The Scammer(82)

A fire . . . before it spreads . . . and destroys more lives. Something I should have done from the start.

I straighten with resolve. “How?”

Dr. Barnes refreshes his cup before turning to me with a smile. “Deprive it of oxygen.”



* * *




I walk out of Dr. Barnes’s building with my head held high, ignoring the stares that my battered face and pixie cut draw. I think about those times I’ve fallen off the balance beam. The brutal thump your body makes as it hits the mat, the “Oooo” then judgmental silence from onlookers. But you can’t focus on the fall. You have to spring back onto the beam and slip back into your routine like nothing ever happened.

I grab my phone out of my pocket and dial.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Vanessa asks, oozing with uncertainty. “I heard what happened. I swear I had nothing to do with—”

“Can I talk to Devonte. Please?”

“Um. Okay. One second.”

There’s a ruffling on the line, muffled words exchanged, before his voice comes through, silky smooth as ever.

“Jordyn. Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” I keep my own voice light and upbeat.

“Well. Good. You did the right thing, calling me. Is there something you wish to say?”

He’s looking for an apology. The audacity.

“Yeah.” I take a deep breath. “‘Lions are not concerned with the opinions of sheep.’”

Devonte is silent for a moment. “What . . . what did you say?”

I wish I could see his face but the crack in his voice is just as sweet. “You heard me.”

“Where did you hear that?” he snaps. “How did you—”

“I need to see you in person. Alone. It’s important.”

“Stay right there. I’m coming now!”





Thirty-Two




I pace around my room in fresh jeans and a T-shirt. Modest. Virtuous attire. I iced my face as much as possible, hoping the swelling would go down. My hair is a patchwork quilt of clumps that the only thing I could do is wash and wear it natural.

Devonte breezes through the door, stopping to take me in.

“Hello Jordyn.”

“Um. Hey,” I mumble, voice cracking. “Would you like some tea?”

He smiles appreciatively and I know because he likes my curly ’fro.

“I . . . asked Vanessa to give us a moment,” he says, taking off his jacket, laying it over my chair. “So we can be alone. Like I promised.”

I fold my hands, waiting. I’ve learned his habits, know his likes. Men are to speak first, women are only secondary in nature.

Principle number fifteen: Let the other person do a great deal of the talking.

He stalks forward. “‘Lions are not concerned with the opinions of sheep.’ Where did you hear that?”

“You’ve said it before. Once, when we were working on—”

“No I didn’t,” he snaps.

“Oh. Well, I guess I’ve heard it somewhere,” I say, fluttering about the room, pushing the chair into my desk, keeping my back to him. “Maybe some white man stole it from you. But it sounds like something you’d say.”

I grip his jacket, taking in the scent, and can feel him watching my every move.

He grabs my wrist, pulling me close. “Why are you lying, Jordyn?”

My neck is on fire and I think of the way Nick avoids questions. “Can you tell me what it means?”

Devonte gives me a dead-eyed stare and I’m almost positive he can read my mind. He sits on my bed, patting the space next to him. It takes me a moment to unfreeze my limbs to join him.

“It means,” he starts. “Kings weren’t meant to starve. They were meant for riches.”

Principle number eleven: Show respect. Never say, “You’re wrong.”

I pick a piece of lint off the bed. “Are you . . . a king?”

“No, love. I’m a God.”

The answer is so final and absolute, his inflated sense of self-importance is remarkable.

Devonte leans closer to me, heat radiating between us.

“I want you to be honest with me, Jordyn.”

I meet his gaze, pushing myself.

“I want you to be honest with me too,” I coo.

He smiles triumphantly. “I meant what I said . . . about you being different. You are different. I could sense that about you from the moment we met. It’s why I fought for you. You don’t need to be a lawyer. You can be anything you want with me. You don’t need your family holding you back. You have me to lift you up.”

I swallow hard, curling inward. He places a finger under my chin.

“I want to make you my queen. Put you above all the rest. Us together, with our family . . . the love between us could change the world. Don’t you think?”

I bite my tongue, his touch revolting.

“I love you.” He laughs. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve said that in a long time.”

My head is spinning. “You . . . love me, but you let Kerry punch me that night?”

He shrugs, gently touching my hair in awe. “Some lessons need to be felt, not taught.”

“If you love me . . . then why did you send those girls to get me?”