Still Addicted to You

by Porscha Sterling

Genres: Crime Fiction

Synopsis

Bestselling author and SHEEN Magazine Literary Excellence Award-winner Porscha Sterling returns with a sexy and scandalous sequel featuring the adulterous heiress Sage McMillian as she vows to destroy anything that stands in the way of fixing her broken marriage to former street king Dom “Ink” Richardson…

Some say the opposite of love is hate. Others say it’s indifference. For Sage McMillian, the oppositeof love is revenge.

A loveless marriage was not on the list of things Sage McMillian ever thought she would fight for. But now she’s questioning the life she built with Dom “Ink” Richardson, the former street king for whom she risked everything, her privileged life as the heir to an empire, her reputation, and her heart.

In Sage’s weakest moment, another man, Malik, comes on the scene, bringing renewed hopes of romance and adventure. It feels like the love of a lifetime, and Sage finds herself falling for him. Even when Ink grows suspicious, she can't stop herself. And then it’s too late. By the time Sage realizes Malik isn't the man she thought he was, she’s lost her family and Ink has moved on.

However, Sage is not accustomed to “letting go.” And she doesn’t intend to start now. In fact, quite the opposite. Fueled by the revenge building in her broken heart, Sage sets her sights on getting back everything that was taken away from her and annihilating anything—and anyone—standing in her way.

Release date: June 30, 2020

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 256

Sample

The dark overcast sky mirrored the heaviness that settled within me, a foreboding omen of the day’s proceedings. Peering out from the tinted windows of the bulletproof Escalade SUV, I gazed at the throngs of people gathered near the entrance of the courthouse. The sight of raised cameras and microphones created a ripple of anticipation throughout the crowd, their attention solely focused on me: a man they deemed to be a murderous monster.

Déjà vu washed over me like a wave crashing against the shore with a vengeance. Once again, I was the most hated man in the world, facing the death penalty for a crime I never committed. The only difference was that this time, I wasn’t the sole defendant.

“There’s Sage,” Dejah remarked from beside me, her voice loaded with a mixture of relief and apprehension. “It’s good she’s going in first. The press will be obsessed with her and then we can ease in right behind without being noticed.”

Leaning closer to the window, I followed her gaze towards the front of the courthouse. The crowd seemed to part in reverence as Sage, accompanied by her entourage of bodyguards and legal team, strode through their midst. She exuded an air of regality, almost angelic in her pristine white attire contrasting the image the media had painted of her as a deranged sociopath. It wasn’t unlike the image I had of her.

Sage was a master of manipulation, a cunning and ruthless woman who always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else, her true intentions veiled by beauty and intelligence. She usually won someone over with one of these two characteristics, and it didn’t take her long to do it.

“She looks so pure,” Dejah murmured, a tinge of admiration coloring her voice.

Frowning, I turned to my wife, Sage, who had seemingly chosen to wear a costume of madness for the occasion. Then, my gaze returned to Dejah, her eyes glazed with dreamy admiration. It was a reminder that people often saw what they wanted to see, blind to the truth that lay beneath the surface.

“She’s definitely up to something.” Dejah voiced my own thoughts, her words a mirror of my concerns. “Nothing Sage does is coincidental or accidental. She’s making a statement by wearing all that white.”

I clenched my teeth, my resentment towards Sage surging to the surface. Though there was no one on Earth I hated more than her, I had to admit she was the most intelligent and heartless woman I’d ever met. Sage was a breed of woman I’d never come across before, and I hoped to God she’d never cross my path again. She was the type who possessed an almost godlike quality to put a plan in motion and see it to the end, by all means necessary. The only problem being that, currently, every plan she had in mind led to ruining me.

“It’s all a tactic,” Dejah continued. “She’s fully aware of the commentary surrounding her, the portrayal of her as a malignant narcissist. And yet, she dresses in pure white, mocking them, asserting her control over the narrative. She toys with their perceptions, taunting them. That’s one bad bitch.”

A snort escaped me as I contemplated Dejah’s assessment. It was an accurate depiction of Sage’s calculated nature. For five years, I had managed to escape being the focus of her anger, despite making it obvious that I wanted nothing to do with her. But when I fell in love with another woman, everything changed. That was the one betrayal Sage refused to forgive.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” I muttered. “She’s not worth our attention.”

“Actually, she is,” Dejah piped up with a quick reminder. “She’s your codefendant. They think you both committed murder—together. Whatever the ruling is on her is directly tied to you. You should be working with her attorney. You need to know what they are going to use for her defense.”

This time it was me with the reminder. “We already tried that. Her team refuses to cooperate with mine. They said that if I’m as innocent as I claim, I should have no issues with pleading my case,” I explained, bitterness tainting my words as I recalled the fruitless attempts to establish any sort of alliance with Sage’s legal team.

Dejah’s expression twisted with disgust. “And she’s supposed to be your wife. Shouldn’t she be doing everything in her power to help you? You have children together.”

My lips pressed into a tight line as I grappled with the complexity of my relationship with Sage. To the world, she was a loyal and loving wife, a strong and successful businesswoman. But I knew the darkness that lurked within her. The side that was cold, calculating, and sadistic.

“She’s protecting her own interests. Her company, her father’s legacy—it’s all tied to her image,” I explained, my voice tinged with bitterness. “Separating herself from me is a strategic move for this trial. Half the country already believes I murdered my ex-wife. Convincing them I murdered my mistress won’t be a stretch.”

Dejah exhaled heavily, her features contorted with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “It’s unbelievable. She should be standing by your side, fighting for your innocence.”

I pressed my hand against my face, a futile attempt to stave off the weariness that threatened to consume me. Dejah’s perception of Sage was limited to the persona she presented to the world. Like most people, she was caught up by the images Sage presented as a shrewd businesswoman and caring philanthropist who used her money and resources to make a difference in the world. It was a manipulation that she greatly benefitted from.

“We should go in now,” Dejah suggested, her voice firm with determination. “We need to make sure you’re settled before the celebrity guests start arriving.”

The notion of my connections in the entertainment industry risking their own careers to support me would’ve lifted a fraction of the weight off my shoulders. But unlike Dejah, I already knew that it wasn’t happening. I was like a plague to avoid. No one wanted to be associated with me.

“Take a deep breath,” Dejah coached, her fingers deftly fastening the buttons of her suit jacket. “We have a long day ahead but remember what I said. Trust in the system. The evidence will show your innocence. Only a crazy person would want to put an innocent man in prison.”

I didn’t share her views. The faith I once had in the justice system had been shattered. My innocence had been proven once, yet here I stood again, accused of murdering another woman whose only crime was being associated with me.

“Right now, I’d put my faith in anything,” I admitted, my voice laced with resignation.

Pulling my coat tightly around me, I waited as my driver appeared, sheltering me beneath an umbrella. Within moments of stepping out, the chaos erupted. Cameras flashed, voices jeered, and a torrent of insults rained down upon me. The cacophony of anger and disgust was deafening.

In less than an hour, I would face a jury, seated next to my estranged wife, as the prosecutor sought to condemn me to a life behind bars. But this time, Sage was not by my side—she was against me. And as the chaos swirled around me, I couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be an escape from the prison that had now become my reality.

Three Months Earlier

Have you ever witnessed the life drain from someone’s eyes?

It’s a truly mesmerizing sight, a privileged moment, only a few can claim. The transition from vibrant to lifeless, from clarity to emptiness—it’s like watching a captivating magic trick unfold right in front of you.

The eyes, they decay so quickly, did you know? That’s why people rush to close them when someone dies with them open. It’s not for the appearance of peace, as some might think, but to spare everyone the haunting image of white, filmy orbs staring back at them.

“Sage, are you coming?” My husband’s voice filtered through the closed bathroom door, jolting me back to the present.

“Yes!” I called out, my voice carrying through the locked room. “Just give me three minutes to finish getting dressed!”

Silence followed my response—typical. These days, Ink barely said three words to me at a time, if he spoke to me at all. His disdain for me was palpable, though he’d never admit it. Deep down, he wanted a family just as much as I did. And that was the only reason he decided to stay.

Puckering my lips, I leaned over the sink and met my own gaze in the mirror. It was so dim and lifeless. My eyes, once vibrant and full of spark, now resembled faded green bulbs on a neglected Christmas tree. The kind you save for last, using them only to fill in the gaps because they’ve lost their luster.

Sometimes I wondered how I could feel so empty inside while my body continued to carry the weight of life. On most days, I felt hollow. As if someone could scream down my throat, and their voice would echo back, like there was nothing at all inside.

“Sage, c’mon!” Ink’s voice grew impatient, accompanied by insistent knocking on the door. “We need to leave now.”

With a heavy sigh, I quickly finished applying my makeup, hoping it would work enough magic to help me make it through the day.

It was the day that Tamiyah was leaving for boarding school, a decision I deeply regretted having made. But I knew it was the right choice because for me boarding school had been a saving grace when life at home began to feel toxic.

I walked out of my room feeling like I was standing on stilts even though I’d swapped out my heels for tennis shoes. I decided that playing it casual for the day was the perfect choice. Although nearly five years had passed since the day Ink was found innocent of murdering Tami, that did nothing to lower our level of scrutiny. The final judgment on the case only heightened his celebrity status, which was sometimes a good thing and other times bad. It felt like we were always on full display, always being watched and judged. Or maybe that was just the way I felt because Ink was always spying on me.

“It’s about time you joined us. We should’ve left thirty minutes ago,” Ink said sharply as soon as I stepped into the living room.

As always, his eyes were elsewhere—fixed on Jace, our four-year-old. He lavished his attention on our son but barely spared me a glance. I tried to force a smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

“I needed a moment to compose myself,” I replied, struggling to keep my lips from trembling. “Today is tough for me. It’s Miyah’s moving day.”

“It’s a tough day for all of us.” Ink finally looked up, his words dripping with an underlying reproach that spoke volumes about his true feelings. “We’re all making sacrifices, but we agreed it’s for the best.”

I pressed my lips together, holding back the words in my mind. Tamiyah’s departure was going to be hard on everyone, but it cut deepest for me. She was my only ally in the house.

Ink devoted himself to both kids, but when it came to me, his love and affection felt as cold as an iceberg. Jace, my biological child, made it clear from the beginning that I was nothing more than a vessel for his existence. He only had eyes for his father.

With Tamiyah gone, I could be buried in the basement for a week before they even noticed my absence. To them, I was useful only for stocking the fridge and ensuring an endless supply of toilet paper.

Was this the life I fought so hard for? The life I was willing to kill for?

It didn’t feel like it. I had committed unforgivable acts in the name of love, things that sometimes made it hard to even forgive myself for. Yet, in the end, I believed those choices were the right ones. They were necessary for everyone involved.

A long time ago, a woman loved a man so fiercely that she was willing to do anything for him, even kill. I was that woman, and Ink was that man. I took the life of his ex-wife to protect him and Tamiyah. If given the choice, I would do it all over again. In my mind, it was an act of selflessness, doing what needed to be done.

But was this my reward?

Shaking off the unanswerable questions in my mind, I focused my attention on quickly packing a snack bag for the journey. Ink was health-conscious, needing to maintain his physique for TV, so fast food stops were out of the question. I decided to put my attention on that instead. These days, it was easier to figure out what to eat than to navigate the complexities of my life.

It was a four-hour drive to the airport, where the first-year students at Calvin’s Preparatory School for Girls were supposed to meet up. Once there, we would watch Tamiyah board the private plane alongside the girls who would become her closest friends. My only wish being that she was lucky enough to find a friend as special to her as Lola was to me. We didn’t talk much these days, but at the very least, she answered whenever I called.

“Mimi Sage, are you okay?” Tamiyah’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned to face her, forcing a smile onto my face.

At only eleven-years-old, Tamiyah was a stunning child. I wasn’t sure how her biological father looked, but she must’ve gotten her looks from him. She looked nothing like Tami—thankfully.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I replied, delivering the rehearsed response that rolled effortlessly off my tongue. But then, I paused and placed down the knife, wiping my brow with my apron before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Actually … no,” I admitted, tears welling in my eyes. “No, I’m not okay. My favorite girl is leaving us today for boarding school. But I know it’s for the best. You’re a beautiful soul, Miyah, and people like you are a gift to the world. You need to spread your wings. It would be selfish of me to hold you back.”

Tamiyah nodded, her own tears glistening. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms tightly around me.

“I love you, Mimi Sage,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” I replied, with my own voice trembling. “More than you’ll ever know. I would do anything in this world for your happiness.”

And I meant that more than anything I’d ever said.

The drive back home was agonizingly quiet. Saying goodbye to Tamiyah had been bittersweet, but the atmosphere during the journey back was nothing short of torture.

“The first break won’t be for another three months, around Thanksgiving, when we get to see her again,” I said, attempting to break the silence.

“Don’t talk so loud,” Ink snapped, his response laced with irritation. “Jace is sleeping.”

I frowned, puzzled by his reaction. “I wasn’t speaking loudly, and it’s too late for him to be sleeping anyway. Maybe I should wake him up.”

Before I could reach out to Jace, Ink slapped my hand away.

“Don’t touch him!” he snapped, shoving my arm aside. “Leave him alone. He …”

I swallowed hard, the words he left unsaid hanging heavy in the air. He resented Jace’s bond with me, an invisible wedge driven between us. In Ink’s eyes, I was a nuisance, an inconsequential figure in his life.

Was this the life I fought for? The life I was willing to kill for?

As we continued, questions swirled in my mind, but there were no easy answers. Only the knowledge that my sacrifices, my darkest acts, were done out of love. The truth was that love demanded sacrifices that not everyone can understand.

“I wanna know why motherfuckers think that all a woman wants from them is money,” Dejah complained, her voice filled with frustration.

“I can pay my own damn bills, take myself on trips, and buy whatever I need. Why do motherfuckers think that throwing money at us is enough? Women are not toddlers! You can’t buy our happiness and satisfaction with toys.”

“Maybe the problem is that you’re busy dating ‘motherfuckers’ instead of a real man.”

Snickering a little, I dabbed my tattoo gun into the black ink and focused on the intricate outline I was working on. The woman in my chair shifted slightly, and I paused to let her readjust before continuing. Dejah, my assistant, and the reigning princess of the shop, didn’t miss a beat.

“You act like there’s a difference,” she retorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. “But seriously, can someone answer my question? Why do men”—she emphasized the word for effect—“think that all we need is money thrown at us all the time? What’s wrong with quality time and romance?”

“Dej, you’re speaking from the perspective of a financially stable woman who loves what she does,” K.B., one of my talented tattoo artists, chimed in. “But a lot of women out there aren’t like you. They do want a guy who throws money at them. Even if they have their own money, there’s something about a man paying the bill that puts a smile on their faces.”

“Amen to that shit,” Ginger, another artist, added. “Because these days, a girl needs more than someone whose only claim to fame is how well he can stick his raggedy dick in you.”

Dejah wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Gross,” she scoffed, shaking her head as she grabbed a broom to busy herself with shop cleaning. “If it’s ‘raggedy’, he shouldn’t be sticking it anywhere.”

Ginger shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, I get that, but some of these New York chicks are desperate. They’ll settle for anything just to brag about being with a man who somewhat claims them.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my hometown like that,” Dejah interjected, raising a hand defensively. “We have women here looking for love just like anywhere else. Sure, it’s rough, but New York ain’t got shit on Atlanta.”

“Yo, don’t diss Ink’s city like that. You know he met his wife there, and Sage sure as hell isn’t desperate.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at K.B.’s comment. He had a thing for Sage and never missed an opportunity to bring her into any conversation. If he didn’t respect me as much as he did, and if he happened to fit Sage’s type, he’d probably shoot his shot. But K.B. knew his boundaries and stayed respectfully in his lane.

“You’re always trying to say slick shit about my wife,” I teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “When are you going to find a woman of your own?”

A mischievous smirk appeared on K.B.’s face, signaling that he was about to say something outrageous. “When the ladies stop feeling me,” he replied, his tone dripping with confidence.

“Boy, please,” Dejah scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I can’t wait until you go back to Atlanta with all that toxic energy. Ink, Juice is back from vacation, so we don’t need K.B. anymore. It’s time to send him back to the A.”

“Don’t worry, Dejah. I’ll be leaving soon. Atlanta must be missing me by now.”

Dejah shook her head, turning her back to . . .