Page 51 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
I walked over and kissed the top of his head while putting on a brave face. “Great.”
We’ll be okay. We always are—just the two of us against the world.
But as I held my son close, I couldn’t silence the traitorous whisper in my heart that wondered what it might’ve been like to be three.
The minutethe wheels of my G700 jet kissed the runway, Simora vanished, and I was in full-blown damage control. I sat in the back of my blacked-out SUV, mentally exhausted. My head ached, my hands were shaking like church choir tambourines, and I was sweating through my custom-fitted sweatproof dress shirt. It was the middle of September, so it wasn’t even hot enough for me to be going through it like I was. I felt like I was one reckless decision away from ending up in a straitjacket. Had my mind been playing tricks on me this entire time?I hated all the confusion and commotion surrounding us.
My phone vibrated nonstop with calls, texts, emails, and new media alerts with clickbait-worthy headlines as I rode to my office. One front-page news headline showed up repeatedly:“Trouble in Paradise? Secrets Surface About Paternity of Billionaire’s Future Stepson.”I scoffed as I opened a text from my assistant with two words: Watch this. My thumb tapped the link to a video posted by a social media account with the handle @RedCarpetReceipts. It already had over two million views.
“STOP SCROLLING. Because the tea is about to spill, okay? So Simora Campbell, our modern-day Cinderella, no Brandy, who’s engaged to billionaire Adonis Holland, is getting dragged all across the blogs right now, all thanks to the messiest paternity scandal since the former governor of California banged his Guatemalan housekeeper, honey.
“Jadarius Washington, convicted murderer of Adonis Holland’s father, just told the press that he’s Simora’s baby daddy, allegedly. Yeah. Pick your mouth up. You heard that right. He’s saying he’s the pappy, y’all! And listen . . . it may just be my eyes, but the kiddo resembles him to me—same mouth and eyebrows, at least.
“Now, I’m not saying the engagement is off for our girl, because you know I love a good come up, a good fairytale, but I am saying this shit is messier than a housewives reunion on steroids, and I don’t know how they’re making it down the aisle after this.
“So far, she hasn’t commented, and neither has Adonis’s camp. But I don’t know about y’all, but I am popping my popcorn to see how this unfolds. Tell me what you think in the comments. Am I tripping, or does the kiddo favor Jadarius? Did Simora know and try to pull a billion-dollar wool over Adonis’s eyes? I’m taking bets. How long before they call off the wedding?”
I stopped looking at the screen altogether, holding the power button down until it turned off. The stillness that followed was just as unsettling, especially now that she was gone. A strong drink. That was what the fuck I needed. Whiskey. Tequila.Cognac. Anything that would sting worse than the blogs that always had my name in some gossip and the pain of losing her.
I should’ve been numb to those types of emotions, but I felt everything. I was the one who’d decided to cut things off, then was six feet deep in my feelings when she was gone. I was accustomed to letting my feelings come and go like seasons, but without her, I just might’ve gone off the deep end.
As we pulled up outside of headquarters, the paparazzi were already swarming like a hive of riled-up bees—cameras clicking and flashing and phones recording every move I made and every word I spoke, which was why I didn’t say shit even through the shouting of questions that followed me to the lobby.
“Mr. Holland! Is it true Jadarius Washington is the father of your fiancée’s son?”
“How do you feel knowing the man who killed your father is the bio dad of your soon-to-be stepson?”
“Are you still getting married?”
“Where is your fiancée?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Still, I didn’t flinch—didn’t let the sharks smell my blood in the water. I just pushed past them like normal, encircled by my security team of trained goons in suits who were ready to stiff-arm a mothafucka on command.
By the time I reached the executive suite, my office was quiet, just the way I needed it to be to think through my next few moves. Waiting at the edge of my desk, clutching her tablet, was Rita. She pointed to a file lying on my desk before speaking.
“He’s on Rikers Island. Inmate number 36518972. Details on his exact location are in the file.”
I picked it up, eyes scanning from left to right. “Has he been in contact with anyone besides the media lately?”
Rita paused. “So far, I’ve only found one recorded call from last week that he made to James Giles, one of your father’s old business associates.”
“What did they discuss?”
“It was a short call, only about a minute and a half. From what I was able to gather, he was asking for information on you and the deal.”
“What about me? How did he even know about the deal I had on the table with Ellis’s company?”
“Said he read an article about you inForbes, and I guess he’s been on this pursuit for revenge ever since.”
I sucked my teeth. “I don’t understand why anyone would do business with him after what he did, let alone answer his desperate calls from prison.”
She continued. “My cousin is one of the guards there. He told me that he’s been requesting updates to his visitation list and trying to get press involved for the last couple of days.”
I grunted.
She continued. “Did you watch the video I sent you?”
“Yeah. I saw that bullshit.”
