Keeping Jahleel: Jahleel #1.5 (Loving All Wrong)

  Keeping Jahleel

  A follow-up novella

  (Jahleel 1.5)

  by

  S. Ann Cole

  Keeping Jahleel

  By S. Ann Cole

  Copyright © S. Ann Cole 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright(s) reserved above and below, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

  Cover by S. Ann Cole

  For permission requests, contact to the publisher via email: ann@anncole.net

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Contact Ann

  S. Ann Cole's Bookshelf

  Dedication

  For those of you who loved the hell out of Jahleel, thought the ending was not enough, and demanded more.

  Here’s your “more”…

  Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away.

  —Dorothy Parker

  Chapter One

  Saying goodbye has never been a hard thing for me to do.

  I was much too familiar with it.

  Too familiar with chopping, punching, booting people out of my life due to my irremediable trust issues. But saying goodbye to someone I loved more than the woman who actually gave birth to me, was damned hard.

  Goodbye, Lydia.

  That was the last time I whispered the words inwardly before I collapsed to the ground.

  Instantly, his hands were around me, catching me, holding me firm, whispering soft words of comfort in my ear. Assuring me that crying didn’t make me weak, that I should be mourning the person who had such a profound impact on my life, the person who saved me. Assuring me that this was not the end, but the beginning. Our beginning. That it was time for a new chapter. Time for me to trust someone else. Time to let someone else in.

  Him.

  I love you.

  That was the first time I whispered the words inside or out loud since our journey to England.

  I didn’t have the time to love. I had the time to mourn. Everything had been about Lydia. And him—us—had been pushed aside. He seemed understanding enough, being by my side throughout the process, holding my hand—even though I was sure he had to be uncomfortable around a bunch of people he didn’t know, save for my brother, my sister, and Lion.

  If all this solemnness, tears, and bereavement was overwhelming for him, I couldn’t tell, because he’d carried a stoic expression all throughout. And remained quiet, speaking only when he thought I needed comfort.

  I love you.

  A second time I whispered it inside as he led me away from the black box, the black tears, the black lives, and towards our waiting vehicle. A downcast Thomas stood there, opening the door as we approached, eager to steer us away from beneath this black cloud.

  A foot afar from the vehicle, I stopped walking and turned in my comforter’s arms. Raising the veil from my face so he could see my eyes, I whispered out loud this time, “I love you.”

  Golden irises watched me, emotions elusive, buried deep inside, where no one could venture, where no one was allowed. Not even me. “I know.”

  “Thank you so much. For being here with me…”

  Warm thumbs caressed my cheeks, and his forehead creased with concern. “You okay now?”

  “You’re by my side.”

  “Good.”

  “I want you.”

  “You already have me,” his sincere voice told me.

  I grabbed a fistful of his crisp dress shirt, suddenly filled with desperation, earnestness, hopelessness, as tears brimmed my eyes again. But these fresh tears weren’t ones of mourning. They were of fear. “Yes, I do. But…I want to keep you. How do I keep you? Tell me. Please.”

  “Funny.” He laughed humorlessly, moving in and pressing his lips to mine. Our foreheads bumped each other’s next. Our breathing audible, mixing. Wide, passive grey eyes met warm, unreadable gold. “Was just here askin’ myself the same thing: How do I keep a woman like Saskia Day?” His head tilted to the side, mocking. “Tell me. Please.”

  I smiled, relaxing a little. “All you have to do is stay. Through cool flames and fiery waters.”

  “Well, then”—he smiled back—“you’ve got your answer.”

  Jahleel’s long index finger drew lazy circles on my lower back. White sheets draped over our naked bodies as we jetted 35,000ft to Germany, where I was needed for a few days before heading back to San Fran. Jahleel didn’t have to travel with me there, but as beat as he was, he was adamant on altering his schedule once more to be there for me.

  Guess this was what it felt like to have a man who actually gave a crap about all you do. He was in no haste to leave my side, no matter what that reluctance may cost him.

  Lion and the others had flown back a week ago, leaving us behind, as Jahleel had insisted I showed him all my footprints in England. He wanted to know everything. Where I grew up, where I went to school, where I worked, where I had my first kiss, where I lost my virginity…everything. I wasn’t allowed to leave anything out. So we spent the last week tracking all my wanderings, as I spilled every dirty detail about myself, my past life.

  It was warming some. His profound interest in me, my past. As though he was proving to me that what he felt for me went far beyond the physical. He wanted to be connected to me in each and every way.

  I fell in love with him even harder over this last week. A completely sexless week.

  That had just been remedied, though. We threw down an hour long session on the chartered jet. It was our first time beneath the sheets since he cheated on me.

  Once I’d gotten discharged from the hospital, my mind had been set on getting to see Lydia as soon as possible, so Jahleel had given me the space I needed while still being there. Our relationship, our engagement, our careers, had all been set on the back burner.

  But since I came to terms with Lydia’s death, decided to put it behind me and began focusing on my future—with him—my libido was back with a vengeance. And once the seatbelt sign was switched off, I’d attacked him.

  My breasts pressed against his bare chest, sweat and heat sticking our skin together, our heartbeats settling back to normal pace as we breathed silently through our post-coital glow.

  “What are your wishes?” I asked his neck, feeling superbly contented.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he answered, “I’ve only ever had one wish. And so far it’s halfway to coming true.”

  “Halfway?”

  “Yep.” He shifted down on the pillows and I scooted up a little so that our eyes leveled. “It’s a four step wish. Two more to go.”

  “Wha
t are the steps?”

  “Not tellin’ you, nosy.” He poked a finger in the dimple on my chin. A new habit of his.

  “C’mon! I spilled every single detail about me in one week. It’s only fair you return the favor.”

  “Only fair I return the favor,” he mused. Then he slipped a hand between my thighs and bit his lip. “True, you just gave me a fuckin’ mind-numbing blow and I didn’t return the favor, so let’s remedy—”

  Punching his arm, I glared. “I’m serious, JK.”

  Sighing, he removed his hand and studied my face for a beat. “Step one: make you mine, sexually. Step two: Make you mine, bindingly. Step three: Make you mine, legally. Step four: Make you mine, permanently.”

  Only Jahleel. “You mind breaking that down for me?”

  He laughed. “Trust me, it doesn’t get any simpler than that. Step one was to get you, claim you, start a relationship. Step two was to propose. Step three is to marry you. And step four is give you lots of babies so you’re tied to me for life.”

  “I only want one child.”

  “Three,” he countered. “Two boys, one girl.”

  “Well, you already have a daughter. So two, then.”

  Those words came out simple, but really, they were pretty damn hard to say, knowing Jahleel already had a daughter. A first child who wasn’t from me. As his soon to be wife, I’d always have baby mother drama to put up with.

  “No,” he said firmly. “I want a daughter from you who’ll look like you. I’ve never thought about havin’ kids until you. Then Marsha just fucked everything.”

  When I said nothing in reply, my mind wandering off at that lying, conniving Marsha and her far-end means of tying Jahleel, he grasped my chin and forced me to look at him.

  “I know what you’re thinkin’. But look at it this way: I found out about Claire when she’s grown, talking and walking. What I’ll have with you and our kids is what I never had with her. Me willfully, agreeably, knocking you up. The pregnancy phase, the births, the name picking, nursing them, watching them grow from creeping to walking, their first words, and most of all, having both parents there, growing them in truth, no lies, no secrets…” He trailed off, his brown brows furrowing as his expression became pensive.

  Pressing two fingers to the space between his brows, I tried smoothing out the creases there. “What’s wrong?”

  His eyes found mine. “Wanna add another step.”

  “Okay?”

  “No divorcing,” he said. “I don’t believe in divorces. I believe in stickin’ together and workin’ shit out. I grew up in a house of love with parents who never fought in front of us, and stuck together throughout the storms. I want the same for us and our kids. So, no divorcing, okay?”

  Ha! Who’d divorce him? Really, after waiting for so long for his love and commitment, he really thought I’d divorce him? Pfft. Not a chance. I was A-Okay with the “no divorce” rule. “Deal.”

  “No cheating.”

  “Deal.”

  “No lies.”

  “Deal.”

  “No secrets.”

  “Deal.”

  “No sex.”

  “Dea—Fuck no! No Deal.”

  Jahleel guffawed, rolling over on top of me. “You kept sayin’ deal, so…”

  I twisted my mouth to the side, thinking up another step. “How about sex everyday? Twice a day. And when it’s my time of the month, I give you blow-jobs three times a day.”

  Jahleel flashed me his crooked grin, his eyes laughing at me. “Mother. Fucking. Deal.”

  Then his mouth came down on mine, and in the next minute he was filling me.

  Chaos slapped us in the face the second we strolled out the doors of SFO on our return from Germany a week later.

  We stopped at a screeching halt at the unexpected attack of screaming fans and glittery posters. JK and Saskia 4eva! Hottest couple of the year! We ship Sahleel! …And all that buzz.

  There were airport securities barring them off with a failing fight as the fans screamed until their temples were red.

  “Fuck’s all this?” Jahleel mumbled from beside me, tucking his travel documents back inside his laptop bag.

  I was used to all this. But Jahleel, he wasn’t a fan. He detested having the spotlight on him and the much ado about nothing.

  Before I could answer, Ben, John, Lion, and two other burly men I didn’t recognize came bouncing forwards, flanking us and bustling us to a barely visible limo.

  “My bike…” Jahleel said as we were propelled to the limo.

  “I know how you feel ‘bout people drivin’ you, JK,” Lion responded over the noise, “But take a look around and tell me if you think you’ll get outta this on a fuckin’ bike.”

  Jahleel shook his head, unimpressed. “This is fuckin’ shit.” He dipped into his pocket and pulled out a parking card. “Know how to ride a bike, TomTom?”

  Thomas crossed his thick, muscular arms and raised a thin blond eyebrow, his pale blue eyes challenging. “Betta than you’ll ever be able to, careful rider.”

  In the short space of time we’ve been engaged for, Jahleel and Thomas had kicked it off like old buddies. For some reason, Thomas liked him and his “TomTom” nickname. And that was something, because Thomas didn’t like people. Period.

  Pleased me well, because it made my life a lot easier that he got along with my employees. In fact, ever since my suicide attempt, people seemed to turn to Jahleel instead of me. As though, somehow, he made sense and I didn’t. What he said mattered, and what I said didn’t. Many times when I gave orders to my own guards, I’d catch them shooting Jahleel an approval-seeking glance.

  Not that I minded. In a strange, submissive way, I preferred things like that. Fact was, I was the woman and I was the wealthier one. Most men might feel threatened by that aspect, or inadequate, so the fact that, despite my wealth and status, people still saw him as the man in the relationship spoke volumes.

  Tossing Thomas the parking card and bike keys, Jahleel warned, “Scratch it and I’ll kick the shit outta you.”

  “Would love to see you try,” Thomas chuckled, backing up into the clamoring crowd.

  We sidled into the limo with Lion, John shutting the door behind us.

  Sparing not a second, Jahleel pinned Lion with a pissed-the-fuck-off glare. “You mind tellin’ me what the fuck is going on?”

  Lion tugged up the sleeves of his black shirt with a graffiti bull dog on the front, his one inch thick gold chain glistening. Taking his own sweet time to answer, he straightened the flashy Movado watch on his wrist. Sonuvabitch was enjoying this.

  “Don’t be actin’ all pussy on a dick with me, JK. You never thought ‘bout what would come after takin’ that job to judge on Dancin’ 2 da Beat? Which entailed you gettin’ on television where millions of horny single women would see that ‘pretty boy’ face of yours and—”

  “The point?” I snapped at him.

  Why on earth was he talking to Jahleel about horny single women in front of me?

  Lion ignored me and went on. “Not only that, but you went ahead and proposed to one of the biggest superstars in the world right now. The hell did you think was gon’ happen, hmm?”

  Jahleel rubbed his forehead and let out a long, frustrated sigh. Yeah, I get it. He didn’t like this, but Lion was right. He couldn’t have expected that after all these changes he could just go back living a normal life.

  Pointing a finger at me, Lion continued, “Ever since your PR confirmed your engagement, it’s been fuckin’ chaos. Apparently, people love you two as a couple. We’ve been inundated with requests for interviews with you both, guest appearances, yada yada. And now it’s my job to make sure you two actually stay together and don’t fuck this up.”

  “The fuck are you implying?” Jahleel shot at him.

  “Do I even need to say?” Lion replied, brows arching up at us. “You two are explosive. Tragic. Bad shit happens when you get together. You love better when apart. But now that you’re toget
her again, I’m gon’ be the third man in the relationship. Sorry for interlopin’, but I see money, and we all can make a shit ton if we play this the right—”

  “We’re not playing anything,” Jahleel seethed, ire stroked. “Sassy and I are in a relationship. Engaged. This is not a game or a fuckin’ business. It’s called love, dipshit.”

  “Wouldya look at that.” Lion grinned. “Jahleel Mutha fuckin’ Kingston talkin’ ‘bout love. Ha!”

  “Fuck you, Lion.”

  “I feel ya, son. Get where you’re comin’ from. After all, I feel the same ‘bout my queen, T. ‘Cept, no one gives a shit ‘bout T and mines relationship. But you two’s relationship? ‘Merica wants to be a part of it. And it’s my advice that you let ‘em in.”

  “Not gonna happen,” Jahleel said adamantly.

  “Don’t think you really have a choice now, JK. You’re engaged to Saskia Day.” He pointed a stiff finger in the direction of the airport we were driving away from. “You don’t want that back there, then you break off the engagement. Simple as that. In fact, I recommend it. Break. Up.”

  Jahleel removed his hand from mine and I almost whimpered at the loss of contact. Avoiding my eyes, he leaned forward and dropped his head in his hands, as though considering Lion’s suggestion.

  Panicking, I looked over to Lion who didn’t have an ounce of emotion or care in his eyes. Right here, right now, he was a completely different person from the manager/friend I’d grown to love.

  No, he acting like a bossy, overbearing manager. The kind of manager I used to thank God he wasn’t. What was his problem? What could’ve possibly happened within the short space of time we left and now?

  “Why are you acting like this, Lion? You of all people know how we feel about each other. Why would you want to…break us up?”

  “Uh, I dunno. Maybe ‘cause the last time you two were together you landed up in a fuckin’ hospital bed?! And now an innocent man is servin’ ten years for your selfishness and stupidity?”