Free A LaLa Land Addiction by Ashley Antoinette

would grow and time would change her, the same way it had done to Tan. He couldn’t take the risk. Betting on Bleu to hold him down would be foolish. He knew it; he just didn’t want to admit it. He couldn’t take a chance on Bleu. Not when there was so much at stake. It pained him to speak his next words.
    â€œWe have a deal,” Iman agreed.
    â€œI don’t need to remind you that discretion is important. My daughter doesn’t need to know about business between men,” Sandoza reminded Iman.
    Iman nodded. “I’m just a man trying to make his marriage work,” Iman agreed.
    â€œI’ll have a talk with Marcincio,” Sandoza said.
    â€œHe won’t be happy,” Iman said.
    â€œNo, but it is not his decision to make,” Sandoza replied.
    Iman stood and Sandoza did as well. He looked at his mentor, his father-in-law, sympathetically. He seemed to have aged overnight. Iman didn’t know exactly what ailed Sandoza. He knew Sandoza wasn’t preparing for his own demise for nothing. Iman wasn’t eager to bury his mentor, but should the unspeakable occur … he would be ready to take the throne.

 
    7
    Iman stared out of the window of his private plane as it descended over the City of Angels. These were his streets, his territory. He had muscled his way to the top of L.A.’s cocaine trade, and as he sat overlooking it he felt godlike. Sandoza had placed so much power in his hands that most men never attained. He should have been ecstatic. He should have been plotting moves to expand toward the East Coast and even areas of the South, but he couldn’t think clearly. He had sold a piece of his soul to secure his place on the throne. He would be Sandoza’s successor, but it had come at a hefty price.
    Iman was stoic as the plane landed and he headed for his waiting bulletproof SUV. He slid inside as the driver closed the door. Iman didn’t like the “ain’t shit” feeling that came with discarding Bleu. To just throw her away felt wrong, but Sandoza’s terms were clear. Iman gave his driver the address of his L.A. condo. He was rushing home to the wrong woman and he knew it, but still he pressed forward. It took him an hour to even talk himself out of the car once he arrived. He found himself at Tan’s doorstep. He had the key. He could have easily entered the condo, but instead he rang the bell. When she opened it her beauty stunned him. She was prepared for bed. Her plain face glowed and her hair was pulled up into a messy topknot.
    â€œThose shirts always did look better on you,” he said with a short smile as he noticed she still slept in his button-down oxford shirt and tall socks.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” she asked with a smile. “How was Tijuana? Did you see Papa?”
    â€œI saw him. He’s okay,” Iman lied.
    â€œReally?” Tan asked, frowning in confusion. “Are you sure?”
    â€œI’m sure,” Iman confirmed.
    â€œThank God,” she whispered as she played with the diamond cross necklace around her neck. She sighed in relief. “You want to come in?” she asked. She could see despair in Iman’s eyes. She had known him long enough to notice his distress, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
    â€œI want to come home, Tan.”
    There. He had said it. He couldn’t change his mind. She recoiled in shock as he walked into the condo without allowing her to respond. He knew there was no need to wait for permission. She wanted him here.
    â€œI don’t understand. What does this mean? A few days ago you had divorce papers sent to me and now—”
    â€œNow I want my wife back,” Iman finished for her. The words in his mouth tasted like vinegar. All he could think of was Bleu.
    â€œAnd the bitch you had in my house? What about that situation?” Tan asked.
    â€œIt’s done,” Iman replied. “That’s