Page 72 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“There’s no misunderstanding. Christina told you the boundaries of your arrangement, and you tried to force her into more anyway. That’s assault, Clarence. Criminal assault.”
“Now, Naomi, let’s not be hasty. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“We’re filing a police report this afternoon. Your name is being added to every blacklist in the city. And if you ever so much as look at another woman in my employment, I will personally make sure you regret it.”
“You can’t prove anything,” he hissed.
“Idon’t have to prove anything. The police will handle that part. What I can prove is that you will no longer be welcomed to do business with any reputable service in St. Louis. It doesn’t take camera footage for that to happen. All it takes is an accusation of this magnitude and no one will touch you with a ten-foot pole. But you already know that, don’t you?”
I could hear his breathing change, could practically feel his panic through the phone.
“This is a mistake, Naomi. I’m a respected member of this community. I have connections.”
“So do I. And mine won’t appreciate hearing about investment bankers who assault young women.”
“Listen, maybe we got our wires crossed.”
“No, Clarence. You got your wires crossed when you thought money gave you the right to hurt someone under my protection.”
I ended the call before he could respond, my hands shaking as adrenaline and fury rushed through me.
A sound at my office door grabbed my attention and I turned to see Christina watching me with wide eyes. “You really did that.”
“I really did that.”
“I’ve never had anyone fight for me like that.”
“Well, you do now.”
I helped her gather her things with my mind already working through the next steps. A police report, blacklist notifications, and enhanced security protocols for future appointments. Whatever it took to keep this from happening again.
As we left my office, Christina grabbed my arm. “Ms. Blackford? Thank you. For believing and protecting me. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“You would have survived, Christina. Because you’re stronger than you know.”
Christina slid into the passenger seat, and for the first time since this started, she almost smiled. “You’re scary when you’re mad.”
“Clarence Sinclair is about to find out just how scary.”
Chapter
Fifteen
NAOMI
Sunday brunchat the Blackford house was a tradition that had followed me through my teenage rebellion, college years, marriage, and divorce. Some things never changed, and I was grateful for that consistency.
“Naomi, sweetheart.” My mother’s warm voice floated from the kitchen. “You’re just in time. The cornbread just came out.”
I followed the sound of her voice, stepping into the kitchen that hadn’t changed much in years. These were the same mauve walls, same wooden table where I’d done homework and had my first heartbreak. The same ceramic roosters lined the windowsill that my father pretended to hate but secretly loved.
“Hey, Mama.” I kissed her cheek, breathing in the vanilla and lavender that became her favorite fragrance. At sixty-two, Brenda Blackford was still beautiful, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a neat bun, her brown skin smooth and as flawless as my own. “Where’s Daddy?”
“Out back, fussing with that wheelchair again. The left wheel keeps sticking, and you know how he gets when things don’t work properly.”
I grimaced. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that he’s been stuck in the house for three days. The VA keeps saying they’ll send someone to look at it, but you know how that goes.”
