I leaned back in my chair, taking an aggravated breath while my heart pounded.
“What administrator? I didn’t sign off on any new changes to this account since it was set up.”
“You were never listed as an administrator. Just the primary beneficiary. It’s a full transaction freeze that I’m not allowed to override. “You’ll need to speak with Louis Heavy. I can patch you through to his office.”
“Alright, but give me his number first.”I sat up in my chair, pulling a pen and steno pad in front of me to jot down the name and number before he transferred me.
“I had to step out of a meeting to answer this call, so I’m going to keep it brief. Until that divorce is final, you won’t move shit out of any of your offshore accounts.”
“Who the fuck is this?”I fumed, gripping the phone so tight I could feel the plastic crack in my grasp.
“The nigga that’s trying to marry your wife, and I want a spring wedding so she can incorporate all of the light and romantic shades of purple. Lilac seems to be her favorite of them all. I don’t have time to fuck around if I’m going to make that happen. Give her whatever the fuck she asked for so the divorce can be done. Until then, you can see how she felt when a motha fucka was trying to put financial pressure on her to cave. I’m the money man that Vincent loves to boast about. I guess we are connected in more ways than one.”The smug motha fucka ranted.
I could feel the casual arrogance in his tone as he laughed and left me with the dial tone. Launching the phone at the wall, it shattered upon impact, sending pieces of plastic and wire in all directions.
“What the fuck happened?” My dad wheezed.
“That motha fucka that Marissa is dealing with got our accounts frozen.”
“What?” He wheezed, pausing to take a few slow deep breaths. I hopped out of the chair, pacing the floor while placing a call to Vincent on my iPhone.
“Wassup?”He answered the phone with a bunch of commotion in the background.
“Do you know who Yaseer Haynes is?”
“Yeah, that’s the money man who got all of our shit right in the Caymans. Why? Somebody fucking with him? He’s under my protection. The nigga work my money like magic. I can’t have nobody fucking with that,”he explained.
“I was just asking. I’ll hit you later. I gotta go.”
I hung up before he could say shit else. With my hands on top of my head, I paced the floor. My father could read the panic on my face and instantly went in on me.
“You gotta be one of the stupidest motha fuckas walking earth! How did the majority of our money get tied up to the point that we can’t access it, but the nigga your wife is fucking can? I swear to God if your mother would forgive me for dumping you in a river, I would,” he snarled and whizzed across my office like a bat out of hell.
“AGHHHHH!” I groaned when he ran over my right foot on his way out. Hopping back, I grabbed the wall to catch my balance because he went straight over my toes. Before I could pull my shoes off to examine my foot, glass shattering sounded in the hallway.
I limped towards the door and caught the tail end of his dramatics. His wheelchair clipped the corner of the wall, knocking over the second vase at the end of the hallway. It fell in slow motion, shattering once it hit the ground, sending the faux lavender flowers and glass in all directions.
“You better fix this shit! In the meantime, send the money from one of your accounts since this is your fuck up!” He rasped, rolling out of my sight.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Marissa Bentley
“Are you outside?”
“Yeah, I’m going to wait in the car. Just come out when you’re ready.”
“I’m coming down now,” I notified him before disconnecting the call.
Descending the stairs with my Rays gear on, I was ready for our first official family event. Today was the day that Quincy chose to cash in on the offer for a luxury suite at a Rays game. It was Game Four of the League Championship Series, and we were down one game in the series. The men were optimistic, but I was just going for time with Yaseer and my boys. I could care less either way.
I kept it simple in a Rays shirt, blue biker shorts, and a pair of sneakers. Grabbing my purse off the kitchen counter, I set the alarm and stepped outside. It was the middle of October, and it was still hot as fuck out here. I rounded the corner for my driveway and paused when Yaseer’s handsome face came into view. He was leaning up against one of the two ghost purple Bentleys parked in my driveway. The Bentayga screamed power,and the Continental GT whispered luxury. Both cars had lilac bows on the hood, so I knew they were gifts for me.
“Yaseer!” I shrieked, sprinting down the walkway.
“You like them?” He asked all cool like he wasn’t posted up with two luxury cars on a random Saturday evening.
“I love them,” I breathed. “But Yaseer… you don’t have to do this. It’s too much.”
