Page 11 of Don Caselli

Alex was a safe choice.

I didn’t have parents or a rich sibling looking out for me. My father wasn’t even around as often as he should have been before he died. It had always been me having to look out for myself and use what I had to get in places I would have never been invited into.

I built this illusion that men saw whenever they met me. A woman who spoke so highly of herself, has an amazing vocabulary and carried herself with class had to come from wealth. When in reality, I came from the slums, and I had to claw my way out to become this version of myself.

My mother was never this kind of person. She was so far gone when it came to her religion, Jehovah’s Witness, that she pretended she didn’t have a daughter. Pushed me right on out of her life like she never spent hours in labor to bring me into this earth. My father was no better before he passed.

Which shocked me that he even gave a fuck to set me up in case something happened to him. It had always been me, and I was fine with that because being responsible for me was enough.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You would give up on having actual love for security.”

I laughed at Maki because she had no clue. This was all new to her, an entire new world that came with a different set of rules than we were used to. There was no love in money, and I learned that quickly. Women didn’t get married because of love; they got married for security. It had to do with furthering their blood lines, making them stronger, and keeping it pure.

It had nothing to do with falling in love. It was what they were born and raised to do. You didn’t get married to a billionaire because you were in love; you got married because your family and his was a perfect match.

“Yes. I saw what love does to you. It can be beautiful, and it can also be war. Blowing up in your face when you least expect it. I’ve watched my mother crawl back to the very church that kicked her out on her ass. She had to go crawling back to them because even though love was enough for her, it never paid the bills or helped her raise a child. Her story won’t be mine.”

Even with me and my mother being estranged, I refused to crawl back to Case House if things didn’t work out between me and Landon. As much as we were caught up in each other, I knew it could and would end differently than we both imagined. Menace didn’t say things twice, and the fact that he has warned us both that he doesn’t approve meant we couldn’t have what we wanted.

Alex wanted to take care of me and give me the life I didn’t have to lay on my back to achieve or hold my hand out to ask Menace for. This was something that I had to do, and I didn’t expect anyone else to understand.

3

Don Caselli

“Yeah,whatever. I’m here to do my job. Plus, Kobe would beat my ass if I fucked up this contract for him,” I heard a voice chatting, too fucking loud, considering they knew I was sleep. “This was fun for him… he was never going to take me seriously, and I didn’t take him seriously either. A spoiled rich kid without anything to do,” she continued on.

I remained in bed, as I watched her come out of my bathroom with her cleaning basket in one hand, phone cradled between her head and shoulder, while chatting away her frustrations about me.

She bent down to pick up one of the bottles of cleaning solutions that fell, and I licked my lips at her round ass in those biker shorts she wore. Her hair was pulled back with a headscarf, and her back was exposed with a tattoo of some nigga’s name that probably promised her the world. And now she had been relegated to cleaning my penthouse.

“Uh, huh. I cannot wait to go out of town this weekend. Need to find me a nigga and sit down. Not trying to waste any more time…” her voice faded away as she walked into my closet.

Nine times out of ten, she was going to collect the dirty laundry and whatever needed to be sent to the dry cleaner. I slid out of bed and stretched as I walked across my bedroom to the closet.

“It’s whatever, though. I have to find my own way. I cannot keep getting my emotions into shit that I know ain’t for—” I cut her call, and she yelped, turning around as I extended my arms to touch the top shelf of my shoe closet.

She was putting a pair of my workout sneakers away, and looked up slowly, as I was leaned over her. “You being loud because you wanted me to hear you, Grace.” My voice was groggy because I still would have been asleep if she wasn’t talking all damn loud.

“I…I was having a conversation,” she folded her arms, trying to pretend me leaning over her wasn’t bothering her in the least.

I nodded. “Yeah, real fucking loud.”

“Well, I’m sorry. Mr. Caselli, I will make sure that I’m quieter when entering your sleeping quarters,” she spoke with this thick ass New York accent that was mixed with a Spanish twang.

She was Puerto Rican, and you could hear her accent mixed with her New York one peak through each time she tossed on attitude. Turning back around, she slapped my chest with her hair and tried to pretend to fix the shoes that were already fixed.

Looking down at her biker shorts, I slid my hands around the waistband, listening to a moan escape from her lips. For someone who couldn’t be bothered, my touch shouldn’t have caused a response like this one. Pushing my hand further into her shorts, I rubbed her soft round ass, as I bit down on my lips, and she held onto the shelf on the sneaker wall.

Slowly, I pulled her shorts down and then pulled her thong back, letting it go when I heard that snap sound, and her gasp. “You was talking a lot of shit, Grace.”

It was all mumbles now that I was paying her horny ass some attention. The only reason I found myself in this closet was because my dick was hard. When you rotated your starting lineup often, it became a headache to have consistent pussy without any ties.

Grace was an exception, though. She was catching feelings, and I would have to hit up Jeffie and ask her to switch my cleaner. “I…I was angry with you, Don,” she cooed.

“Hmm.” I cupped my hand and slapped her ass, causing her to jump and try to climb up the damn shelf.

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