You Could Do Damage

by K.C. Mills

Genres: African American Urban; African American Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

A dangerous dance of passion and power unfolds when two wounded souls collide in this sizzling unconventional romance by national bestselling author K.C. Mills.

Nari Collette finds herself on the brink of homelessness after a crushing betrayal. Desperate for stability, she reluctantly agrees to an unconventional proposal from the attractive and enigmatic Kincaid Akel.
 
Determined to reclaim his seat as heir of a dangerous criminal enterprise, Kincaid needs a wife to solidify his position, but he never expected his carefully selected bride to ignite such fierce desire. As Nari awakens feelings he long thought dead, Kincaid struggles to maintain control.
 
Their entangled marriage of convenience quickly becomes a battleground of wills as Nari fights to protect her heart, even as she's irresistibly drawn to her dangerous new husband.
 
As enemies close in from all sides, and with both their hearts and lives on the line, Nari and Kincaid must decide if they can trust each other with their deepest secrets . . . or if the very passion that binds them will ultimately be their downfall.
 

Release date: February 25, 2025

Publisher: Black Odyssey Media

Print pages: 288

Sample

Chapter 1

Nari.

“We have to be out by five. That’s all the time they’re giving us.”

Shayla, my cousin and roommate, never paused her motions as she scrambled around the dingy room that belonged to her, emptying drawers and tossing her belongings into the suitcases wedged open on her tiny twin bed. The mattress was so small that I could barely see it beneath the luggage.

“What the hell do you mean we have to be out by five?”

“You heard me, Nari. Out. We don’t live here anymore. My God, why do you always act so damn naïve?” Her tone was harsh and condescending even, and most days, I wouldn’t react, but today, oh yeah, today was different. I crossed the threshold of her room, barging in like a wild, unexpected storm. My thin fingers gripped her shoulder, spinning Shayla’s thick frame in my direction. Her maple-brown eyes went wild from the unexpected attack.

“And you heard me. Why do we have to be out by five? We paid our rent for the month. I gave you my half. What the hell is going on?”

She yanked away from me and scoffed. “Yeah, you gave me money but not for rent. It was money you owed me, and I had shit to do, so I handled my business. The rent isn’t paid, and we have to be out.”

My mind rushed through the month that she’d covered the entire rent. Her boyfriend had offered money to cover it, so he’d technically paid my half. I had just started my job, and they put me in the hole for two weeks before I could get my check. When I did get paid, I still couldn’t afford to pay her back because I had to buy suitable clothes and shoes to look the part, or I’d be fired. Shayla promised me it wasn’t a big deal and that I could repay her over time.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that? You promised that I could take my time paying you back.”

“Yeah, well, things changed. I needed the money. Sticks broke up with me.”

“You should’ve told me. It’s been three weeks; you’ve known for three weeks that we’d have to be out by the end of the month. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, Nari, and it’s not my problem. I’m not your damn mama. Figure it out. We barely even get along most days. I only made things work because I needed your help to pay the rent.” Shayla’s confession was like a knife in the gut. I had always known that my cousin didn’t care about me. She was my mother’s baby sister’s child, and I was desperate for any family. She was it, but I knew from the day we met that she would take more than she would give. Either way, to hear the words and the venom behind them still felt painful.

Shayla had been the one who made the connection after we crossed paths on the train. She kept staring at me with this evil scowl, and I didn’t understand why until just before I reached my stop and was about to get off the train. Shayla caught my wrist firmly and yanked me back inside just before the doors closed. I missed my stop but gained a cousin. She began her interrogation with basic questions like my name, my parents’ names, and where I grew up. It didn’t take long for the connection to be made. I explained that I had grown up in foster care and I had never known my parents. The only detail I could offer was my mother’s name, Endia Renee Collette. I had her last name because my father’s wasn’t listed on my birth certificate. The line was blank. Once I provided the golden ticket, my mother’s name, Shayla’s attitude changed. She smiled and became friendly, telling me we were related and how she had known the minute she laid eyes on me. I looked just like her, my mother. My cousin’s words, not mine. I had never seen her before.

I never knew the woman but was starved for anything connected to her. My newly identified cousin and I talked, becoming friends, and I learned she hadn’t known my mother either. She did, however, know that Endia had a daughter who was placed in foster care at her parents’ insistence. At the time, my mother was only sixteen years old. According to Shayla, months after the decision, my mother became seriously depressed and disappeared. She’d packed a bag one night, left the house, and never returned. No one had heard from her since that day, nor did they know if she was dead or alive.

The reality broke my heart. I would never know the woman who gave me life, but the story also gave me a sense of hope that, at the very least, she wanted me, only her parents refused to allow her to keep me. The worst part was that Shayla’s mother, who was younger than my mother, had gotten pregnant two years after my mother disappeared . . . and my grandparents embraced her child. They supported her decision to keep Shayla, so she grew up in a loving home with family while I struggled through life with no one. The family I wanted, Shayla was too selfish and spoiled to care about. She made all the wrong decisions to the point where they gave up on her and placed an ultimatum on the table—get it together or get out. At sixteen, she packed her things, like my mother had done, but for different reasons.

She hated her family so much that she would never tell me anything about them. The more we were around each other, the more I realized that Shayla only hated her family because they had expectations. She wanted to run the streets when they demanded she make something of herself. At least they cared. I would’ve loved to have someone who cared enough to invest in me.

The only proof I had that Shayla and I were related was an old photo of her mother and mine. The woman in the picture, who she identified as my mother, was my twin. Her eyes, nose, lips, round face, and thick, wild hair were identical to what I saw when I looked in the mirror. The only difference was that my mother was fair skinned while my skin was dark and richer with melanin, likely inherited from my father, who I didn’t know. Shayla would never introduce me to my family, making clear that she’d told them about our union, and they wanted no part of me. It hurt, but I was used to rejection. Shayla was all I had, so I held on tight, even when she treated me like shit, and now, here we were.

“Are you serious right now? As shitty as this situation is, it’s all I have. Where am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Grow the fuck up, Nari. It’s not my responsibility to take care of you.”

“Bitch, you haven’t done shit for me—ever. The only reason why I’m here is because you couldn’t afford to live on your own, just like me.”

She shrugged. “You’re right, so why the hell would you want to be around me? Do what you want. I don’t care. I have to worry about my damn self.”

I watched in astonishment as my cousin acted like I didn’t matter now and never really did. Instead of wasting energy on words that wouldn’t change the situation or her mind, I crossed the hall to my room and sat on the edge of my twin bed. Our apartment was partially furnished, which was another reason we chose it. Well, that and the fact that we could manage the eight-hundred-dollar rent. Our residence was in a horrible neighborhood, with minimal access to anything, but we could afford it.

Dropping my face in my palms while my sharp elbows dug into my thighs, I fought hard to keep tears at bay. My life, my very complicated and shitty life, was taking a toll on me. I was running low on fight. I had been fighting all my life and, somehow, made it this far. I was twenty-four years old, and I was alive but not living. I’d survived some horrible times and people so that current blow shouldn’t have been as devastating as it was, but truthfully, it had completely drained me of any fight I had left.

When Shayla finished packing, she left without saying one word to me. All I was granted was the clang of her keys being tossed on the tiny, wooden dinette in the kitchen and then the door slamming after the thud of her luggage dropping on the other side. My eyes scanned the room, and that was when it hit me. I bolted from the bed and hurried to the dresser. My heart pounded in my chest as I removed the bottom drawer, saying a silent prayer. As I dropped it to the floor, I felt a sharp pain in my chest.

No, no, no, no!

It was gone. My money was gone. I’d saved a little over two grand since working at the club. My goal was to put away enough to get my own place and, hopefully, a decent car. I moved so fast that I almost tripped over my feet, rushing to the window just in time to see Shayla lift her legs into a car and close the door. She was gone, and I had no way of knowing where she was heading. She’d stolen my money. It was all I had to my name. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

I have to be out of here by five and at work by seven.



“You’re late, and what’s with all that?” Joey, who worked security at the door, along with Ryan, motioned to the two oversized duffels draped over each of my shoulders. I was grateful when he pulled them from my body and gripped each as if they were featherlight. They were heavy, and I was exhausted from having lugged them from the apartment to the car I’d scheduled to get me to work.

“Be right back,” he tossed over to Ryan, who was scanning the membership cards of two women waiting in line. Ryan offered a head nod before motioning for the two women to enter. They glided in, looking just as exclusive as the space we were in . . . a club I worked at but couldn’t afford membership to.

“Hurry up before Cal sees you. He’s in a mood and already asked about you twice.”

I frowned at the thought. My boss, Calvetti, wasn’t the nicest person. He was all about business, and the club was his baby. It was one of the talking points amongst the elite in our city. I’d serviced some of the wealthiest people who claimed Atlanta as their home, making it harder to work here. They wasted money like it literally grew on trees. For them, I was positive it did.

“I know. I had two rides canceled on me. They’re all afraid to come into my neighborhood, and I can’t blame them,” I mumbled as we entered the employee lounge. He tossed my bags in the corner before pausing to look me over as if he expected something to jump out and explain why I had everything I owned with me when I arrived.

“You going somewhere?” His big body seemed intimidating to most, but he was a big ole softy to me. Joey could snap a neck with his bare hands if he needed to, but he was actually a really nice guy who didn’t like confrontation.

“No, well, yeah, but not like what you’re asking. I got put out of my place, and well . . . never mind. I need to get to work.”

I pushed out a short sigh before hurrying to my locker. My fingers quickly twisted the dial with my combination before digging into the tote I still held. After I pulled out my heels placing them on the floor, I stepped out of my slides and dropped them in. I shoved my things in the locker and turned the dial to secure it.

“What do you mean by ‘put out’?”

“Evicted,” I mumbled as I bent over to put on my heels.

“How? You just got the place.” He and I talked a little, mostly by his doing. The day Shayla and I moved in, I was so relieved to have a solid place to stay that I mentioned it to him. When I was upright again, his thin eyes were narrowed on me.

“By not paying rent.”

“If you were short, you could’ve asked . . .”

I shook my head. “Wasn’t me. Shayla screwed me over. I gave her my half, and she didn’t pay.”

She also stole every penny I had to my name, but I’m too exhausted to be angry right now.

Joey kept a narrowed glare on me while I was on my way to the door. “So, what now? Where are you going to stay?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

I quickly shook my head. “No, absolutely not. I’m nobody’s charity case, Joey. I’ll figure it out,” I tossed over my shoulder as we ventured down the hall that would take us back to the main area of the club.

Just before we reached the bar, he caught my wrist. “I know you’re not a charity case. That’s not what this is. I just want to help because that’s what friends do.”

I smiled softly before my eyes lowered to where his big hand was gently wrapped around my wrist. He quickly let go.

“I appreciate it, Joey, but we’re not really friends, are we? I work here, and so do you, which is the sum total of our affiliation, so anything you do for me will feel like charity. I also promised that I would never owe anybody anything. I have to stick to that because it’s all I have.”

After a long pause, I walked away but could feel him staring. He was a sweetheart and would never hold anything over my head. Joey had a crush. He never said it, but I could tell by how he hovered, looking out for me the way he did. It was always subtle things, such as walking me to my car at night or handling patrons who got too rowdy or rude, but his efforts didn’t go unnoticed. He’d do anything for me. I was sure of it. However, I just couldn’t allow myself to become dependent on anyone, especially not after the way I’d just been fucked over by someone who shared the same DNA. My life was my own, and I would have to make it work.

That night, I moved mindlessly through the club, doing what I was paid to do—look pretty and keep the deep pockets happy. It didn’t matter whether they were men or women. My job was to make sure the patrons kept a smile on their faces and money flowing. I managed, even though my mind was heavy. Men focused on me and engaged in flirtatious conversation, and I pretended to be interested but wasn’t. They were rich, attractive men whose pockets were deep with either legal or illegal money. Politicians would be seated in private sections, next to drug dealers who pushed dope through the same streets those politicians were trying to clean up. They all had a general respect for one another because, in here, none of that mattered. They were on a leveled playing field, which was paved with green. If you could pay, you could play.

I searched the club and realized Joey was no longer at the door. That was usually the case when I worked. He would fade into the shadows, keeping an eye on things. On me. I appreciated his presence because there had been a few times when he had to handle clients for getting a little too handsy. I had a feeling that was about to be the case as I approached a section with two men. I had been summoned to them more times than I liked that evening.

There were several women with them as well, but I could tell that they were only sharing space as an alternative option. The man who occupied the section nearby was who they really wanted to spend time with; however, he had ignored advances from everyone who’d approached him throughout the evening.

He denied them all with little effort, choosing to sit by himself, enjoying an exclusive bottle of Gautier Eden Cognac. It was strange, but it wasn’t my business. He had been there before but never in my section. I did, however, notice that sitting alone was kind of his thing. Some nights, he was social, but most, he wasn’t. I knew for sure that he had spent time with a few of the women who worked there in the private rooms because they all made a point of whispering about him. I didn’t care. He wasn’t my type if he was there, regardless of how handsome the man was.

What I did gather about him was that he seemed to be important. It wasn’t any one thing about him, but then again, it was everything about him that brought me to that conclusion. His presence was dominating, his stature that of a respected man, and his demeanor was intimidating. He communicated and issued demands with a motion of his head or a look of his eyes. I had personally never once spoken a word to him, but I could feel his energy, as could everyone around him, like the two assholes who were in the section next to him. I noticed how they kept their distance, but they watched and whispered about him like the women did. It was odd.

When I paid attention, I noticed he didn’t say much to anyone, but he was attentive to everything around him. It was weird in a sense. His presence was a complete contradiction to the other deep pockets that came out to play. They were loud and flashy, attempting to be seen while he barely moved or opened his mouth. The crazy thing was people were drawn to him while the loud and obnoxious were overlooked.

I didn’t understand why he had chosen to keep the women at bay who were vying for his attention, but it pissed them off. Men came to the club for a specific reason—women who aimed to please as long as the price was right. If I had to summarize the place, it was like a modern-day brothel. The establishment had two floors. The social club was on the first level, and private rooms were below us. Some women were employed by Cal, the owner, to take care of the clientele who were willing to pay extra for “platinum treatment,” but there were also those who showed up with the hopes of being chosen, such as the two women who had arrived the same time I’d showed up late for work. They would look pretty eager to be hand selected by one of these men with deep pockets.

I knew the rules of that place. The black cards with gold writing meant paid memberships to mingle with the rich and elite, such as the Recluse. That was what I’d named him.

“I need another bottle,” one of the two men who summoned me demanded as soon as I reached their private section. He was medium height and handsome in a generic way, but he was dressed in an expensive suit. They all wore clothes that cost me more than a month’s earnings. I’d officially dubbed him as an asshole because the demand for another bottle left his lips as if he had rights to me and my time, like I wasn’t worthy of respect.

Plastering on my fake smile, I nodded. “What kind?”

They’d had several throughout the night—champagne, imported Cognac, and aged wine.

His eyes moved from my face down my body, covered in a black form-fitting dress. The front was cut low and the back even lower, exposing skin down to the area just above my ass. Like I said, my job was to look the part.

Seconds later, he moved the woman from his lap and was on his feet. I wasn’t allowed time to react before he was on me. My body landed hard against his to the point where I needed his frame to keep me steady until I regained my balance. His hands moved to my ass, and his lips brushed my ear.

“I want to fuck you. I’ll pay whatever you want to agree. You get a commission from what I buy, right?”

My body flooded with anger, and I pushed away. Without thinking, my hand landed across his face with so much force that my palm stung immediately after the impact.

His jaw flexed, and he returned the favor by allowing his large hand to connect with the left side of my face before I felt his vise grip around my neck.

I gasped, and my eyes fluttered, but seconds later, they focused on Joey. He was at the man’s side with a gun pressed to his temple.

“Let her go—now.”

Asshole did as he was told, and the second I was free, Joey flipped the gun in his hand, and it crashed against the side of the man’s face. The blow was so forceful that it brought him to his knees.

My eyes doubled in size as I watched what was happening. Two other men appeared, aggressively grabbing ahold of Asshole and his shadow, who’d sprung to his feet as if he planned on defending his friend. It wasn’t until then that I noticed Recluse was now nearby. He moved so smoothly that it was as if he glided. His eyes fastened to mine briefly before he reached Joey and spoke lowly. Joey nodded and motioned for both men to be released.

Once they were free, Recluse offered a look that had Asshole and his buddy dropping their eyes. They had somehow pissed him off. He hadn’t spoken one word, but something was communicated between them because Asshole and his sidekick hurried out of the section.

Recluse approached me, standing inches away. I should’ve been alarmed after being assaulted by Asshole, but there was something about him that put me at ease. He wasn’t like the two men who’d just left. I instantly felt dwarfed by his height, which wasn’t normal because, at five foot nine, I was tall for a woman. He stood six feet plus and had strong arms, a wide chest, and broad shoulders. His dark eyes were serious as they fastened to mine, and my God, that man was gorgeous in a way that I had never seen in a man before. His face was angular, with a strong jaw, and covered in a sheen of inky black hair. It looked slick like oil and matched the organized mass of curls that sprouted from his head. The sides were faded low and lined up clean, giving the appearance that he’d seen his barber that very day. However, the most impressive thing about him at the moment was those lips of his. They were the kind I dreamed about grazing my body while exploring my most intimate parts.

Ten seconds, a minute, a whole year might’ve passed before he eventually moved, and it was to place his large hand on my chin. He gripped it carefully, being mindful that Asshole had just hit me. Tilting my face slightly to the right, the man examined my features, and his eyes went from relaxed to hard with lightning speed in some kind of shift. I could see the fury behind those serious eyes. He was angry.

“I apologize. He will never step foot in here or anywhere else you are ever again.”

The words were eerie and confusing. That was the only place I would ever see the asshole. We ran in different circles. I couldn’t imagine being fortunate enough to frequent the same places as him. He might not have been nice, but he was indeed rich.

Recluse stepped away before I could fully process it, moving past Joey and sauntering through the club. I couldn’t help but watch as his long legs carried him toward the entrance. His stride was confident. The man moved with purpose, and the funny thing was, it appeared effortless. It wasn’t as if he tried. He just existed in all his glory, pulling the attention of everyone he passed, both men and women.

“Hey, you okay?” Joey’s tone was low, his eyes soft and apologetic as if it were somehow his fault that Asshole hit me.

“Yeah, I’m good, but what about this? I need my money and can’t afford to go in the hole over their tab.”

He searched my face for a minute before nodding. “You won’t. It’s covered.”

“How? They left.”

“Don’t worry about it. The bill is covered, including your tip.” Joey stared at me, something moving behind his eyes before he looked toward the door. I sensed he wasn’t happy, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. I needed to finish my shift and then find somewhere to rest my head tonight. It would likely be a hotel, but that could only be temporary. Unfortunately, I couldn’t worry about it now. I had a job to do.

Chapter 2

Kincaid.

“What’s on your mind?” Aila stared at me with those curious eyes, a look I’d grown accustomed to. I searched her face, trying to decide if I would go through with my plan. I didn’t love her, but I did care about her. She would be devastated because, regardless of how little she had rights to my heart, I wholly owned hers.

“Just business,” I assured. It was a lie, something I prided myself on avoiding; however, it was necessary and befitting in that situation. Everything about us, our connection, our future . . . was a lie.

“Business,” she scoffed after repeating my response, a frown marring her beautiful face. “I know you, Caid. That look in your eyes is not connected to business. It’s much heavier than money. What’s bothering you?”

Massaging my chin, I lifted my eyes to the corner of the room where my father and hers were puffing on cigars. My mother was at one of her many society or committee meetings, and I was grateful because, had she been here, she and Aila would have been huddled up talking a mile a minute about the wedding they were planning.

Our wedding.

I was annoyed because Aila shouldn’t have been here. My father requested I stop by to discuss a few things with him. He informed me that Jabari Kaber, her father, would be in attendance, and I was sure that Aila begged to tag along, hoping to grab a minute of my time. I had been distant over the past few weeks under the guise of being overloaded with business. It was easy for her to accept. . .