The Prada Plan 2

Book 2: Prada Plan

by Ashley Antoinette

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Ashley Antoinette, of the Ashley & JaQuavis writing duo, steps out on her own once again with the next installment of her scandalously sexy Prada Plan series!

When you’ve been labeled crazy all of your life, it’s easy to commit a murder, and now street fiction’s most infamous bad girl, Leah Richards, holds the fate of an entire family in her hands. After coming in second place to YaYa in the race to win Indie’s affection, Leah decides that enough is enough and kidnaps the loving couple’s baby girl. Playing a deadly game of cat and mouse, she turns their world upside down. They desperately fight to keep their daughter alive, but there is more to Leah’s insanity than meets the eye.

YaYa’s world is falling apart, and all she wants is to have her daughter back unharmed. After leaving her old lifestyle behind, she thought she could start fresh, but old demons have surfaced, and now she needs a Prada Plan more than ever to come out on top. When truths turn out to be lies and revenge is the motive for death, she doesn’t know who to trust or where to turn. Will Leah kill baby Skylar? Will YaYa and Indie live happily ever after? Can Indie keep his reign over Houston without falling victim to the game? All of your questions will be answered in this heart-pounding sequel.

Release date: June 8, 2011

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

I have to thank God, because only He knows the challenges that I have faced along this literary road. Writing this one was a miracle, considering all the obstacles I had to go through, and although I don’t understand why certain things happened in my life, I know that He will never give me a test that I cannot pass. This gift that He has given me, this amazing life that I have been afforded, and the beautiful husband and son that I was blessed with are enough for me to always be grateful to Him.

I would like to thank all of the fans that continue to support me. I do this for you, and I appreciate all of you who have been on this ride with me since my Dirty Money days. I hope you enjoy this new Ashley Antoinette classic. You are the best, and I will do this for you until I can’t do it any longer. I read your e-mails, and I appreciate your positivity. Know that all of you are my inspiration.

I would like to thank my mom for her constant and unyielding love and support; my daddy for his strength, wisdom, and heart; my siblings for their purity and motivation. I love you all so very much. I’m blessed with an amazing circle of unending love, and the more I experience life, the more I appreciate how genuine you all are.

I would like to thank Carl Weber, of course. You are truly family, and you have taught me so many things about this business. This is a partnership, a team, and I know that I would not be where I am without the intricate part that you play in my success. I appreciate your belief in me and in my ability as a novelist. Thank you for your patience with this one. Forty weeks of pregnancy definitely slowed me down, but I’m back and better than ever! Time to take it to the next level…no ceilings.

Speaking of which, I would like to thank our super agent, Mr. Marc Maguire, lol. You are truly the best at what you do. I am so thankful to have you on this Ashley & JaQuavis team. You singlehandedly took me into a crazy tax bracket, lol, and you have turned what I once considered a hustle into a lifelong career. I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us. I see big business ahead. Of course, I have to include Ms. Sasha in this acknowledgement for all of her hard work as well. You two are a pleasure to work with. Murderville is next on the New York Times list, guys. Just wait and see. It is going to be epic!!!

I would also like to thank Natalie, Brenda, Denard, Martha, Walter, and the entire Urban Books/Kensington family for your hard work, for all of the feel-good e-mails throughout my pregnancy, your dedication to our brand, and for your support. You guys are the best in the business. It is all in the family, so my success is your success as well. We’re in this together.

I would like to thank some of my dearest friends for being authentic and for being true even when it is not easy: Ashley Mustafaa, Shonda Gaylord, Charlynn Midock, and Christine Love.

Last but most certainly not least, I would like to thank Cash Money Content for choosing Ashley & JaQuavis as one of the starters for your new book line. We’re going to knock this thing out of the park. I promise! Can’t wait to get started.

 

You can visit me at readerordieonline.com or ashleyjaquavis.com

Disaya sat straight up in the middle of the night and looked around the darkened room. She was in a cold sweat and her heart was beating erratically. She looked at the clock. It read 4:45 A.M. She held her breath as she listened silently.

“Indie,” she whispered as she shook him out of his sleep.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked.

“Something’s not right,” she said, her eyes wide and alert.

“Everything’s fine, ma. You just got to get used to the new house,” he urged as he kissed her lips. “Go back to sleep.”

Disaya threw the covers off of her body. “She usually wakes up, Indie. Skylar doesn’t sleep through the night yet. She wakes up around three every morning.” She stood up and raced out of their room. Her panicky mood made Indie follow her into their daughter’s room.

The sight of the empty crib brought Disaya to a halt as she stared into the darkness in anguish. “She’s gone! Indie, she’s gone!” Disaya screamed as she fell into his arms crying. “Where’s my daughter, Indie? Where is she? Who would take her, Indie? Who would do this?”

Her terrified screams only intensified as the situation sank in and the shattered heart of a mother awoke the neighbors and pierced through the still of the night. She had no idea that her worst enemy was lurking around her. She had left New York in hopes of leaving her horrid past behind her, but trouble always seemed to follow. It was the story of her life.

 

Leah looked down at the tiny child in her arms. She was so gorgeous that Leah couldn’t help but imagine what her own baby might have looked like. The child in her arms was still asleep, but the crying in her ear was as loud as ever.

Waaa! Waaa!

“Shut up!” she yelled. Baby Skylar whimpered, but settled down without so much as a peep. Leah was confused. Where is the crying coming from?

As she stood in the back yard of the house that Indie had built, her eyes darted around frantically until she found the source of the ear-piercing sound. It was coming from the grave where she had buried her dead baby. He was screaming, taunting her…haunting her.

Leah then looked at the tiny grave she had dug next to her baby’s, and a smile crept across her face as she looked down at Baby Skylar. Indie and Disaya were going to pay for fucking her over. They were going to pay for all of her pain.

“Your mommy and daddy should have never fucked with me. Now, their precious little baby has to pay.”

I know you want to label me the bad guy. Every story needs one, right? The conniving bitch that is only out for self, the crazy one with nothing to lose. That’s how you see me. Every pair of eyes that’s scanning this page would love to see this bad girl die slow, but I’m used to that. It’s the story of my life. Leah Richards has always been spoiled goods.

But you all are looking through a jaded lens. If you knew the true story behind my rage, you would understand. Little Ms. Prada Plan isn’t as perfect as she seems, and I’m not as cruel as you would like to make me out to be. Rivalry, betrayal, friendship, rejection, loneliness, jealousy—those were the ingredients that brought me to this point. All of that mixed with rage contributed to the deterioration of my mental health. Now I’m teetering on the edge, and depending on which direction the winds of life blow, I could be pushed over.

I should have never opened up my life to YaYa. The greedy bitch just took and took from me until I had nothing left. Emotionally, she drained me. She left me on E, and now it’s payback time. It’s my turn to watch her suffer.

You’ve already chosen teams, and I get it, because you have only heard YaYa’s side of the story thus far. The Prada Plan made that bitch look like a saint, but by the end of Part 2, you just might change your mind about me. I’m not a fake bitch, so I’m not saying you are going to love me; because frankly, I don’t like any of you Indie and YaYa fan club members either. All of those Amazon.com reviews were sickening. Damn, I mean they are a far cry from Barack and Michelle. Get off their jocks. So no, I don’t care for y’all that much, and you for damn sure don’t like me, but let’s just say that after my story you will understand me, and you most definitely will know it’s not a good idea to cross me.

My life has been one constant struggle, and one exhausting tale of survival. When nobody wants you, envy can easily corrupt your heart, and when you have no loyalties, no one is indispensable. I’ve always done what I had to do in order to get by, and the people who got in my way always felt my wrath. Fuck a mother, a father, and a friend; all I’ve ever had was me, and I refuse to lose—especially to Disaya Morgan. I’ll let my body hit the dirt before I let that bitch beat me.

I had learned to control my anger. Years of therapy and padded rooms had snapped me out of my vindictive nature, but YaYa brought me back. She unlocked the devil in me, and from the very first time I looked into those green eyes, I secretly hated her. She had what I wanted, everything that I desired. She was so beautiful and loved, yet was clueless as to how blessed she actually was. She was who I wanted to be, who I should have been.

Befriending the bitch was easy enough. Getting rid of Mona’s tag-along ass was simple, because she was a weak ho from the beginning. Being close to YaYa fulfilled my need for attention, but after I helped her Baby Phat—wearing ass sleep her way to the top, she forgot that we were a team. I introduced her to real money and a completely new lifestyle, then the bitch fell in love, and she had the nerve to turn her nose up at me—like lying on her back hadn’t just been her way to get paid too.

She acted like what we had didn’t mean shit to her, as if Indie could offer her so much more. The bitch was stupid, because the way I see it, he was using her. At least my love was genuine. My love had been there all along. It was based on a much deeper connection, not just on the sex. Indie didn’t decide to wife her until she gave him some pussy. I, on the other hand, appreciated her for so much more. YaYa’s dense ass couldn’t see that, though, and her brand new attitude turned me off completely.

I don’t get clipped; I clip bitches. She should have known that there could only be one queen B, and now I have to teach her a lesson. It’s time for her to kneel at my feet and know what it feels like to be second best.

I know I’m rambling. It is so easy for me to get caught up in my emotions and vent about this situation all day, so before I take it there, I’m going to hand this story over to someone who can do it justice. If I kick it to you, you are going to be biased. You already hate me, so you won’t judge it with an open mind, so Ms. Ashley Antoinette is going to deliver it for me—raw and uncensored, the way that only she can do it.

I’m about to flip this entire shit upside down. Fuck a Prada Plan and the bitch that created it. It’s Leah’s turn. Welcome to my story.

YaYa’s ears went deaf to everything around her as the explosive sound of her frantic heartbeat rang loudly in her ears. The sight of her daughter’s empty crib incited a fear within her that she had never known. Her stomach instantly went hollow as she bent over in disbelief, and the agonizing thought of someone hurting Skylar broke her down to her knees. The lonely tears that cascaded down her delicate face were every indication that her grief was too much to bear. Her mouth formed in an O of horror, yet no words came out. Her cries were so heavy that they plagued her in silence. Her soul hurt so badly that she couldn’t register the emotion in her brain. The torment that she felt was one that only a mother would know. A missing child is like a missing identity. She didn’t know who she was without her daughter, and now that she was gone, YaYa felt as if the air had been knocked from her lungs.

Indie knelt with her in an attempt to console her. His strong arms wrapped around her fragile frame as she melted into his embrace. Tears plagued his own eyes as a jumble of emotion built up inside of him. He felt so many things at once as his mind kicked into overdrive. He immediately thought of any and everyone who he had ever had problems with. YaYa was a mother. She had birthed Skylar, but it was Indie who had created the little angel. Skylar was his seed, and the fact that someone had trespassed against his own sent Indie over the edge. Through all of the confusion, the sadness, the grief, his most prevalent emotion was rage.

“I’ma take care of it, YaYa. I’m going to find out who did this,” he whispered as he held her, pulling her head into his chest.

“Who would take her away from me? She’s a baby, Indie. She’s my baby,” YaYa cried.

“I don’t know, ma,” he replied truthfully.

YaYa sprang to her feet and rushed out of the room as she headed for the phone. “I have to call somebody. We need to call the police. She hasn’t been gone that long. They can help bring my baby back.” YaYa’s hands shook violently as she picked up the cordless phone, but before she could dial one number, Indie removed it from her grasp.

“We can’t call the police,” he stated.

“What?” YaYa responded incredulously as her eyes squinted in confusion. “Indie we have to.”

Indie was trying his hardest to hold onto his logical reserve. The situation was threatening to cripple him at any moment, but he knew that he had to stay strong. Panicking would only cause more chaos, and chaos would ultimately lead to his daughter’s demise. He had to remain focused and think. The weight of the world was on his shoulders. YaYa needed him. His daughter needed him, and he had to be the man they had come to rely on. It was up to him to make everything okay.

“This is federal, YaYa. If we report Sky missing, this place will be crawling with the feds within the hour, and they’ll want to know everything. Everyone will be a suspect, including me. What I do and how I get my money will come under scrutiny.”

YaYa shook her head in total disbelief as she stormed toward Indie, her eyes ablaze with anger. “I don’t give a fuck, Indie! She’s our daughter. They can take both of our asses to prison as long as they get her back. Give me the phone!” she demanded as she lunged to grab it from his hand.

Indie held the phone away from YaYa’s reach, which only made her cry harder as she wrestled him for it. With a lack of someone to blame, she began to turn on him. He became her enemy.

“Give me the fucking phone! I hate you!” she screamed. Inside, she knew that she could never mean those words, not when it came to Indie, but at the moment, he was making her feel so helpless that they just slipped out. Her love for her daughter surpassed that of any man, including Indie, and she was reacting the only way she knew how.

She pushed Indie with all of her might, taking her frustrations out on him as she hit him repeatedly in the chest. “Somebody took her! How can you just stand there? I need that phone!” she yelled as snot and tears mixed on her face.

Indie grabbed her wrists and turned her around so that her back was facing him, and he restrained her gently as he hugged her to his body. “Shhh…. Everything is going to be okay. Calm down for me, ma. Just breathe,” he whispered in her ear as sobs caused her to tremble.

She gasped for air as she began to hyperventilate, but Indie continued to hold onto her. For the past half hour, she had been falling into despair and fear had taken over her, but Indie had caught her. He was her rock, and he was slowly soothing her nerves and bringing her back to sanity. His baritone was like therapy to her as she closed her eyes and let her tears fall.

Indie was glad that he was holding her from behind. If she were facing him, she would have seen the tears forming in his own eyes and the uncertainty that lingered in his heart. He loved his family more than anything, and seeing the love of his life so broken was crushing. He could feel the tension leaving YaYa’s body as she stopped fighting him.

“What am I going to do?” she asked.

Indie slid the phone into her hands and said, “You’re her mother, YaYa, but she’s my daughter too. They’re going to have to put me in the ground to stop me from finding her. I need you to trust me, ma. I’m going to handle this, but if you feel like you need to call the police, go ahead. Do what’s in your heart, I won’t be mad. But if you trust in me, ma, put down the phone. I’ll bring her home.”

YaYa’s mind spun as she contemplated her options. If she called the police, then she would feel peace of mind, but could they really help her? She had seen all of those news specials about children who had been abducted only to never be heard from again. There was a good possibility that even law enforcement would not be able to bring her baby home. Indie, on the other hand, had never let her down. She trusted him more than she had ever trusted anyone else in her life, and she knew that there was no one safer to put her faith in than him. She didn’t know shit about Houston, but she knew that Indie ran the city. Her daughter’s chances were better if she allowed Indie to hold court in the streets.

YaYa dropped the phone at her side and turned to face her man. “I’m scared,” she said as she stared at him through glistening, tear-filled eyes. “But I trust you. Please, Indie, bring our daughter back. If something happens to her, I don’t know what I would do.”

Indie kissed the top of her head and then put both of his hands on the sides of her face. “I have to go out for a minute, ma. Will you be okay here by yourself?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

She nodded as he released her. He raced up the stairs and disappeared into their bedroom and dressed quickly.

“What are you going to do?” she asked as he came back into view.

“I’m going to handle it, ma. Try not to worry yourself sick,” he said as he pecked her cheek quickly. He was trying to play it cool and keep it calm in front of YaYa. The last thing he wanted her to see was his panic, but if she could see inside of him, she would know his true fear. His insides were boiling, and his heart was beating so quickly that it felt as if he were having a heart attack. “I’m going to make everything okay,” he assured with opaque confidence.

She wanted to believe in him, but the feeling that gripped her when he walked out of the door was haunting. Chills of doubt crawled up her spine, and the little bit of hope that Indie had left her with quickly abandoned her as soon as she heard the lock click behind him. She hoped that she had made the right choice, because her entire existence depended on it. Even in her darkest hour she had never felt so lost. To be responsible for the protection of such an innocent life was a daunting task.

I’m her mother. I was supposed to keep her safe, she thought dismally as she allowed the blame to fall on her shoulders. Her spirit was heavy with burden as she closed her eyes and imagined her infant’s face in her mind.

Placing her hand against her chest, she gasped for air as she began to pray. Please, God, protect my baby. Just don’t let them hurt her.

This blow weakened her, but there was one thing that she knew for sure—if anything happened to her daughter, there would be hell to pay.

 

The cocaine-colored Maybach ripped through the streets of Houston leaving burnt rubber on the pavement as Indie raced to Mekhi’s house. He didn’t even waste time parking the car when he pulled up to his partner’s crib. He pulled his vehicle directly onto the grass all the way up to the front porch and then hopped out. His hand was fixed and ready on his waistline as he knocked the hinges off the front door. He could smell the aroma of the pungent weed smoke that was filtering out of the house as soon as the door opened.

Indie was viewing the world through a murder-filled haze, and when Mekhi opened the door, he immediately became the focus of Indie’s wrath. Mekhi’s smile of welcome was instantly replaced by confusion as Indie placed a pistol in the center of his forehead and grabbed Mekhi’s neck with his free hand. Indie didn’t give a fuck that they were on the same team. In the past there had been shade between them—a hood rivalry, a street beef—and Indie wasn’t playing games.

He had just acquired the townhome that he had put YaYa in. Only a select few p. . .