I opened my mouth to explain, but Jackson beat me to it and brought our attention over to him.
With his phone aimed directly at me, he stated, “Thanks, Skyler, for hiring us our own private stripper.”
My mouth dropped open, was he recording me?
“Jackson, that’s not what I was doing. I was dancing for Journey and making her laugh.”
He cunningly grinned and abruptly turned and left, Jagger followed close behind him. His head hanging low, but it was the soft chuckle and smile on Jagger’s face that had me smiling and chuckling too.
For some reason, I just knew it was the first time he’d laughed or smiled in who knows how long. As embarrassed as I was, it didn’t take away from the fact…
That I at least got two Pierces to laugh and smile on my first day.
Even if it was at my expense.
CHAPTER EIGHT
<>Camila<>
Now
By the time I walked through the hallway of my apartment complex later that day, it was well after nine at night.
“Oh, hell no,” I murmured, noticing the door to my place was unlocked when I went to turn the key and that only meant one thing.
As soon as I opened the door and stepped inside, I stopped dead in my tracks. My head jerked back, my eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Taking in the large stacks of money laid out before me on my coffee table.
“Sean,” I hissed, shifting my eyes to his large frame sitting on my couch nonchalantly, like it was no big deal there were thousands of dollars laid out in front of us.
“It ain’t what ya think, baby.”
“Is that right? Care to enlighten me then? ‘Cuz I know your ass didn’t break into my apartment to hide your blood money here.”
“I ain’t hidin’ shit. It’s for you.”
“It’s for me? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, it’s yours. It’s for your nursin’ loans. You ain’t gotta work at another man’s house, I’ll take care of you. Alright?”
“Oh, fuck no,” I seethed, slamming the door behind me. I was over to him in two long strides, stepping right up in his face. “Who the hell do you think you are, Sean?”
He stood up, stepping into mine. His giant build towered over my five-feet-four frame, but I didn’t back down. If anything, I stood taller. Cocking my head in his face.
“I’m your man, that’s who.”
“You haven’t been my man in a really long time, so quit with the bullshit. Get out of my apartment and take your drug money with you.”
He grinned, licking his lips. “You know what your feisty Latina temper does to me, Camila. So how ’bout I just slip you the D to shut ya the fuck up.”
I pushed him, hard. He barely wavered, pissing me off even more. “I don’t want to catch anything, Sean. Why don’t you hit up your groupies? Plenty of them live in this building. I mean, I’m just basing it off the times you stumbled from my bed into theirs.”
“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you? You’ve always been my number one girl. Gettin’ my dick sucked here and there don’t change the fact you’re my queen.” He lifted his hand to touch me, and I shoved it away. “You just tryin’ to make my dick hard.”
“Try touching me one more time and watch what I do to your hard dick. Now. Get. Out!”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He sat his stubborn ass back down, placing his arms out on the back of the couch.
My couch.
“Comfortable, Sean?”
“I will be once ya get on your knees.”
“And do what exactly?”
“Thank me for payin’ off your student loans.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
“Jesus Christ, Camila! Just take the fuckin’ money and appreciate that you got a man who takes care of what’s his.”
There was no getting through to him when he got like this. It was the biggest problem with our relationship. Him thinking he owned me. With ownership came control, and with control came dominance…
Over me.
Sean didn’t want an equal partner, he wanted a fucking groupie who tended to his every burning desire.
Hood rat wifey material.
Umm … no thank you.
“I stopped fuckin’ wit’ you ’bout school, didn’t I? If you want to waste your time and my money than so be it. But I want you home raisin’ our babies, not some fuckin’ doctor’s, who lives in a white rich ass neighborhood in Oak fuckin’ Island.”
I gritted, clenching my jaw. “Sean, how the hell do you know