Devoted - The Complete Series: A BWWM Romance Boxset Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

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  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Copyright

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Copyright

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Bradley

  Brianna

  Epilouge

  Learn How it All Began

  Run This Town

  About Sadie

  DEVOTED

  Part One of Three

  A BWWM Interracial Romance Serial

  First edition. June 17, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Sadie Black.

  Written by Sadie Black.

  The right of Sadie Black to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This book was published by Sadie Black. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author.

  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All characters represented within are eighteen years of age or older and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work is property of Sadie Black, please do not reproduce illegally.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Thank you for supporting the hard work of Indie authors.

  Please note that this is a work of adult fiction and contains graphic descriptions of sexual activity, graphic language, and violence. It is intended for mature readers aged 18 over only. All characters depicted as engaging in sexual activity in this work of fiction are consenting adults, eighteen years of age or older. Blood relatives never engage in sexual activity of any kind.

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  Chapter One:

  Brianna

  “Couldn’t you find something more appropriate to wear? You’re in God’s house, young lady,” Pastor Henry, or Dad as I call him, hisses at me as we set up for the dress rehearsal.

  Looking down over my outfit, I think I did pretty well actually. My violet V-neck blouse isn’t too low-cut, and my black skirt is a bit on the tight side but goes down to my knee. Ok, so maybe the shoes are a bit much, 5-inch heels do feel strange to wear in a church, but they’re just so cute I had to. Anyway, what does he care? I’m a grown woman, not a child.

  Arguing with him won’t get me anywhere. Instead, I stare at the runner on the floor and count the seconds until this wedding is finally over so I can go back to seeing my father only twice a year. Christmas and Easter.

  “Ok, so does everyone know where they need to stand? Where’s my groom?” Dad looks around the empty church for Matthew. My father’s gaze stops as he spots him over by a massive stained glass window. The husband and wife-to-be are oblivious to the world around them as Matthew murmurs in Kendra’s ear and tenderly touches her cheek.

  “Matthew! There’ll be plenty of time for all of that after the run-through. Stand over here, my boy.” He points to the floor in front of him, “Come keep me company up here.” His focus changes to the entire crowd as Matthew makes his way over, “Alright, let’s do the dry run. The sooner we do this right, the sooner everyone can go home.”

  People scurry to follow my father’s direction. Everyone does. There’s something about him that makes people move when he tells them to. Making my way to the back of the church, I’m thankful to have a few minutes away from his overbearing presence. Since I was a kid, I’ve been watching Dad give sermons and guidance to entire congregations of people who have hung on his every word.

  Now, whenever I hear him speak about God’s love and forgiveness I just think about how much of a hypocrite he is. Even though it has been more than eleven years since I lived under his roof, memories of how he kicked me out at seventeen have never faded with the passage of time.

  “Henry! We can’t kick her out onto the streets!” I remember how Mama sobbed while I stood there defiantly staring at Dad.

  “She isn’t staying here, Evelyn, and that’s final!” His voice made the picture frames shake.

  Sure enough, she spent the entire night calling her sisters and brothers until Auntie Ruth agreed to take me in. The way she tirelessly fought to find me a safe place to stay, I knew that Mama didn’t want to see me leave. Too bad she never used any of that energy to fight for what was right with my father. In our house, he laid down the law and we obeyed, Mama was no exception.

  My father casting me aside hurt, but it wasn’t a deep cut. By seventeen, I’d long known that we would never see eye-to-eye. However, when Mama watched me pack my things, it turned all of my sadness into rage. I’ll never understand how any mother can sit in silence and watch their child be cast away, yet that’s exactly what she did.

  Refusing to utter a word to either of them, I packed my bags and waited on the front porch for the station wagon with the wood panel veneer down the side to come pick me up. Mama never gave me a hug goodbye. My father refused to look at me. I just slipped into the car and didn’t even watch as their house grew smaller in the passenger seat mirror. I didn’t look back then, and I’m not going to waste my time looking back now.

  Giving my head a shake, I focus on the cute blond man with gray eyes holding his arm out to me so we can walk down the aisle. You can clearly tell who is here for Matthew and who is here for Kendra. All of Matthew’s groomsmen are dressed like the wedding is today. In their designer suits and shiny, square-toed shoes, you’d think that they were heading to walk down the runway at fashion week and took a wrong turn.

  Kendra’s bridesmaids, each of her brother’s wives, look like they just got off a long shift at Walmart with their discount jeans and bargain bin tops. The one notable exception on her side of the aisle is Tina, but her couture dress and perfect nails can be attributed to the fact that she’s Matthew’s sister. That family must have had an angel smiling over their births because they’re both stunning.

  Walking down the aisle, I avoid my father’s disapproving stare and instead focus on the speech I have to give in a few nights. As Kendra’s maid of honor, I have to sum her up in a sweet, funny and touching way. The truth is, I still have no idea what to say. Not because she isn’t sweet and funny, but because writing this speech feels like I’m writing the final chapter on our friendship that I’m just not ready to say goodbye to yet.

  Taking my place on the left side of the altar, I watch as the bridesmaids make their way down the aisle. I need a cigarette. Please don’t let Dad blather on and on tonight. Sometimes I think the real reason that man joined the church is because he loves the sound of his voice filling a room. Having people stuck in their seats, unable to get away from him was just a bon
us. I know that’s not true, my father’s passionate sermons pop into my head. Back when I was still in his good graces, I used to watch him practice them in a full-length mirror. Back then, I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. Now that I have, we couldn’t be further apart. Glancing over at him, I’m relieved to see that his focus is on Kendra making her way down the aisle instead of my apparently scandalous clothes. It always feels better when we just do what we both do best: ignore each other.

  When Kendra asked me if I’d mind my father marrying her and Matthew, I was stunned. I know her family was in my Dad’s congregation, and she grew up with his weekly sermons, but she also knows better than anyone how much bad blood is between us. I mean, Kendra was always my impossibly perfect friend, so I never did tell her why he kicked me out, but it didn’t raise any questions with her. Just goes to show how much he and I were always fighting even before he turned his back on me in my darkest hour.

  The night he found out I was pregnant.

  Chapter Two:

  Bradley

  “Rachel? Send Dwight in here, please.”

  “Right away, Mr. Sheppard.” She speedily walks from her desk to the large waiting room just around the corner while I lean against my office wall.

  That’s more like it. When I took over as CEO from Matthew Blackwell, I made the clumsy mistake of not switching over the staff that worked with him for years. It didn’t take long to hear grumblings about every change I wanted to make around here. The worst offender, by a mile, was his secretary for years, Stephanie. The way she would wring her hands in dismay every time I did something like change the blinds to a new color or switch out the modern art on the office walls for more peaceful landscapes, well, you would think that I was dragging Zervion Communications down into a pit of anarchy. If I heard her say “but that’s not how Mr. Blackwell did it!” one more time, I was going to snap. As it was, I spent more than a few minutes considering showing her the door with a pink slip in hand and asking if she thought that I was firing her the way Mr. Blackwell would do it. However, I realized that I was letting the stress of my home life overshadow my professionalism and instead opted for a major shuffle. That way Stephanie got to work for my executive senior systems manager and I got an assistant who actually assists me without constant questioning.

  After that, I’d say that most of the growing pains that come with a company takeover passed. Any remaining employees who were still loyal to Blackwell’s vision for Zervion over mine learned to keep it to themselves. Unfortunately, things at home haven’t smoothed out quite so easily.

  The click of Rachel’s heels, like a tap dancer breaking in his new shoes, interrupt my thoughts.

  “Mr. Sheppard, Mr. Noble, can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?” Rachel asks as I give my lawyer’s hand a shake.

  “No, I believe we’re both fine,” I answer for the two of us, sweeping my hand toward the seat in front of my desk. Dwight strides across my floor with his chest puffed out like he’s about to cross-examine a witness. I’d bet a thousand bucks that he’s practiced that swagger for court so much that it’s become his real walk.

  How long does it take before we’re all just the polished, practiced versions of ourselves? How many years on the force before the police officer expects compliance from his children like he does from a perp on the street? How long before the lawyer treats every conversation with his wife like it’s being presented to a jury, or an accountant figures out the financial risk assessment of holiday cheer? How long before we become less of who we are and more of what we do for money? And where does that leave me?

  I shake my head back into the moment and brush my door shut with the tips of my fingers before making my own practiced strut to the imposing leather chair behind my desk.

  “Bradley! What can I do for you? Please tell me you’ve got something solid on Eileen so we can take this thing to court,” Dwight Noble barks at me like we aren’t sitting five feet from each other.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Dwight—”

  “Good, good! Whaddya got?”

  “Nothing. The private investigator hasn’t turned up anything we didn’t already know. The drinking, the men, she keeps all of that stuff away from Brooklyn. I mean, damn it, she isn’t going to win any awards on mothering, but you already said it isn’t enough for me to get full custody on either, right?”

  “No, I don’t think it is Bradley.” He tents his fingers together and furrows his brow, “These custody cases still side with the mother about 70-80% of the time. And no judge in their right mind is going to award you full guardianship of Brooklyn just because of some boozy nights and flings. You need something rock solid.”

  “Well, I don’t have time for that!” My hand squeezes around the arm of my chair until my knuckles turn purple. “In the meantime, Eileen is tumbling down a rabbit hole and I can’t wait until she hits rock bottom before we do something about it. You need to take this to court, even if I get partial custody it’s gotta be better than this shit.”

  “Bradley, look, I understand that you’re frustrated. I’ve yet to see a child custody battle that isn’t frustrating, but if you take this to court right now, I’m telling you, it will be a mistake. Patience is going to pay off in this game. It always does.” He reassures me. Not that a word out of his expensive mouth is very reassuring.

  “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Sit here and hope that Eileen doesn’t do something drastic? Just hope that between her moods and her drinking that she doesn’t kill Brooklyn? I’m not paying you to sit around and wait; I’m paying you to build us a solid case and win it. There’s got to be something else we can do besides wait for the bottom to fall out!”

  “There is,” Dwight is so calm it pisses me off even more. Of course he doesn’t see how urgent this is. To him, I’m just another client paying for his Manhattan office. He gets his retainer whether I win this or don’t. “You need to play the long game, Bradley. The courts aren’t going to like that you don’t live in the same state.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do about it? The head office is here.”

  “Yes, but does it have to be? Now hear me out,” he holds his hand up and I clamp my jaw. “I’m not saying to make a multi-million dollar move outta town, but maybe you could set up a satellite office in Florida that you work out of? At least half the time? Then maybe you could just come to New York for handshakes and paper signings on your meetings. It would look much better to a judge to have a residence in the same city as Brooklyn.”

  Move from New York? I’d never really given it any thought. Although, Lord knows that I spend enough time flying back and forth to put out fires with Eileen that I might as well set up camp there.

  How many hours have I spent on those flights? Enough that every stewardess on the Eastern seaboard route knows me by name. More than a few of them have had some practice calling it out while I’ve slid my cock into them. I don’t spend my time prowling around the city for women, or using my money to have them delivered to me like some kind of pizza. But, I’m not a saint. Those short skirts and flirty smiles have been just the distraction I’ve needed from time to time. “Fine, I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Great,” Dwight perks up. “While you’re thinking about that you might want to give some consideration to finding yourself a stable, nice woman to spend more of your time with. I’m not saying you need to be married, yet, but it would build you a more solid case against Eileen if you had more family appeal. You know, someone to tend to the roost while you’re working.”

  “I can afford twenty-four-hour care, Dwight. A relationship is not what I need to have stability. I need you to do your job and build this case.” Who the hell does he think he is to tell me how to live my life? Move your office, find a woman, any other hoops to jump through for you?

  The truth is, I’m sick of occasional one night stands with women who mean so little that I can’t remember their names. It amazes me how many of them giggle or thi
nk it’s cute when I call them ‘sugar’ or ‘honey’. Maybe they don’t care about the pretense anymore than me. I doubt they think I’m taking them to a hotel to lay the foundation of our promising future together. Not that I don’t want that.

  Settling down with the right woman is something I’ve been thinking about more and more these days. However, it’s difficult to get a new relationship off the ground with this sort of drama going on in the background. Sure, I can find a woman who doesn’t care, for the right price. But I’m old enough that I want a woman who wants a future with me, not my bank account.

  My eyes are strained, and my collar feels like it’s restricting my airway. Suddenly, my sprawling office, the one that was supposed to be a symbol of my financial success, the one that was supposed to represent my hard work and career aspirations, is swallowing me. Despite the new landscape paintings and office chairs, this still feels like Matthew Blackwell’s office, and I am becoming a prisoner within it’s walls. “All right, Dwight. I’ll mull it all over and get back to you on how I wish to proceed.”

  “I’m just telling you how to make yourself a stronger profile in the case, you can take my advice or leave it. Just remember that when this goes to court it will be you against Brooklyn’s mother. To take a child away from their mom, out of state, to live with a twenty-four/seven Nanny isn’t a strong case. No matter how much money you earn. However, to take on custody in the same city, with a stable family life of your own for her to become a part of, well I don’t need to tell you that the latter will give you a fighting chance.” Dwight gives me his closing arguments. He stands up and gives my hand a shake before puffing back out and peacocking his way out of my office.