CHAPTER 1
Jackie looked around her sprawling, well-manicured backyard and let out a pleased sigh. The DJ was jamming. Drinks were flowing. The food, of course, was delicious; her baked beans were no doubt the highlight. The weather was perfect with a hint of fall in the air. The photographer she’d hired was standing by, and friends and family were bursting with anticipation. Under the guise of her annual cookout, Jackie had pulled off the most epic surprise engagement party for her favorite cousin, Gideon, and her best friend, Tanika.
Jackie was thrilled at the fact that her best friend was going to officially become family, and that her cousin had found love after the loss of his first wife. Their love story, while a little supernaturally freaky, had been one for the ages. Everything was damn-near perfect, until Jackie’s eyes landed on the largest piece of shit in her yard—one that her dog PeeWee hadn’t created.
Antonio. Fucking. Steele.
Tanika had just asked Jackie if she could get the DJ to play something other than trap music, when Jackie turned and locked eyes withhim. And the asshole had the nerve to smile, showing those goddamned dimples. Jackie held up a finger and called back to Tanika. “On second thought, get Mya to do it. I see a snake whose head I need to cut off.”
Jackie made her way across her lawn, marching like Sophia fromThe Color Purple. When she reached Antonio, Jackie looked up at him, straining her neck. At barely 5’ 2”, everyone was tall compared to Jackie, but Antonio wasimpossiblytall.
“The trash gets picked up on Tuesdays. So, you’re a little early, Antonio,” said Jackie, forgoing any cordial greetings. He knew the deal.
“Hello to you, too, Jacqueline,” Antonio laughed, showing all thirty-two of his perfect teeth. “You look incredible.”
Jackie rolled her eyes. “Why are you in Atlanta and not in L.A. making someone else’s life miserable?”
“PJ invited me as his guest. I was in town on business.” He gestured to his left, where Jackie’s client PJ Dawson was nursing a beer. “Besides, it would be a crime to leave town without trying these world-famous baked beans I keep hearing about.”
Jackie narrowed her eyes. What business did Antonio have in Atlanta? She was suspicious but refrained from inquiring further. “First of all, my baked beans are forfriends. You are not my friend. And secondly”—Jackie cut her eyes to PJ—“really, PJ? After all that drama, you still choose to hang out with this clown?”
PJ sighed, throwing up his hands. “Damn, Jackie. I thought you and Antonio squashed the beef. Can’t we all just be cool?”
“Oh, I don’t squash beef with people who try to undermine me professionally. Like I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
Antonio put his hand over his broad chest. “I meant no disrespect, Jackie. I just wanted to make sure that PJ got what he was worth.”
“And you didn’t think I could do that? I’ve brokered major deals across every major sport in this country. I have more clients than you, Steele. I’ve been PJ’s agent for two fucking years, and suddenly, you have this vested interest? His mother hiredme, not you! You snooze, you lose. You need to get that shit through your pretty little head and stop trying to poach my client!” Jackie pointed her almond-tipped nail into his chest. His very hard, defined chest.Jesus…
Antonio smirked. “I love it when you get mad. Your nose wrinkles up like a little kitten’s.”
“I hate cats.” Jackie dug her nail deeper into Antonio’s chest, and he only slightly winced. If Jackie didn’t know any better, she’d think Antonio was enjoying this. In fact, he looked like he was about to cream his pants. What was he? A sadist? “Stay the hell away from my clients, Steele.”
Antonio finally took a step back, out of her nail’s way. “Listen: I’m not trying to poach him. I’m just…” He grabbed a cocktail from a passing tray and took a sip, squinting at its sweetness. “Forget it.”
Jackie raised a brow. “You know what. I don’t know what your angle is, and I don’t care. But I know one thing. If I hear about you pulling another stunt like you did with New Balance—whether with PJ or any of my other clients—I’ll instruct PeeWee to gnaw your balls like a chew toy.” She gestured toward her French bulldog, who was busy destroying a stick.
“Ouch,” laughed PJ, nearly choking on his beer.
“Damn.” Antonio frowned. “You ain’t have to talk about my balls, Jackie. Unless—”
