Yield to Love Read online

Following that page were poems written in the same script. Marlowe choked back the sudden emotion lodged in her chest. No matter who her mother turned out to be, she hadn’t started out that way. She had dreams. She had goals.

  Marlowe was so absorbed in reading the book, she was startled when her cell phone rang.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Just checking to see if you’re still alive,” Roque said. “It’s been thirty minutes since you went in.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize.”

  “Do you know how much longer you’re going to be?”

  “You can leave. I’ll take a taxi back home.”

  “Sweetheart, I’d bet my pension no taxi is coming to this part of town.”

  Marlowe scowled. “Maybe if you’d let me drive my own car as I’d planned, I wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

  “Well, I’m here. I won’t leave you stranded.”

  “I’ll call Toye to come pick me up. This is gonna take more time than I thought.”

  “What exactly are you doing in there?”

  “I need time to go through all of my mother’s things.”

  “How much time?”

  “I don’t know. From the looks of things, it appears that my mother was a hoarder.”

  FOUR

  Roque sat across from three rich and powerful men at the bar of the Plaza Hotel. Two of the men were high rollers who’d inherited the generational wealth of their great-grandfather, Reginald Crowne. Patrick and Leonidas Crowne were savvy businessmen in their own right. The gray-haired billionaires were fraternal twins who shared everything, including (allegedly) the same mistress. Roque found that peculiar, but it was none of his concern. As long as they held up their end of the contract, they could screw Lady Gaga for all he cared.

  The third man at the table was Quentin Renaud, a trust fund baby who worked with the Crowne crew on a variety of projects. Roque didn’t care for the snotty-nosed upstart, but nothing was ever personal in business. Quentin was a minor irritation compared with some of the shit he’d had to put up with over the years in this business.

  Patrick sipped from his tumbler of Maker’s Mark. “How are things going with retail condominiums?” he asked Roque.

  “Well,” Roque answered. “I feel confident I’ll be able to secure the last property today.”

  “You mean you haven’t done so already? What are you waiting for?”

  “Precisely,” Leonidas cut in. “Put the charm on her.”

  He really wasn’t that confident now that he’d spoken with Marlowe and she’d told him her mother was a hoarder. He’d been floored by the news, which hit closer to home than Marlowe could have imagined. Roque could only guess how long it would take to go through all that stuff.

  Quentin spoke up. “Who needs charm when money will work just as well?”

  “She’s got money of her own,” Roque informed them. “She’d not chomping at the bit to sell.”

  “Wow,” Quentin interjected. “I figured these row house heirs would be happy for any handout.”

  Roque tried to ignore the snide remark. Rich folks like Quentin would never know how the other half lived. But Roque knew. He’d scratched his way up from the rest of the bottom feeders to get here. And he’d done it honestly. “Some things are more important than money, Quentin.”

  Quentin nearly sputtered, almost choking on his sip of scotch. “Like what?” he demanded.

  “Dignity and integrity.”

  “Hell, those can be bought for a price.”

  “Yes,” Leonidas agreed. “Don’t you forget that, Roque. Every man has his price.”

  That might be true, but Marlowe Jones was a woman. And what a woman she was! He still recalled looking at her ass when she sashayed up the sidewalk to the house. He’d tried to look away. Tried to ignore the tightening bulge in his pants. He’d chalked it up to the fact that he was a man and she was female. It was basic instinct, nothing else. He was definitely not attracted to that spit fire. He could only imagine how she’d be in bed. Issuing orders like a drill sergeant.

  ‘Move left! Move right!’

  ‘Go harder! Go deeper!’

  ‘Drop to your knees and give me twenty licks!’

  He loosened the suddenly snug tie at his throat, and squeezed his eyes shut for a minute. No, he would not conjure up that last image. He must be insane to even think of her that way.

  “So, then,” Patrick blew his erotic fantasy to smithereens, “we’ll be hearing from you tomorrow, I trust?”

  Roque nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good. I don’t think I need to remind you how important this deal is. Your firm will be partners with us. We’re all going to be rich.”

  Leonidas guffawed. “We’re already rich, brother.”

  Patrick smiled in return. “Well, filthy rich.”

  It wasn’t so much the money for Roque. It was more of the challenge. And right now, there was only one challenge in his way. Marlowe Jones.

  Roque waited on the valet to pull his Mercedes around to the front of the hotel. He had to get home. Jade would be waiting with her companion. Really, the woman was just a glorified nanny, but Jade hated it when he called her that. Jade created the role, companion. It made sense. She was too old for a nanny and too troublesome for a sitter. Jade’s companion, was a young woman, nineteen years of age. She was a tomboy who could handle Jade and all of her pets.

  Roque’s attention was diverted from his daughter when his cell phone rang. He smiled when he saw Gator’s number on the caller ID. Finally. He’d been waiting for his call ever since he’d left him with Marlowe this morning. He’d called Brett to come pick him up and left Marlowe with Gator. He knew Gator could handle himself in any situation.

  “Talk to me,” Roque ordered.

  “It’s bad,” Gator replied. “You can barely walk in there.”

  “Damn.”

  “She says she’s gonna need at least a few weeks to go through it all.”

  “I don’t have a few weeks.”

  “I don’t think she cares. She’s pretty choked up about finding all that shit in there. I don’t think she and her mama parted on the best of terms.”

  Roque passed a hand through his hair. What else could go wrong with this? This was supposed to have been an easy deal. “I should have known Marlowe ‘High Maintenance’ Jones was going to be trouble from the beginning.”

  “Maybe you should call her and express your condolences.”

  He had a deadline and he would not be put off by some sentimental woman. “Are you telling me how to run my business, Gator?”

  “Nope. Just thought you might want to act like a human for once.”

  No, he didn’t. Humans got hurt. Humans were infallible. He wanted to take care of business. And he planned to do just that.

  “It’s obvious Ms. Jones needs some help,” Roque said. “So, I’m going to give it to her.”

  “Uh oh. I don’t like that tone.”

  “Standby for further orders, Gator. I may need you later.”

  “Roger that.”

  Roque clenched his jaw. It seemed lately all he did was make phone calls to get shit done. He hung up with Gator and called Brett again.

  “Yes, sir,” Brett answered.

  “Have you ever seen the show, Hoarders?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Find me a local company that hauls away large amounts of trash and personal belongings.”

  “Will these items be resold?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “I’m asking because I’ll have to give them further instructions on how to dispose of the items.”

  Roque hadn’t thought of that. “Have them taken to a goddamn landfill for all I care.”

  “Yes, sir. And where would you like the items picked up from?”

  Now, that was easy to answer. “319 Club Lane.”

  ###

  “I cannot believe your mother had so much junk.”

  Marlowe and Toye were sta
nding in Reesa’s old bedroom sorting through boxes of old clothes, linens, and stuffed animals. After yesterday’s trip to the house, Marlowe had confided in Toye about Reesa’s obvious hoarding obsession. Toye had agreed to come back with her today. Probably more out of nosiness than compassion. But Marlowe was glad Toye drove her Lexus SUV just in case she had to take anything back with her. Judging from the crap in these boxes, it seemed highly unlikely Marlowe would be taking anything back but a staph infection. They’d been here for hours and they hadn’t put a dent in this mess.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” she told Toye.

  “Girl, you know I wouldn’t miss a chance to see what Reesa was up to. But damn, I had no idea she was a pack rat. When you said she had mountains of stuff, I didn’t take it literally.” Toye held up a pair of thigh high boots. “Your mama never did have any fashion sense.”

  Marlowe frowned. “Those must have been from her biker days.”

  “Yeah, right. Usually, she wore as little clothing as possible.”

  “I’m finding out my mother had many sides to her.”

  “None of them good. “

  Marlowe was starting to get annoyed by Toye’s negative comments. It was one thing for her to think poorly of her own mother. Quite another for Toye to voice it in such a hostile manner. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring her cousin.

  “I beg to differ,” Marlowe said. “There was an innocence about her. But it was shattered.”

  “Well, she was no saint. Don’t forget that.”

  Marlowe glared at her. “How could I forget? You won’t let me.”

  Toye’s eyes grew wide. “Why are you trippin’ on me?”

  “Why are you ragging on my mother?”

  “I’m only stating what everybody already knows. She was a ho. My mama was one too. You don’t see me getting all teary-eyed over her.”

  “I cannot believe this. You are acting like a real bitch, Toye!”

  Toye scowled. “I’m not the one you need to be pissed at.”

  “I don’t need to be pissed at anyone. I need your support.”

  Toye crossed her arms over her chest. “How much longer do you think this will take? I’m ready to go.”

  Marlowe took a deep breath. This wasn’t getting her anywhere. “I apologize for calling you a bitch. I’m just frustrated. No one has anything positive to say about Reesa, and I’m just trying to find some sign that my mother wasn’t a callous, unfeeling monster.” She bit back tears. She felt like she’d been through the wringer in the past few days. Reesa was still having an effect on her emotions even from the grave.

  “I’m sorry too,” Toye said. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  Marlowe nodded. “It’s okay.”

  A sharp rap at the front door made her jump. Before Marlowe could move, a booming voice called out, “Ms. Jones, where are you?”

  “Here!” Marlowe yelled back as she made her way to the living room area.

  A short Hispanic man appeared in the doorway. His eyes were wide with concern as he scanned the room. “I’m Juan. Mr. Coleman sent me.”

  “For what?”

  “A forced cleanout.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The man’s dark eyes settled on her again. “He said you needed help clearing out a home. Me and my demolition team are here to haul this mess away immediately. Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “We average a five-hour turn around time. We’ll have this place cleared in no time.”

  Marlowe looked over his shoulder outside the front door. A massive eighteen-wheeler with the words We Haul emblazoned on the side sat at the curb.

  “We got a six-man crew,” he told her. “Oops! I forgot about Linda. She’s our newest member. So, make that five guys and one woman.”

  He chuckled at his joke, but Marlowe wasn’t paying attention. Her insides felt like a hot pot of oil ready to boil over.

  “Let me get this straight,” Marlowe confirmed. “Roque Coleman sent you to clear this house?”

  “Yep. He said you could use some help.”

  “I never asked for his help.”

  He gave her a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard when you’ve become attached to things, Ms. Jones. Can I call you Marlowe?” He did anyway without her giving permission. “We can help you recover your home, Marlowe. And we can also recommend a therapist for you to get your obsessive / compulsive hoarding under control.”

  Marlowe heard Toye’s gasp behind her.

  “Oh, you think I’m the hoarder? No. This was my mother’s house!” She didn’t know why she felt the need to explain herself to Juan.

  “Mr. Coleman told us you’re the owner, and you’re ready to sell. We can help you clear it all out.”

  She shook her head. “Please wait outside for a moment.” She ushered the man out the front door before he could protest.

  “What are you going to do?” Toye asked.

  “I’m calling Mr. Control Freak. We’re getting to the bottom of this. How dare he send someone to clear out this house? He’s not looking out for me. He just wants me out of here so he can have this property.” She whipped her cell phone out and dialed his number.

  “Oh, shit.” Toye rubbed her hands together like an evil villain in a movie. “This is gonna be good.”

  Marlowe was even more pissed when she got Roque’s voicemail. She wanted him to feel the full effect of her ire. She was not settling for talking to a machine! She shook her head and disconnected the call.

  “Why’d you hang up?” Toye demanded.

  “I’m going to deliver this message face to face.” Marlowe pulled his card out and looked at the address. “Plug this address into your GPS, Toye. I’m going to give Roque Coleman a tongue-lashing he won’t forget!”

  ###

  Roque sat behind the desk in his office, watching his daughter make herself comfortable on the leather sectional in his massive corner office. She sat with her long legs tucked beneath her as she sipped an orange soda. He remembered when she was a little girl and he would take her everywhere with him. He’d been afraid to leave her with a babysitter he didn’t trust. She was older now, and usually didn’t want to hang out with him at the office. But today, she’d insisted on coming with him for Take Your Daughter to Work Day. He didn’t think she was all that interested in what he did at work; she probably just wanted to skip a day of school. Jade had difficulty getting along with girls her own age—or girls of any age, for that matter.

  “I can’t wait to tell everyone in my class about my day,” Jade bragged. She snapped pictures of Roque’s office with her cell phone camera.

  “You’ve seen this office before. Why all the pictures?” he asked.

  “We’re taking selfies and posting them on our teacher’s blog.”

  “Your teacher has a blog?”

  “Of course. How else do you think we get our homework?”

  “I assumed it was in class.”

  “Dad, you’re so funny. Oh, I almost forgot.” She laid her phone down, reached inside her backpack, and withdrew a small white box with holes punched into the lid. “I’ve got to take a pic of me and Charlotte.”

  Jade named all of her pets after her favorite childhood stories. His little girl was still there, no matter how sophisticated she tried to act.

  He waved her over to his desk. “Have a seat over here, Jade. Don’t you want to see how daddy does things?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not really.”

  “What’s the point of coming to work with me, then?”

  “It’s just a formality, Dad. I already know what you do. You talk on the phone a lot and make deals. Like the one you’re working on now. You bought some old neighborhood and made all the poor people leave. And now you’re going to build a place for rich people to live and shop.”

  Roque frowned. “You make it sound so calculating.” He was bothered by the way his daughter had succinctly summed it up. “This deal is about more than buying an old neighborhood. It’s about revitali
zing the area and creating opportunities for small business owners.”

  She shrugged. “At least you’re not a greedy lawyer, like Eric’s dad or a plastic surgeon, like Martinique’s father. All he does is look at sagging butts and breasts all day. What’s he doing to improve the world?”

  “There are worst things than looking at butts and breasts all day.”

  “I said sagging butts and breasts.”

  Roque was saved from answering when Brett’s voice rang out on the intercom. “Sir, Ms. Marlowe Jones is here. She says you’re expecting her.”

  What a pleasant surprise. Finally, she was ready to sign the paperwork. “Send her in.”

  Roque reached in the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept her file. Normally, Brett kept everything neatly filed in another room, but since this was a time-sensitive deal, Roque kept Marlowe’s info right here next to him. He stood in front of his desk, ready to welcome her. Seconds later, Marlowe barged in. From the furious scowl on her face, Roque knew something was wrong.

  He barely had time to register the white t-shirt and denim cutoff shorts she wore. His eyes dropped to the pair of long legs sporting black, clunky work boots. Creamy, toned thighs and shapely calves made him swallow hard.

  He was so busy staring at her smooth brown skin he was caught off-guard when she stormed toward him and jabbed her finger in his chest, wrinkling the fabric of his silk shirt.

  “How dare you?” she yelled.

  “I beg your pardon. Is there a problem?”

  “Don’t beg me, you cold-hearted brute. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You and your cleanup crew have crossed the line!”

  “Oh, you’re referring to Juan at We Haul. You told me about your situation and I was only trying to help.”

  Her eyes flashed and her chest heaved. To say she was pissed was an understatement. “Help? Help whom? You certainly weren’t helping me. You’re not looking out for my best interests. All you want to do is swallow up those homes so you can build your precious mall.”

  “I’m building high-rise condos and a retail center.”