Kitabı oku: «King's Promise», sayfa 2
Xavier reached over and popped Quentin on the back of the head.
“Ow.”
“Just order a damn drink.” Xavier cut him a look that told him to knock it off.
“All right. Damn. There’s no reason for all this black-on-black crime.” He pumped his fist to his chest. “We’re family.”
Xavier rolled his eyes at his cousin’s nonsense. Cheryl snickered. “Take your time.”
Q turned and hit her with his dimpled smile, but before he could get his mack mojo going, Xavier elbowed him. It wasn’t like him to cock-block this hard. But he instinctively felt the alpha-male impulse to mark his territory.
“I’ll just have a Singapore Sling.” Q looked over at Xavier. “If that’s all right with you.”
Cheryl hopped right to it, while Xavier and Q exchanged looks. No words were exchanged between the cousins, but their ESP battle went something like this….
Xavier: Cuz, back the hell off. She’s mine.
Quentin: I don’t see any rings on her fingers. She’s fair game.
Xavier: Family be damned, if you don’t pump the brakes I’ll take you out back and break your face.
Quentin: A’ight. A’ight. Stop the violence.
“Your drink,” Cheryl said, setting the third drink on the counter with a flourish and settling her hands on her hips.
Q picked up his glass, sipped, smacked his lips together while pretending to be in deep thought and then sipped again.
“Well?” Cheryl asked.
“Not bad. Not bad,” Q said. “But I’m concerned about your presentation.”
Xavier groaned and then propped an elbow on the bar so that he could massage the bridge of his nose.
“I’m sorry,” Cheryl said. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Entertainment.” Q threw up his hands. “I know a little bit about being behind the bar and it’s been my experience that people really like it if a bartender…you know, entertains a bit.”
“Like hop on the bar and start dancing like Coyote Ugly.”
Quentin tapped his nose. “Do you dance?”
“Uh, no. I’m not interested in being a dancer. I just want to tend bar.”
“The job doesn’t entail dancing.” Xavier elbowed Q.
“What?” Q hissed. “Closed mouths don’t get fed.”
“Please ignore him,” Xavier said.
Cheryl held her smile. “Aw. He seems harmless.”
Quentin settled both his elbows on the bar and cradled his head in his hands. “I am completely harmless. Are you married?”
“Q,” Xavier warned.
“No. I’m not,” Cheryl answered.
“Boyfriend?” Quentin pressed.
“No boyfriend, unfortunately,” she said. Her gaze cut over to Xavier.
He felt another gut punch and wondered how much longer it would take before he suffered a knockout.
“But if you’re looking for more entertaining bartending…” She flipped the bottle of rum over her shoulder and then dipped her knees and caught the bottle with one hand behind her back. “I can do that, too.”
“You’re hired,” Quentin said, grinning.
“Q!” Xavier snapped. “What?”
Xavier jerked his head around toward his cousin, a look of annoyance plastered on his face. “You’re a silent partner. That means be quiet.”
“Touché.” Q shifted in his seat and straightened an invisible tie. “I’m sorry, Ms. Shepherd. Apparently, I don’t have the power to hire you. But I want you to know that I would hire you if I could.”
“Me, too,” Jeremy tossed in, draining his drink. “This is a really good Voodoo Sunrise.”
Now three sets of eyes turned toward Xavier.
“You said that you’re in school. How many hours are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for full-time work. Medical school isn’t cheap,” she joked.
“That’s a lot of work,” he noted.
“I can handle it,” she said, thrusting her chin up. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a hard worker.”
Intelligence and determination glimmered in her maple-brown eyes as well as a hint of playful interest as she held Xavier’s bold gaze. “You say that you used to work at your uncle’s bar, but you know that working at a gentlemen’s club is a completely different animal. Patrons are going to hit on you—some are rude, some are obnoxious. Do you think you can handle that?”
Cheryl cocked her head. “I didn’t just get this body last night, Mr. King. Putting up with rude and obnoxious comments comes with the territory.”
Xavier laughed. “Good answer.”
Jeremy leaned over. “Now will you hire her?”
Xavier rolled his eyes. “Looks like if I don’t hire you, your new fan club might revolt.”
Cheryl flashed the two cousins an appreciative look. “A woman can never have too many fans. Thanks, guys.” She winked at them and they literally slid their elbows out in front of them like she’d just melted their hearts. “So does that mean I have the job?”
“It’s yours if you want it. Job starts Friday. Six o’clock sharp.”
“Great! I’ll be here!”
She finally tossed Xavier a wink and he nearly made a fool of himself, too, by gushing all over her. “Then we’ll see you Friday.”
Chapter 2
Lord have mercy.
Cheryl had never seen three finer men in all her life. When she first walked in and they turned toward her, she honestly felt like she was the winner of some kind of man-fantasy lottery. But the one who was seriously buttering her toast was the one she could barely look at. And when she finally did toss him a wink, his smile turned predatory. How on earth was she going to manage working for this man without suffering through endless fantasies of ripping his clothes off and having her way with him?
Hell, even now she wasn’t sure that she was walking a straight line toward the front door. It had a lot to do with knowing that there were three pairs of eyes following the sway of her hips and the jiggle of her ass. Of course, when she turned around at the glass door to give them a final wave, they all played it off and exchanged innocent smiles with her.
“Thanks again.” She rushed out into the parking lot to her old blue Ford Taurus, pretending that her heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute. As she climbed behind the wheel, she saw the three of them walk out of the club, as well. They looked like GQ models, laughing and joking with one another.
Cheryl’s gaze zoomed in on the tallest of the group, Xavier King, as she felt the muscles in her stomach quiver. When was the last time something like that had happened to her—junior high? She fumbled with the keys, trying to insert them into the ignition, while she took in his close-cropped hair, handsome chiseled features, smooth, milk-chocolate skin and a muscled body that was just screaming her name.
Even though he wore a bright white dress shirt and a pair of black jeans, Cheryl had no trouble picturing him stripped down to his birthday suit. How could she not? Broad chest, trim waist and powerful thighs—this was a man who hadn’t let himself go since his days of earning money in the boxing ring. He was beyond fine, but the problem was that he knew it.
She had no problem imagining women tripping over their bottom lips trying to get his attention, and no doubt he had his pick. Shoot, under the right circumstances… “Shake it off, girl. Shake it off.” Cheryl finally slipped the key into the ignition and started the car.
The men glanced in her direction and she exchanged a polite wave as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed out onto the street. No sooner had she taken a left onto the main road did her cell phone ring. “Hello.”
“Well, how did it go?” Johnnie asked.
“I got the job,” Cheryl said, unable to stop herself from sounding cocky.
“It was the Got Milk T-shirt, wasn’t it?”
“Are you insinuating that my body got me a job at a strip club instead of my amazing bartending skills?”
Johnnie laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Cheryl smiled. “Well…maybe it was more like a one-two punch.”
“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that. How far are you from the station?”
Cheryl glanced down at the clock on the console. “Be there in ten.” She disconnected the call. During the ten-minute drive, Cheryl had a hard time keeping her mind on the road and off Xavier King. How many hours did a man have to put in at the gym to get a body like that? Two hours a day—three?
She was sure that if she had a magnifying glass or a jeweler’s loupe, she wouldn’t have been able to find a single ounce of fat anywhere on his body. And Lawd have mercy, that chest. Not only was it wide, but he had just the right kind of muscles that didn’t make him look like a steroid freak. They looked like the perfect place for a woman to lay her head down on every night.
Before Cheryl knew it, she was getting herself so hot and worked up that she had to turn on the air conditioner to try and cool off. By the time she reached the police station, she was reasonably composed, but she wouldn’t have turned down a cold shower if the opportunity presented itself.
She parked, cut off the engine and reached over to the glove compartment to retrieve her badge and police-issue Glock before climbing out of the car. But the minute she walked into the precinct, she drew more than her fair share of stares from her male colleagues.
“Yo, Grier. I got some milk for you,” Officer Daniel Banks hollered with his arms outstretched. “What’s my prize?”
There was a ripple of laughter across the precinct floor.
Cheryl gave his ignorant ass the bird and kept it moving toward her department.
Her partner, Officer Johnnie Walsh, hung up the phone on her desk and then glanced over at the ridiculously large clock on the wall. “Eight minutes. Not bad.”
“I aim to please,” Cheryl said, plopping down into the chair beside her partner’s desk. “Have I missed anything?”
Johnnie leaned her five-foot-four frame back in her chair and exhaled a long breath. “Nothing that has anything to do with our case, if that’s what you mean. But the mayor and the chief of police are in the lieutenant’s office right now giving him a dressing-down over that botched armored-car robbery yesterday. Two cops down and the perpetrators getting away means the lieutenant isn’t going to have much ass left to sit on for the rest of the year.”
Cheryl glanced at the lieutenant’s closed door and shook her head. “It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
Johnnie laughed. “I take it that means you and the big man haven’t kissed and made up yet?”
“That is never going to happen.”
Johnnie shrugged and gave her the “I told you so” look a couple of seconds before it tumbled out her mouth. “I told you not to get involved in an office romance. Let alone with someone you work for.”
Cheryl performed her customary head bob and eye roll. What else could she do? Johnnie had warned her repeatedly and she had ignored her repeatedly. Mainly because as far as Cheryl was concerned, her mother had been right: she had to learn to do things the hard way. It was one of the unfortunate side effects of never taking no for an answer, wanting to do things her way and having issues with authority figures. Combine all of those traits and it meant that Cheryl almost always stayed in trouble.
Johnnie’s phone rang and she quickly picked it up.
Cheryl started to turn her head away from the door when it suddenly jerked open and the mayor and chief of police strode out like twin tornadoes ripping through the office. All eyes followed them until they were out of sight before looking back at Lieutenant Jason Mackey, who was last to exit his office.
To Cheryl’s inquisitive eye, it looked like Jason Mackey’s superiors had done more than just chew his butt off. They had beaten every ounce of confidence out of his usually cocky demeanor. “Aww,” Cheryl said, low enough for Johnnie’s ears only. “I almost feel sorry for him.”
Johnnie placed a hand over the mouthpiece. “The keyword is almost.”
Cheryl turned back around and flashed a smile. “Good ear.”
Johnnie removed her hand and said into the line, “We’re on our way.” She hung up and climbed out of her seat. “Let’s go.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Cheryl pitched herself out of the chair and followed her partner into the department’s smallest conference room. On a corkboard were photos and diagrams of how the police department believed Operation Striptease broke down. As Cheryl took her seat in one of the metal folding chairs, she stared at pictures of the suspected mules, Mario and Alejandro Gutierrez, hauling everything from marijuana, cocaine and heroine out of Mexico to the runners, Kendrick Hodges and Jermaine Wallace. From there, things tended to get a little tricky. Who was trafficking drugs and distributing them to the dancers and clientele at a number of strip clubs, lounges and gentlemen’s clubs? More importantly, just how far up the chain did the illegal activity go? Cheryl had a little run-in with Hodges last year—picked him up on a breaking-and-entering charge. He was a mean son of a bitch who hated cops. She didn’t look forward to crossing paths with him again.
In no time at all, Cheryl’s gaze shot up to the top of the board where striking pictures of Xavier King and Quentin Hinton were posted. Each had a large question mark made with a wide, black Sharpie next to their faces. While other members of their team and even some from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation task force filtered into the room, Cheryl couldn’t pull her gaze away from Xavier’s handsome face.
Johnnie leaned over and whispered, “Between you and me, is Xavier King that fine in person?”
Immediately, the corners of Cheryl’s lips curled. “Honey, his pictures don’t nearly do him justice.”
Johnnie leaned in so close that Cheryl felt like her partner was invading her personal space. “Ooooh. I know that look.” Johnnie groaned, shaking her head. “I know that look.”
“What?” Cheryl’s brows knitted. “What look?”
“That bitch in heat look,” Johnnie spat out. She had never been one to mince words. “You know, the one you always get two seconds before you land in hot water.”
Cheryl nodded and began rolling her eyes again.
Johnnie’s groan became louder before she hissed, “Get that silly-ass look off your face. Get your hormones in check and your mind on the J-O-B.”
“Since when don’t I do my job?” Cheryl asked, looking at her partner and friend.
Johnnie crossed her arms. “All I’m saying is that I’ve been gunning for that sergeant’s badge and this case can make it happen. Don’t screw it up.”
“Again. When it comes to my job, I do my job.”
“And when it comes to good-looking men, you lose your head,” Johnnie reminded her. On cue, Lieutenant Mackey strolled his arrogant butt into the squad room and their eyes connected for a brief second before another officer captured his attention with a question.
Jason Mackey, six foot one with a smooth, dark-chocolate complexion, had first attracted Cheryl’s attention five years ago when she joined the force, mainly because he knew how to wield his power and authority like no one she’d ever met before. Ignoring common sense and unsolicited advice from her partner, she gave in to their obvious physical attraction and proceeded to have a six-month affair that was totally against department policy.
Their first night together was great. The other five months and twenty-nine days was a complete nightmare. She suffered endless migraines and gut-wrenching regret. Mackey, however, was head over heels in love. Cheryl had to learn the hard way how bad and sticky it was to try to end an office romance—though Jason Mackey seemed hardly over it.
Slowly, she realized that Mackey was working his way around the room. She found herself feverishly praying for the meeting to hurry up and get started. But Cheryl wasn’t that lucky.
“Officer Grier.” Mackey’s eyes roamed over her face before slowly following the contours of her curvy body. “Now, why am I not surprised that you didn’t have a problem landing a job at The Dollhouse?”
She smiled. “Because you know that I’m good at whatever I put my mind to.” That didn’t come out right.
Mackey immediately hiked up a brow. “You know…now that you’ve mentioned it… You do have a point there.”
From the corner of her eye, Cheryl saw Johnnie pretending to gag. However, when Mackey cast his gaze over at her partner, she had a straight face and quickly feigned an innocent smile. That alone was enough for him to continue to look at her suspiciously.
“So, uh, what was your impression of Mr. King and Mr. Hinton?” Mackey asked, returning his gaze to Cheryl. “Any red flags we should know of?”
“No. Actually, they seem like three normal—”
“Three?”
“Yeah. Uh, Xavier’s younger brother was there, as well. Jeremy King. When I applied for the job, Xavier was with Quentin and Jeremy.”
“Think the younger brother might have a hand in all of this?”
Cheryl started to shake her head.
“I mean, don’t the other King brothers own The Dollhouse’s other locations in Las Vegas and Los Angeles? What if they have a whole network set up?”
Mackey was getting that ambitious look in his eyes. No doubt expanding the scope of the investigation, as visions of a major drug bust danced like sugarplums in his head. The fame and the national recognition could land him something like head of Homeland Security.
When Cheryl glanced over at her partner to make sure that she got a good look at Mackey’s daydreaming butt, she saw Johnnie had the same look in her eyes. “I don’t know,” Cheryl said. “They seemed like normal guys to me. My instincts tell me that they don’t have anything to do with any of this,” she said, gesturing toward the corkboard. Her comment was like a sharp pin in their fantasy career-making balloons. She’d swear on a stack of Bibles that she heard two thunderous pops—deflating their lofty ambitions—before they leveled disappointed frowns in her direction.
“But you could be wrong,” Mackey said snidely. “It’s been known to happen before.”
Cheryl’s eyes narrowed. “You asked me for my opinion and I gave it.”
Mackey smiled when he sensed that he had hit a nerve. “And if you’re wrong, you won’t have any problems slapping the handcuffs on Mr. Big-Time Ex-Boxing Champion, will you?”
“Absolutely not. I am a police officer first and foremost, and if and when the time comes to slap the handcuffs on Xavier King, I’ll do so without hesitation.”
Chapter 3
Across town, Xavier, Jeremy and Quentin were being seated at a private table at Ruth’s Chris Steak House. Whenever they got together, the occasion usually called for something involving steak—or beer—but definitely a steak.
“Here you go, gentlemen. Your waiter’s name is Sasha and she will be with you in a minute,” their hostess said as she flirted and then added a wink.
All three men gave her their best player’s smile before easing into the leather chairs around the table and opening their menus. Once she turned and walked away, they looked at one another and said in unison, “She wants me.”
They immediately looked at one another skeptically. They knew that any one of them could easily turn heads when it came to the ladies. Xavier, a former heavyweight champion, stood a solid six foot four and was muscular with smooth chocolate skin and licorice eyes. His natural swagger was loaded with confidence that he’d earned in and out of the bedroom. Unlike his older brother Eamon, Xavier didn’t have a single monogamous gene in his body, and that was a good thing in his opinion. It didn’t make him a jerk or anything. He truly believed that life was meant to be enjoyed to the fullest, and more than anything he enjoyed the pleasure of a woman’s company, or two, but definitely no more than three. And he had it on good authority that they enjoyed him, too.
“A hundred bucks says that she was winking at me,” Q said, easing back in his chair and puffing out his chest.
“In your dreams, grandpa,” Jeremy countered. “The only thing that dime would give you is a senior citizen discount on your meal.”
Xavier pressed his lips together, but a snicker still managed to escape.
“Senior—what?” Q’s face colored with embarrassment. “I’ll have you know that the forties are the new thirties, young blood.”
“Sure. Sure.” Jeremy bobbed his head, but crudely gestured with his hands in a way that implied Q was a whack job.
Quentin’s indignation deepened, causing him to smack the table with his hand and up the ante. “A thousand bucks.”
Both Xavier and his nearly look-alike brother straightened in their chairs now that there was some serious money on the table.
“What exactly is the bet?” Xavier asked.
“Simple. Whoever gets her number wins.”
The King brothers rolled their eyes and waved him off.
“Please,” Xavier said, reaching for his water. “That’s child’s play. Who’s to say that she won’t give her number to all three of us?”
Q conceded his point. “All right. Let’s make it whoever can get her in bed. Sounds fair?”
The brothers looked at each other and shrugged.
“All right,” Jeremy said. “Why not? I don’t have any plans tonight. You in, bro?”
Xavier looked at his watch and remembered that he actually did have other plans after dinner and heaved a reluctant sigh. “Sorry. I’m going to have to leave this easy money on the table. But you two go for what you know. I’ll be interested in seeing how this one pans out—old school versus new school.” He pointed a finger at his brother. “Don’t you let me down.”
“Please.” Jeremy leaned back in his chair so that his ego would have enough room at the table. “I got you covered like Allstate. Don’t worry about me, be concerned about grandpa here. I don’t think that he’s going to accept the fact that his player’s card expired—a loooong time ago.”
If looks could kill, Jeremy would have been slowly disemboweled by his cousin.
“I see right now that it’s time to smack you on the ass and send you back crying to your mama,” Q said, smirking. “When it comes to women, all the real players know to call me the Professor.”
“Oh? Is that right?” Jeremy laughed.
“That’s right. Look it up in the dictionary. You’ll see my picture in there.”
While the two cousins argued and goaded each other as to who was the better player, neither of them noticed when the hostess waltzed back by the table, leading another party to their table, and very slyly slipped her number next to Xavier’s silverware.
Xavier caught the slick move, picked up the scrap of paper, looked at it and then tucked it into his black jeans with a smirk. Old school, new school—there was nothing like just being the best school. “Will you two knuckleheads shut up and get back to telling me how much of a genius I am with all the new renovations?”
That stopped the argument long enough for them to flash him a get-over-yourself look.
“What? That is why we came here, isn’t it? To celebrate my genius?”
“Frankly, I just tagged along for the free meal,” Jeremy said.
“Free?” Q frowned. “The only thing free, cuz, was the ride over here. That fancy new renovation job is coming out of my pocket.”
Xavier shrugged. “You’re the one that wrecked the place.”
“When I said I would pay for the damages, I was thinking a few tables and chairs. I didn’t think that you’d go buck-wild and gut the place.”
“Maybe next time you’ll be a little more specific,” Xavier said with absolutely no remorse.
“Does that mean you’ll pay for renovations in the Los Angeles club?” Jeremy asked, since he managed that location.
“Hell to the no!” Quentin said, twisting his face. “What do you think I am—First National Bank?” Then, suddenly, he closed his eyes and groaned.
Xavier frowned. “What’s up with you?”
Q shook his head. “I sounded like my father just now.”
Xavier and Jeremy exchanged looks and busted out laughing.
Quentin and his father’s contentious relationship had been gossip fodder for family members over the years. Roger Hinton, perhaps the most successful man in the family tree, built his fortune in commercial real estate and computer technology in the early eighties, and was one of only a handful of African-American billionaires. Brilliant in business, he’d raised two sons who were equally ambitious and nearly as successful in their own right. Then there was his third son, Quentin, who by all accounts until recently showed an almost violent allergic reaction to the very thought of holding a job.
After much back and forth, disinheritance, bribery and being swept back into the family’s good graces, the one business that Q invested in—The Dollhouse—had made him rich in his own right. Brilliant or lucky? Most of the family decided it was luck. Xavier thought it had more to do with his own brilliance.
True, his older brother Eamon already owned The Dollhouse in Atlanta and he was content to keep it a small club while he fiddled with the idea of opening a restaurant until Xavier saw its true potential, and expanded the operation by capitalizing on a niche market—bachelor-party planning—and launched Bachelors Adventures. The concept was simple, and Xavier saw an opportunity to capitalize on an underserved market. Sure, any strip club could host a bachelor party. But not many catered to fantasy-driven bachelor parties, complete with themes and costumes—if that’s what you wanted.
A bachelor party was a rite of passage. It was a big deal, and since it would be in poor taste to have a wake the night before a wedding, most men felt they deserved to party one last time like a rock star. There was no event too small or too big that Bachelors Adventures couldn’t make happen. That simple business concept and the power of an influential word-of-mouth campaign is what really put The Dollhouse on the map, and not only made them serious contenders in their industry but solidified their reputation as Kings.
“Hello, gentlemen. My name is Sasha and I’ll be your waitress for the evening. Are you ready for me to take your drink orders?”
They quickly put their conversation on pause and turned their attention to an extremely petite red-bone sporting short, natural hair in spiral twists. Her black-rimmed glasses gave her a studious look and her bright-white smile was warm and inviting.
“Three Heinekens,” Xavier ordered for everyone.
Sasha quickly scribbled it down and then asked whether they were ready to order food. Once they’d selected their entrées, she took their menus and promised that everything would be ready in a few minutes. Of course, when she walked away, they gave her retreating figure another look.
“How about double or nothing,” Quentin asked.
Xavier rolled his eyes. “I think you need to put your dick on a shorter leash.”
Q’s face twisted in horror. “Why in the hell would I want to do that? The happier he is, the happier I am.”
Xavier’s brows lifted. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”
Clearly, Q had because he immediately started shifting around in his chair.
Sasha proved to be good at her job and quickly returned with their beers, setting their bottles down in front of them. “Your food will be right up.”
The men flashed her quick smiles as they reached for their beers and returned to their conversation.
“So what do you think of the spanking-new bartender you hired today?” Quentin asked, seemingly having tired of arguing with Jeremy.
Xavier leaned back in his chair and gave the question some serious thought. “She’ll certainly make things interesting.”
“I’ll say,” Q responded, reaching for his beer. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cock-block so hard in my life.”
“Please.” Xavier gave a halfhearted laugh and rolled his eyes. “If anything, I was trying to prevent you guys from embarrassing yourselves and scaring the woman.”
Neither his brother nor his cousin looked like they bought that load of crap.
Jeremy was the first to call him on it. “Please. You were throwing so much shade that I thought we were in the middle of a cave. But that’s all right. I’m gonna let it go. But only because I’m heading back to Los Angeles tomorrow and you know how I feel about long-distance relationships.”
Quentin laughed. “Yeah. The same way you feel about all relationships. You don’t do them.”
Jeremy bobbed his head along with the joke, mainly because it was true—for all of them. In their world, marriage was a dying institution. Who needed a piece of paper? Life was meant to be lived and enjoyed—the less drama, the better. And if there was one thing that all three men at the table agreed upon, it was that relationships ultimately involved a whole lot of drama.
“Frankly,” Jeremy said. “Business has more than doubled at our L.A. club, so we might want to look into expanding some more.”
“In a down economy?” Xavier asked.
Quentin laughed. “Our business is recession-proof.”
Xavier conceded the point. “Maybe I’m not feeling it because I’ve been renovating for a hot minute. All I’ve been doing is writing checks.”
“There’s still revenue from Bachelors Adventures coming in,” Q reminded him. “You’ve been on top of your game keeping those parties going at local hotels and other venues.”
“True that.” Xavier nodded. “I have this Lawrence of Arabia one coming up with this big-wig CEO out of New York. We’re blowing up off word of mouth.”
Q shrugged. “The old-fashioned way of doing business.”
“We may have to look into expanding into New York, too,” Jeremy interjected.
Q and Xavier frowned.
“What?” Jeremy shrugged. “If there’s money to be made and our hustle is strong, what’s the problem?”
“There is such a thing as growing too fast, you know?” Quentin warned.
“Just like there’s such a thing as striking while the iron is still hot,” Jeremy volleyed, unfazed.
Xavier smiled at the raw, unadulterated ambition gleaming in his brother’s eyes. Jeremy made no bones about the fact that he was out to make his paper. Ambition was great. It would probably take his brother a long way. At least, Xavier hoped it would—unlike his own.
