Heated by Niobia Bryant Read Free Book Online

slam his massive fist down on the desk. “He had the audacity to tell me I could either sell it to him outright or he’d get it one way or another eventually.”
    Bianca’s anger began to stir. Yes, Kahron Strong made her panties moist, but she truly didn’t know the man from a can of paint. How badly did he want the King land?
    “Did you tell the police?” Bianca asked.
    Hank snorted in obvious derision. “Said there’s no proof.”
    “Well, first thing Monday I’m going to pay the property taxes and settle some of these bills,” Bianca said,hating the disappointment she felt that Kahron Strong might very well be her enemy.
    “Bunny, you can’t—”
    Bianca nodded as she tallied the bills on a calculator. “I can and I will.”
    “Bunny—”
    Bianca held up her hand as she pierced him with her eyes. “Daddy, trust me, right now you got bigger fish to fry then worrying about how I spend my money.”
    Hank look at her with curiosity. “The booze, huh?”
    Bianca nodded. “Oh definitely that and you have to tell Trishon there’s a freeze on all outgoing funds effective immediately.”
    Hank’s face fell and he looked like telling his wife that bit of news was far harder then giving up the liquor.
     
    Trishon parked her vehicle outside the Belks department store in Walterboro. She went sashaying into one of the few stores in the small town where you could buy designer clothing.
    She really wasn’t looking for anything in particular. She just needed to get out of the house. With Hank and his precious Bianca holed up in his study, she felt a little… left out.
    She would never admit it to a living soul, but Bianca intimidated her with her smarts and her money. Trishon hadn’t met too many women that made her doubt herself, especially since the day she snagged Hank King. Once she became Mrs. King she finally got the respect she always felt she deserved. Money had a way of getting respect in a small southern town.
    When people saw her they saw a wealthy man’s wife, not the picky head little girl who grew up in a 14 X 60 metal trailer that didn’t have running water or nearlyenough space to accommodate the six children who lived their with their mother, grandmother, and aunt—all of whom were considered “slow” by the townspeople and the state.
    Many a night they had nothing but dreams of food for dinner. When they did have food it was hardly a feast with stuff like fried salt pork and dry rice. Once they ate just the pot liquor that was left from collard greens they had the week before.
    She always knew she wanted—and was going to have—better.
    The only thing Trishon thought she had going for her was the way men liked to be in her company and tell her she was pretty and buy her nice things. So, she learned from a young age how to get what she wanted with what she had.
    Most times she hated the feel of the men’s hands and the sounds of their grunting as they pumped away between her cold thighs, but sometimes—every once in a while—a man’s hands would warm her, soothe her, and make her feel wanted for the first time in a long time.
    It didn’t matter if they didn’t have the decency to buy a nice hotel room to fill her with their desire. They would park deep in the woods in their cars and whisper heated words of her beauty in the back seat. Only to ignore her in the light of day.
    But that was behind her now.
    “How are you today, Mrs. King?”
    Trishon looked up surprised by the saleswoman’s voice behind her. She smiled, pushing away her memories. “I’m fine, just fine,” she said.
    Yes, she was Mrs. Hank King, and the days of hunger, shame, poverty, and pity were long behind her.

4
    Sunday afternoon after fighting her way though Tri-shon’s dinner of meatloaf with a cornflake crust and mash potatoes—with the skin—Bianca turned her Volvo down the drive leading to Circle S Ranch. Finding the ranch hadn’t been a problem because Kahron had purchased the old MacDonald Farm and