that she felt he could ignore her for a year and it didn’t warrant her sneaking behind his back. This was selfish and potentially dangerous considering what happened to the last woman who cheated on him.

      Her husband did so well at disguising himself as Marcus King, respectable entrepreneur and philanthropist, that Tuesday sometimes forgot about his alter ego, Sebastian Caine: ruthless drug lord. An ex-fiancée had done him dirty in the past and gotten her head chopped off because of it. Tuesday didn’t think Marcus was that person anymore but knew betrayal could bring the worst out in people.

      Many women who went both ways often used the saying “eatin’ ain’t cheatin’” but Tuesday didn’t subscribe to this. She knew if she caught Marcus with a young side-piece, Tuesday would kill that bitch even if she was only sucking his dick.

      But she never had to worry about this because Marcus was fiercely loyal. She knew how rare that was in a man and it made her feel even worse.

      A flawless fourteen-carat cushion-cut diamond dominated her left hand. She glanced at it, feeling unworthy of the ring or the man who gave it to her.

      After a little more self-loathing, Tuesday finally let up the gull-wing door on her AMG and entered the house. They had twenty-two thousand square feet under one roof: eight bedrooms, fourteen baths, two elevators, two indoor pools, a gym with a sauna and a home theater. Carrera marble ran throughout the first floor, and the grand staircase in the foyer was adorned with custom brass balustrades designed by Versace. From the ceiling, twenty-five feet above, hung decadent chandeliers made in Paris by some designer with a name Tuesday still couldn’t pronounce.

      There was a time when Tuesday had been intimidated by the big white house, but it quickly became as comfortable as an old slipper.

      All the staff had already gone for the day so the house was quiet and still.

      Tuesday had been gone since breakfast and had eaten nothing the entire day—except for Shaun. They had two kitchens, a gourmet kitchen plus an executive chef’s commercial kitchen, which they only used to cater formal gatherings. The first was the smaller of the two and where Tuesday immediately went for a snack.

      The granite countertops were spotless and the stainless steel appliances shone like polished chrome. Dinner was typically prepared by their personal chef and Tuesday figured that the family already ate without her. She found a veggie lasagna in the refrigerator and reheated a slice. For dessert she stole four of the walnut chocolate chip cookies their housekeeper Esperanza baked especially for Marcus. Tuesday was at the center cook island nibbling on one with a glass of milk when Brandon entered the kitchen.

      To the world, Brandon King was Marcus’s father and the face of their legitimate empire. In truth, he and Marcus were not even related—a secret known to no one outside the three of them. Brandon had played the right-hand and enforcer to her husband back when he was known as Sebastian Caine. People would look at this handsome elderly gentleman with his tailored pinstriped suits, salt-and-pepper curls, and friendly smile, thinking he belonged on the cover of GQ magazine. They would never suspect that he had once been one of the most notorious hit men in the country.

      He perched himself on the stool next to hers. “We missed you today.”

      “Sorry, I had an appointment that ran long.” Tuesday was staring straight ahead trying to avoid the judgment in his eyes. “When I knew I wouldn’t make it, I sent you a text and told my secretary to take notes. I’ll look ’em over tomorrow.”

      The appointment she was referring to was at the salon. Tuesday just wasn’t in the mood to deal with work this day. While the rest of Abel Incorporated’s senior staff was taking care of business, Tuesday was out with her girlfriend getting their hair and nails done.

      His tone was sympathetic: “Hey look, I get it. Boring ass three-hour meeting and you decided to play hooky. Who wants to listen to stuffed suits go on and on about Pakistan’s changing export regulations and how they’ll affect our market share? Shit, I wish I could skip ’em too. But as the chief executive officer, and one of the Kings to boot, that’s not a good look for the company or the fam.”

      Guilt slumped her shoulders; she offered a nod. She knew that what she did at Abel reflected back on Marcus and Brandon, which was why fucking with Shaun was doubly stupid. The two of them had worked extremely hard to conceal their pasts and build the Kings’ reputation. They were proud of the name even though neither of them were born with it.

      Tuesday swallowed more milk. “Why is he doing this? He knows I don’t have the slightest fuckin’ idea of what I’m doin.’ Most of the time I’m just sittin’ in my office, looking stupid and signing shit I barely understand.”

      “It was his decision,” Brandon said, breaking himself off a piece of her cookie. “It’s not like he listens to me. Just made me pour another hundred million into the scholarship program. I told him it would kill our third quarter profits but I’m just the puppet; we both know who pulls the strings.”

      Being in charge was something Tuesday never wanted. When she first came to California, Marcus hadn’t just set Tuesday up with a new identity; he gave her a job in his company. It was an advisory position that basically allowed her to collect a six-figure salary with no actual responsibility. In fact, Tuesday never had to even show up at the office.

      Then after years of allowing Brandon to run the company while Marcus played the background, he stepped in and made Brandon hand the reins over to Tuesday and demoted Brandon to executive vice president. The old man didn’t think it was wise and Tuesday was in full agreement but for some reason Marcus had insisted.

      She said: “The only business I ever ran was a booty club and it did so bad I still had to rob niggas on the side. Why in the hell does he think I can handle running a big ass corporation?”

      “Do you remember the very first conversation you and I had? It was when I picked you up from that police station just as he was going on the run.”

      Tuesday remembered. It was three years ago, her last night in Detroit. The feds had held her for an entire day sweating her about Marcus but she gave up nothing. When she saw the suave assassin pull up in that Maybach, Tuesday had first thought Brandon was there to kill her.

      “One of the first things I told you about my boss is to never try to figure him out,” he reminded her. “You’ll never be able to do it and you’ll only drive yourself crazy in the process.” Brandon playfully nudged her with his shoulder and Tuesday smiled because he was right.

      “He been actin’ weird lately,” she said, serious again. “It’s something he ain’t tellin’ us.”

      “Of course there’s something he’s not telling us,” the elder said laughing. “Did you forget who he is?”

      Tuesday understood that her husband was better than most at keeping secrets. He had survived the game at the highest level for over two decades by being clandestine. Sebastian Caine had done business only through intermediaries; buyers and suppliers never got СКАЧАТЬ