Page 7 of Into the Blue

His hold on my waist tightens a fraction as his eyes sharpen further on me. “Well, why don’t you try me and see what’s up?”

Surely, the King of Green is notthiseasy.

I know I said men are easy, but my expectations for what I was going to be up against are extremely flawed.

If my mother taught me anything, it’s to tell them nothing. The most important rule is always to have the upper hand.And knowledge is power.Especially when it’s knowledge of the competition.

When Terrell Lafayette Sr. fell for my mother, he left her high and dry when he found out she was pregnant. She was never the vengeful type. She was the “fuck you” and “do better without you” type of woman.

And she did do better. She went back home to Georgia and raised me with all the strength of a hammer. Pretty, smart and resourceful—like any good girl should be. Straight A’s and an MBA to boot. From an online college but a degree is a degree. Like I said, knowledge is power.

She would likely still be the powerhouse she once was if she were still here.

But I want what Faye Sr. denied me.

An empire.

I could be running the business that should rightfully be mine right now. Instead, he gave everything to Terrell Jr, his sorry excuse for a son, who blew their biggest accomplishment all over hard drugs and greed.

Nothing is more important than the money.

But Faye Jr. doesn’t know that. He’s never had to earn and that’s why he will be the downfall of the Fayes in Louisiana.

Unless I step in.

Blue Dupont is key to having the upper hand so I can take over my family’s business. As the oldest, I should have first right to the succession of power. Dear old dad, never acknowledged me or my mother, so I’ll get what’s mine another way if I have to.

I’m going to come down on these families like the tool I was honed to be.

Untying the skinny straps from behind my head the two small triangles drop from my body. The man in front of me watches the glittering fabric fall and he catches his full lower lip between his teeth again.

His thumb slides up and over a nipple. They become hard and sensitive under his attention. His other hand is still holding me firmly, radiating heat through my middle and down to my core.

My head falls back and I moan when he fully grips my breast.

“Look right here. Don’t look away,” he says with gravel in his voice.

Shit, that’s sexy.

My eyes meet his and the intensity of his attention hits me twofold. The presence of this man is a force within itself. It seems to expand from his body and take up all the space in the room. But it’s also in his voice. I know he can control how much force there is behind his words. The ones he just said had so much weight behind themeven I obeyed.

And obeying any man is about as low on my list of priorities as licking the concrete on Bourbon street.

It’s then that I snap back to my task and make myself remember there are actually things we need to discuss before this goes any further.

“R-rules,” I stutter out. Cursing myself internally—I have to get my shit together.Another extremely unlikely thing for me to do.I’m confident in my speech and have spent years perfecting my conviction to stand tall in a room of competitors. This man is absolutely my competition.This is a job. “You have to respect the rules in this room.”

There, sounds more like me.

“Really?” He nods slowly, still keeping his gaze locked with mine. “Tell me then. Never been in one of these before.”

He’s never had a private room?That surprises me.

He probably doesn’t need one. With the way he looks and the reputation he carries, I’m sure he has no issues finding a woman to warm his bed.

Warm his bed?Ugh, what am I? Geriatric?

I’m skeptical, but I lay out all the rules for him anyway. “No kissing on the lips. Consent is always verbal. Condoms, every time. No government names or identities. And finally, no recording.”