Free BWWM Romance: Crossing The Line: Interracial Romance / Wealthy Love Interest by Aisha M. Taylor Page B

don't care how well you beat a drum," she said, eying Virgil. "Or paint a picture," she said to her husband. "Elephants can paint pictures. Monkeys can beat drums."
    "Well, what do you like, Mrs. Dixon?" Shawna asked. The edge in her voice made Virgil turn and stare at her. He readied himself to jump between them if Shawna's challenge was answered with one of Melinda's infamous outbursts.
    "Money. Things that make me money and people who make me money. Which is why I like you."
    Shawna narrowed her eyes and gripped the edge of the table. "Excuse me?"
    "You have a head on your shoulders. You're in college trying to make something out of yourself. I doubt your parents raised you to be some sort of welfare queen. You don't have any plans to get knocked up by my son in an attempt to live on easy street, do you? Because if you do, we'll cut him off like gangrene. He's already a pain in my ass. No job, no future. Hopeless."
    "If you don't want him," Shawna said coolly, "I'll be more than happy to take him off your hands."
    Elliot sipped from his glass, eyes darting between the two women, and for a split second Shawna saw the resemblance between him and Virgil.
    "So your hobbies are reading and garbage collection. That's good to know. It'll take you far. Alex, I've changed my mind."
    "About what?" Virgil asked.
    "Our deal. It's off. It's obviously not going to work. You went and found one of those bullheaded―"
    "Bullheaded . . ?" Shawna repeated quietly.
    ". . . disrespectful, mouthy girls."
    Shawna’s mouth opened in astonishment. How could this woman….
    "Melinda is running for District Attorney," Elliot said simply. "She was going to use you as a multi-cultural token."
    "Whose side are you on?" Melinda asked.
    "My side. You signed a pre-nup, baby. There isn't a goddamn thing you can possibly hold over my head."
    "Dump her," Melinda said.
    "Dump me?" Shawna said, her voice climbing. Virgil leaned across the table and gripped her wrist to keep her in her seat.
    "Did he tell you he was engaged?"
    "I'm not engaged," Virgil said quickly.
    "He is supposed to marry Anna Carmichael. We even signed a legally binding document that says as much. He's not yours to have, sister."
    Shawna searched for Virgil's eyes, but he was too busy studying the tablecloth, which was now bunched nervously beneath his fingers. Men were always so full of surprises. Too many surprises. Mikki always said that was one of the top reasons she didn't bother with them. Their secrets were too much to handle. Virgil didn't deny anything else his mother said.
    "I was going to try to nullify the agreement if you were a peach, but since you turned out to be a mess, I think we'll stick with Anna. Money should marry money, anyway. That's the way things are supposed to be."
    "This is America," Virgil said. "You can't have legally binding marriage contracts in America."
    "If you want to keep your little studio, your trust fund, and your allowance, you'll marry that girl, because I know you. You've never worked a day in your life and you don't have the guts for it. You need Mommy's money to survive and do all of the stupid shit you do. Including entertaining this hag."
    Shawna didn't react. Her face was absolutely still, as if she hadn’t heard a word Melinda said. Virgil's heart both swelled and broke at the same time. He loved this woman who wasn't afraid of his mother, who was willing to go to bat for him, not flinching or backing down. But he ached at the thought that his mother and her unending viciousness would ultimately drive Shawna away.
    Elliot watched Shawna as well, nodding with what seemed to be a subtle approval of her cool demeanor.
    "Are you done, Melinda?" Elliot asked.
    "Done with what? We're conversing."
    "Only you would call that conversing. Alex, I want to buy your house."
    "He doesn't own a house," Melinda said.
    "I will pay you six and a half million dollars for it. You can have everything that's in it."
    "Dad . . ."
    "I want you to move out, son.