A Love Worth Forever

by Briann Danae

Genres: Women's Fiction; African American Romance

Synopsis

Grieving and starting over, a marketing research manager finds herself drawn to the one man she shouldn’t want in this soul-stirring, unconventional romance by BriAnn Danae.

Shyriq Hendricks is no stranger to success. As the heir to a legacy distillery and a man with wealth, status, and discipline, he’s built a life most would envy. But in the quiet moments when he’s not managing his multi-million-dollar empire, he’s aware that something is missing.

Then Nhuri Coleman steps into his life . . .

Nhuri has her reasons for keeping a low profile after relocating to Kansas City for a reset. After a chance encounter with Shyriq—the reserved but undeniably attractive owner of Great Hendrix Distillery—she accepts a job she hadn’t been pursuing, offered by a man who sees her worth before she’s ready to believe in it herself. She expects a steady check and a quiet routine, but what she experiences is undeniable soul-stirring chemistry.

Their early exchanges are strictly professional. But the way he watches, listens, and shows up without expectation catches her off guard. Just as their connection begins to deepen, the sudden death of her father pulls Nhuri back into the past. Shyriq, not one to chase, finds himself wanting more than just her time—he wants her trust. And he learns quickly that loving someone who’s learned to survive alone isn’t about fixing them. It’s about staying when everything else says leave.

Publisher: Black Odyssey Media

Print pages: 288

Sample

One

Recognition of what this really was hit her the moment they crossed the threshold. Almost every person in attendance, including Shyriq, had their phones out, recording their entrance. It wasn’t a regular date night like Cane told his girlfriend. It was their engagement party. One he had been planning for months, and by the stunned expression on her face, it was all worth it. She was worth it.

“Watch him start crying with her,” Rush, Shyriq’s younger brother, teased, making him smirk.

The smooth sounds of Case’s “Happily Ever After” crooned through the speaker system before lowering to a faint volume. On trembling legs that mimicked her hands, Autumn gripped Cane’s hand tightly as he led her to the middle of the sparkling white marble floor. Tears dripped from her cheeks as Cane was handed a mic.

“Are you for real right now?” Autumn gasped, in desperate need of an answer.

It was evident, but Cane still reassured her. “Yeah, baby. All of our family is here. You ruining your makeup,” he chuckled as she fell into him.

“I can’t believe this,” she blubbered, squeezing him tightly.

Overwhelmed, excited, and damn near on the verge of a panic attack, Autumn told herself to calm down, but that didn’t seem to work. Cane’s comforting stroke to her back did the trick, especially once he whispered exactly what she wanted to hear in her ear.

“I know you wanna see this ring,” he said, making her laugh.

Lifting her head, Autumn gave him a quick kiss and patted her face with the back of her hand. Despite there being well over a hundred guests in attendance, all they saw was each other.

Cane cleared his throat before speaking into the mic. “We almost didn’t make it up here, y’all,” he said, and everyone laughed. “Baby had to be all dramatic and ask me a million-and-one questions, but we’re good now.”

Autumn swatted his arm before he took her hand in his. She could feel his heartbeat through his palm, not out of nervousness but eagerness. He’d been waiting what seemed all his life for this moment and had to make sure it was perfect. Lovingly, he stared into her eyes and gave a speech that had Autumn ready to walk down the aisle that moment. It was so him and that was why she loved him as much as she did.

“You know I’ve wanted to change your last name since I met you. Make you really live the life of two seasons in one. Everything about you was made for me. I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful to God I am for you. He sent you specifically to me for a reason, baby. On your worst days, I want you to know that I’ma be there to cheer you up. Even when I piss you off, I know it’s still all love because you cook for a nigga.”

Autumn grinned and shook her head. She sometimes let him starve, but Cane wasn’t going to let everyone know that.

“You make life worth living, Autumn. I can’t see myself without you. You’re my reflection through and through. The reason everything in our world makes sense is because you’re in it, baby. I know we said for life, but that doesn’t really mean shit unless some action is behind those words.”

When he reached inside his pocket for the velvet box, lowered to one knee, and opened it, the hired photographer captured Autumn’s wide eyes and jaw-dropping look in 4K. The diamond solitaire ring was one she’d been gushing over for months. It cost a pretty penny but was nothing to Cane. For her, she could have whatever, and that included his last name. Baby girl already had the codes to the safe, insurance policy information, and his only son.

“Autumn Gaines, will you marry me and become Mrs. Winters?” Cane asked.

She nodded as tears continued to fall. So choked up, Autumn forgot to use her words.

“We can’t hear you!” a family member in the crowd yelled out.

“Yes. Yes! I’ll marry you!” she shouted into the mic he held out to her.

With her hand still trembling, Cane slid it on and stood to his feet. They embraced in a hug and kiss that made you think they’d just gotten married.

“Congratulations to Autumn and Cane!” the deejay said from his table. “Let’s give it up for the newly engaged couple.”

Shyriq took in the scene as rounds of applause, whistles, and chatter filled the 3,000-square-foot layout, and a pinch of regret settled in his chest. He wasn’t a jealous man, but seeing the love his best friend and fiancée shared reminded him of one he thought he’d had. Putting his ill feelings to the back of his mind, he walked over with a grin to greet the couple.

“Of course, you knew!” Autumn greeted with a squeal and slap to his chest.

Gingerly, Shyriq rubbed his pecs as if she’d done damage. “Abuse the best man, why don’t you? Congratulations, sis. Let me see how that ring looks on you.”

Happily, Autumn popped her hand in the air and wiggled her fingers. Pursed lips and a look that showed true love danced in her eyes as she showed off her new bling. It was perfect for her dainty hand, yet still a statement piece that let you know Cane hadn’t or would never half step when it came to her.

Shyriq and Cane embraced in a brotherly hug, letting Cane know his boy was proud of him.

“You deserve this happiness, bro. Congratulations. Now, you can stop blowing my line down,” Shyriq jested.

“My man, uh hunnid grand, I appreciate you for everything,” Cane told him sincerely.

“Had it not been for you introducing us, this moment wouldn’t have happened,” Autumn said.

Cane cocked his head to the side. “Not in this manner, probably, but I was cuffing you for sure, Mrs. Winters,” he said, calling her by his last name.

“I know that’s right!” Autumn’s sister yelled out, overhearing him.

Grinning, Autumn smooched his cheek. “Right, because you just couldn’t leave me alone. I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever look at a woman the way you’re looking at her,” Rush said with a shake of his head. He sported a grin, but he meant those words.

“Yeah, until you are on a bent knee like I was,” Cane told him.

“Never. Congrats, though. Long as Autumn is happy, that’s what matters,” Rush said as he gave her a quick hug and dapped up Cane.

Shyriq could remember thinking the same thing, then found himself in the exact position Cane had just been in. Bended knee, professing his love for a woman he just knew he would spend the rest of his life with. It was funny how life worked out . . . or, in his case, didn’t.

As the couple made their rounds around the room, Shyriq made himself useful by engaging in conversation that he was fluent in. No matter the occasion, talks of future business endeavors, ways to make more money, and giving back to his community were always discussions Shyriq found himself in. Usually, he didn’t mind it. Tonight was different, though.

“I’m going to grab a drink from the bar. We can continue this conversation sometime next week,” he told the owner of Sip, a local coffee shop that Autumn loved and visited frequently.

Ever observant, Cane made it his duty to invite everyone he knew his woman would want to experience this moment. He’d picked her up so many cups of coffee from the place that over the years, Cane decided to become a silent partner in the company. Now, Autumn sipped for free and got paid to do so.

Making his way to one of the three bars stationed, Shyriq waited behind two other guests. On most evenings, especially recently, his nights ended with a strong drink on the rocks—preferably something dark. The duo ahead of him placed money in the tip jar before moving along.

“Hi. What can I get for you this evening? We have two signature drinks, or would you prefer something else?”

The woman’s chipper voice isn’t what caught Shyriq by surprise. She was at work and had to be polite. At least fake like she was. What had him not giving her an answer was her beauty. He’d come across many beautiful women in his thirty-five years, but the one standing before him was rare, and he was intrigued.

His brooding eyes drank in her mocha-brown skin, tight, slanted-hooded eyes, and round button nose. Her resting bitch face as she waited for his order made him wonder what she was thinking about. Shyriq’s gaze was so intense that she was sure he already knew her thoughts. They were as loud as the music playing over the speakers.

Her lips, ones that he could stare at forever, moved, but he had no idea what she’d said. They were plump and perfect, as if she’d gone to the best dermatologist, but she never had. Her top lip was slightly bigger than the bottom and shades darker. They fit her triangular-shaped face to perfection and had Shyriq wondering what her favorite lipstick to buy was. Shit he never before cared to ask a woman about suddenly had become relevant, and he didn’t even know her name.

He’d assessed her features from the chest up in ten seconds flat. Her silk-pressed hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, showcasing a face he knew he’d store to memory for later use if need be. As gorgeous as she was, Shyriq noticed the fatigue in her posture and eyes. Though her eyes were naturally slanted, he knew what it looked like when someone hadn’t had any rest and needed it badly.

When his eyes did land on the embroidery on her crisp white button-down, Rush bumped into his arm. Shyriq slowly turned his head his brother’s way, snapping him out of the brown sugar haze he’d fallen into.

“Damn, what you order?” Rush questioned.

“He hasn’t ordered yet. Are you sure you need this drink?”

Shyriq’s right cheek lifted slightly as he captured her name. “I do, Nhuri. What do you suggest? I prefer dark and strong. Something that’ll make me feel the burn but goes down smooth.”

Her name falling from his lips almost sidetracked Nhuri. Had it not been for how sinfully fine he was, she would’ve forgotten about him gawking at her like she was a special drink on the menu. His voice was powerful yet soothing as well. Just the perfect pitch to lull you to sleep or to an orgasm and through it before delivering another. Nhuri shook away her lewd thoughts. She was on the clock and getting paid a more-than-excellent hourly wage to serve drinks, so that’s what she did. She jumped right back into her role as a sweet bartender who was dead tired and asked him a question.

“Long day?”

“Try long week,” Shyriq told her.

Nhuri’s eyes scanned the numerous bottles of brown liquor in search of one of her favorites. Thanks to her late father, she too loved a dark drink on the rocks. Preferably whiskey—the Nine Oak brand. Grabbing the round bottle, Nhuri held it up for him to see.

“This is one of my favorites. It’s strong enough to make you reconsider but smooth and slightly sweet, so you’ll finish the glass and be glad you did.”

Shyriq’s head nodded forward, encouraging her to pour him a glass. No plastic cups were given at such an event. The glass tumblers had Autumn and Cane’s names across them in a fancy white cursive font and were gifts to their guests. Nhuri could only imagine what the wedding would look like.

Handing him the glass and a napkin, Nhuri waited to see what he thought. It was her turn to stare, and she did so without shame. Her dark brown eyes trekked every inch of him—and there was a lot. His large, manicured hands and feet were a true reflection of his height. Shyriq was tall as hell, at least compared to most people. Not Nhuri, though. She guessed that he stood about six feet four to her five foot ten stature.

Shyriq’s height wasn’t what made him stand out, nor was it his inviting walnut-colored eyes and smooth cinnamon-hued complexion. It was his precisely lined mustache that led to a thickly shaped beard that stretched outward from his face instead of down. It was a good three inches, and Nhuri knew it was soft to touch just from her eye examination. It looked as soft as his lips, which pressed firmly into the rim of the tumbler.

Nhuri unknowingly held her breath as he almost consumed every drop of the amber liquor. She never wanted to be a glass so bad in her life. Homed in on every move he made, she swallowed hard at the thick veins aligning his hand as it cupped the glass. Ice clinked gently as Shyriq whirled the remainder and nodded his head. He approved, and Nhuri exhaled.

“Great taste. Thank you for choosing for me,” he told her.

“No problem. Glad you enjoyed it,” Nhuri replied. “I’ll be here all night if you need another.”

Shyriq kept that in mind as he fetched his wallet. Pulling out a crisp hundred-dollar bill, he placed it in her jar. Nhuri watched the transaction with a tight chest before her eyes connected with his. She was silently asking him why he’d tipped her that much, but dared not utter the question. She didn’t have to because, again, Shyriq could hear her thoughts.

“For holding up your line. Have a good night,” he told her and walked off, finally letting other guests into her space.

Surprisingly, Shyriq wanted to tell her she was off the clock for the rest of the night so he could pick her brain. Not about business, but to find out who she was. How she became a bartender and what she knew about whiskey . . . his brand to be exact. Nhuri had no idea who the man was she’d just encountered, but Shyriq was sure she’d never forget him.



Running a family-owned business wasn’t for the weak. Shyriq’s schedule for the week was unusually busy, but he knew why. It was peak season, and their company was in high demand. Rarely did he have a day where his mind wasn’t on the business, and today was one of those days. Inside his office at the Great Hendrix Co. headquarters building, Shyriq sat towering over his desk with squinted eyes focused on his desktop screen.

Stop squinting and put those glasses on, Shy.

He heard his mother’s voice without her being physically present. Reaching inside his fifty-inch natural oak desk, Shyriq grabbed the blue lens frames and slid them onto his face. They’d been there since the last time he wore them, which was weeks ago, and the reason a headache was making an appearance. Shyriq exhaled, feeling the strain ease up immediately. Hours spent looking at reports, emails, business proposals, sales, and a plethora of other information was how Shyriq kept their million-dollar business afloat, becoming the first millionaire in their family. The duties didn’t belong solely to him but his family and employees as well. Everyone contributed to GHC’s success.

The Hendrix family was the first Black family in Missouri to own a whiskey distillery. Shyriq’s great-grandfather, Richard, had come into a nice amount of money in the mid-nineteen-forties and knew he wanted a business to pass down to his children’s children. Richard Hendrix had kept his word and did just that.

He passed away when Shyriq was thirteen. By then, he had lived a life that was pleasing not only to himself but also to God as well. Richard enjoyed the fruits of his labor, along with his wife. Long after, generations would eat off of what he built, and Shyriq would ensure it. He’d been attached to his great-grandfather’s hip when he learned to walk at nine months. By age seven, Shyriq knew every step it took to produce whiskey, down to the names of the ingredients he studied as if they’d be on a spelling test.

Many assumed the business was handed to him, and in a sense, it was. Shyriq had been the one to take Great Hendrix Co. from a successful moneymaking company to a million-dollar one in less than four years. When he became the owner at twenty-seven, he gave himself three years to expand to the next level and hit that million-dollar mark. Beyond the connections it took to get there, Shyriq was disciplined. There wasn’t anything he wanted that he couldn’t get, no matter how long it took. Once he had his mind set on a goal, he didn’t stop working toward it until he achieved it, and that’s how he’d been his entire life.

So, even though it wasn’t likely for him to be at the office on a Wednesday evening, here he was, reading over a contract that needed minor corrections before he signed his name. Minor mistakes led to major problems, and Shyriq wasn’t a fan of those, even though he had the money to solve them. He preferred for things to go accordingly the first time. Meticulously, his eyes scanned the document before he sent over the email. It gave precise instructions on what needed to be changed, and he hoped, for their sake, that they would follow them.

Just as he shut down his computer for the day and exhaled, the phone on his desk gave a low double beep, indicating that the front desk was trying to reach him. Shyriq glanced at the stainless gold watch on his wrist. The hands displayed five thirty-five. He hit the speaker button and spoke.

“Yes?”

“Cara is on line two, sir,” Lamont, one of the male interns, told him.

Shyriq couldn’t help but wonder what Cara wanted and how she knew he was at the office. Timing was everything because had she called a minute later, she would’ve missed him.

“Thank you. Put her through,” Shyriq told him before picking up the phone. “Cara, how are you?”

“Mr. Hendrix, hi,” she rushed out. “How are you?”

“Great. Wrapping up my day. What can I do for you? Did something go wrong during the meeting?”

As the marketing director for GHC, Cara was out of town on a three-day business trip that was vital to the next step Shyriq wanted to take for the company. She’d been with them for over a decade, having witnessed many of the ups and downs. Yet, they were still striving and at their best right now.

“No, no,” she rushed out as she exited the elevator, heading toward her hotel room. “The meeting went amazing, actually. I’ll be emailing my minutes over within the hour.”

Shyriq was happy to hear that. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Cara got to her reason for calling. “I know you’re a busy man.”

“I am,” he agreed.

“And I apologize in advance, but I need a favor.”

Shyriq almost chuckled. He wasn’t new to doing favors, but it was a rarity for someone to come right out and ask for one. They’d typically beat around the bush, so for Cara to be asking, he knew it was something personal.

“Is this favor business related?” he asked.

“Yes, and somewhat personal. Something is wrong with Natalia. I’m not sure what, but I can sense it. I would check on her myself, but I’m out of town.”

“Isn’t she with you?”

Cara hesitated with her reply. “No. I didn’t want to bother you with something I thought I could handle. She canceled at the last minute, so I’m here alone.”

Shyriq leaned back in his chair and extended his legs. Natalia was right under Cara as the research marketing manager. She’d been in the position for five years now and was damn good at her job. She was better than good and had been a key component to certain deals being offered and closed on over the last few years.

Even though Shyriq was the owner and employed hundreds of people, he didn’t move how most people expected someone of his caliber to. Nor were his work ethics those of other million-dollar companies. Working for a family-operated business could be tricky, especially with the rumors Shyriq has heard about his family over the years. Yet, many of the employees were long-tenured, received the best benefits, got paid holidays off, and bonuses that were raved about for months.

While Richard’s mission was to secure his family’s legacy, Shyriq wanted the same for those who worked for them. Comfortability and making an honest living was a priority to him. In doing so, GHC operated like one big family. So he could understand Cara’s concern. What she expected him to do was the question.

“Can’t you give her a phone call?” he questioned.

“I have. We talked before I left, and I could tell she was holding something back. Until I can lay eyes on her, it will bother me.”

Shyriq could tell by Cara’s slightly cracked voice that it would. To someone else, doing a wellness check on one of his employees may have been beneath him. Not to Shyriq. He didn’t know Natalia personally but was very fond of what she’d brought to the company. To ease Cara’s worries, he added the reminder to his note’s app on his phone.

“I’ll stop by to check on her. Is she married?”

Shyriq didn’t want to walk in on something that may have been a domestic situation. Sometimes, people wanted to keep things to themselves. Checking on another man’s wife was something he promised never to do, and he prayed it wasn’t a situation where he’d have to lay hands on a man for disrespecting a woman. Shyriq would gladly do so.

“No, but she does have a boyfriend and a daughter. Please don’t tell her I called you.”

“I won’t. Don’t forget to send the minutes over from the meeting,” he told her, removing his glasses and tucking them in his desk before standing.

“I’m pulling them up now. Thank you, Mr. Hendrix. I really appreciate this favor.”

“No problem,” he said. “See you when you return.”

He sent a text message to his assistant requesting Natalia’s home address. Shyriq hoped this one favor he did wasn’t a mistake. Before he could make it to the elevator after closing his office door, which automatically locked, his personal cell phone rang. Seeing his lawyer’s name gave him an instant headache. One he’d successfully dodged until now.

“King, I hope you’re calling me with good news,” Shyriq answered.

“I wish I was. Xena is requesting spousal support.”

Shyriq’s nostrils flared. Nothing in this world could ruffle his feathers more than someone who fucked with his money and intelligence. Xena had to be out of her rabid-ass mind to think he was paying her when she cheated on him.

“Absolutely not. Her lawyer is as delusional as she is for even moving forward. . .