Addicted to You

  To the extent that the images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  * * *

  This ROYALTY PUBLISHING HOUSE book is being published by

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  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  * * *

  Copyright © 2019 by Porscha Sterling

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

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  ISBN: 978-1496726094

  ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-7343994-0-0

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  Cover Designer: Marion Designs

  Editor: Zane Strebor

  Format: Nina Simmons Designs, Inc.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Author’s Note

  1

  Sage

  * * *

  “We should get tattoos.”

  Frowning, I glanced in the passenger seat at my best and only friend, Lola, knowing for sure I hadn’t heard her right. I loved her to death but, right then, I wasn’t so sure that she hadn’t lost her mind.

  Every girl needed the type of friend who was loyal to the end, the kind of friend who would fight first and ask questions later for you if it came down to it. For me, that was Lola. We had become close on my first day of boarding school. I was the awkward Black girl, pushed into a world that I’d never experienced before after my father had sent me away. I didn’t want to leave; I didn’t understand why I couldn’t go to a school in the city so I could stay home with him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. He’d told me that Calvin’s Preparatory School for Girls was the best and he’d only have the best for his little girl. Turned out, he was right, as usual.

  When people saw me, the words ‘entitled,’ ‘spoiled,’ and ‘brat’ were probably what first came to mind but, if they had known my story, they would’ve known that I was anything but that. It was true, I had everything that money could buy, never spent a single day of my life being denied the things that I wanted, and it could’ve been argued that I was entitled because I only felt that I deserved the best. But the difference between the average rich kid and me was that I had worked hard for every single thing that I had and if I wanted something, I didn’t mind putting in the effort to get it.

  I was like my father in that way. He was the hardest working man I’d ever known.

  My daddy came from nothing and made something, and not in the way that people say when they finally get a job making enough to cover the rent. He’d built an empire that provided enough wealth to take care of his great-great-grandkids. He was a hard worker in the greatest sense of the word. Because of that, he had a legacy that would live forever and he’d started it by carrying it on his back. He never met a challenge that he couldn’t conquer; never saw a deal that he couldn’t close on. He was relentless, powerful, strong-willed and, when he died, all of those traits continued to live through me. His only child.

  After graduating with honors from Calvin Prep, I had my pick of Yale, Harvard, and Princeton. I wanted to go to Spelman so I could be home with my daddy but he wouldn’t have it, so I chose Princeton since that was Lola’s pick as well. Spending those four years with her, getting our Bachelors, were the best of my life. But the worst day ever came about a week before graduation when I was told that my father had died. Two years had passed since then, but I didn’t think I’d ever fully get over living my life without my daddy in it.

  “Tattoos?” I replied, shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Lola sucked her teeth, crossing her arms in front of her chest. I sighed and looked out the front windshield at the packed interstate in front of me. There was an accident that slowed traffic down to the point that it was stop-and-go…more ‘stops’ than ‘gos,’ that is. As it was, we’d been in the same exact spot for over five minutes.

  I broke my stare away from the thick Atlanta traffic to glance once more at my sulking best friend and sighed again at her stubborn expression. She had a trump card that she could use in order to get her way and, even though I was praying to God that she wouldn’t, I knew she would use it.

  “Sage, this is my birthday and I flew all the way down here so that I could spend it with you before I go to medical school and you become an…” She curled up her nose at me. “…official adult.”

  My lips broke into a smile at the way she said the words like they stunk. If Lola could have, she would’ve been a child forever. The only reason she was even going to medical school was because it delayed the time until she would be responsible for her own bills.

  “With my schedule in medical school and with you being officially placed on the board of your father’s company, there’s no telling when we will see each other again. I’ve wanted a tattoo forever, but I haven’t gotten one yet. So your birthday gift to me can be you getting one with me. Please?” She clasped her hands together as if in prayer and gave me a sweet smile that was the tool she used to always get her way.

  I pursed my lips for a few seconds to think but there was no point because I already knew what I was going to do. Lola was my best friend and that wouldn’t be the first time she’d pressured me into doing things that I didn’t want to. She would call it ‘making memories’ and I had to admit that those times when I gave in did lead to some of the funniest or most adventurous moments in my life.

  “Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Let’s make a memory.”

  “YES!” Lola shouted and then squealed with her hands in the air. She pressed a button in between us and the roof of my Mercedes convertible lowered right in the middle of traffic. Rays of sunlight burned into my eyes and I grabbed my shades to place them on my face.

  “Girl, what are you doing?”

  “I’m living!” Lola said, standing up with her face and arms pointed up at the sky. “You have a few more days before you’ll be on the board, Sage. You’re not an adult yet. You should live, too.”

  With that said, she reached down and turned on my radio, cutting the volume up high before dancing to some new jam by the City Girls. Mortified, I looked around at the cars around us and noticed that all eyes were on Lola, who was dancing like she was in the middle of the dancefloor at the club. She worked her hips like she was earning bill money to do it, laughing and singing to the top of her lungs without a care in the world.

  “Work them hips, ma! You sexy!” I heard some man yell, followed by several hoots. That only encouraged Lola all the more.

  “Oh God!” I said, laughing with my hand over my mouth.

  I couldn’t believe what she was doing but I also couldn’t say that part of me wasn’t a bit
jealous. Lola was the carefree, adventurous one who lived her life without regret. Everyone loved her because she was that way. She was so fun to be around because she knew and loved herself. I wasn’t that way at all. I was much too concerned with what others thought of me. The only time I was able to break free of that was when Lola was with me.

  “C’mon, Sage! Traffic won’t be moving for a while. Let’s dance!”

  Reaching down, Lola grabbed me by my arm and pulled me up with her as a new song started. This one was a hot new song that I couldn’t resist. A week from now, I would be an official board member of my father’s company, under heavy scrutiny and pressured to ensure the success of the empire he’d built. But, in that moment, I was simply me.

  Here’s to making memories, I thought.

  With my eyes closed and my arms lifted in the air, I started to dance.

  2

  Sage

  * * *

  “Do you think it will hurt?” I asked, suddenly feeling uneasy.

  The time of dancing was over, the woes of disaster traffic was a thing of the past, and now I was being forced to make good on my promise to Lola, who was still adamant about getting tattoos. After thinking for a short while about what I wanted permanently drawn on my body, the idea came to me. It felt right but the thought of needles made my stomach queasy.

  Lola laughed and rolled her eyes. “Even if it does, that lil’ thing you picked out won’t have you hurting for long.”

  I wasn’t persuaded and she could see it in my eyes.

  She came over and peered down at the picture on my phone. “Why’d you pick that anyway? I would’ve thought you would get a rose or something.”

  I shrugged my response and then lifted my eyes to the glowing sign in front of me that read Official Ink. Catching my lower lip between my teeth, I shifted my feet nervously. According to Lola, the owner of the shop, a guy who called himself Ink, was somewhat of a celebrity in the city and was the best at doing tattoos. He’d received several offers to film a reality show in his shop, something more like Miami Ink than Black Ink with more tattoos and less drama, but he’d turned each offer down. Lola said he was the type of celebrity who seemed to hate the spotlight, which only added to his allure.

  “Let’s go,” Lola said, grabbing me by the wrist. “I made our appointment back when I booked my flight and we can’t be late.”

  My jaw dropped. “So you plotted on me!”

  She laughed and then rolled her eyes. “Don’t call it plotting. Call it advance planning. Besides, I scheduled your appointment with Ink so you should thank me. You’re welcome!”

  Without another word said, she walked ahead, pulled open the front door, and disappeared into the shop, leaving me staring in shock on the sidewalk outside.

  “This is the last time I’m letting her trick me into shit,” I mumbled to myself.

  My stiletto nails drummed along the arm of my leather chair as I bounced my leg nervously, waiting for whatever was coming next. I was all checked in, and had been taken to a station towards the back of the shop to wait. The inside of Official Ink appealed to the senses. Not only was it beautifully designed and decorated, but there were essential oil lamps around, blowing a scented vapor throughout that was somewhat calming.

  The walls were covered with artwork that almost seemed too good to be true. Tattooed portraits of people that looked so real, you could see the reflections in their eyes. I scanned the pictures of their past clients and recognized many celebrities and political figures in the city. I swallowed hard and tried to calm my nerves, telling myself that I was in good company.

  “Ink will be with you in a few minutes,” the receptionist, who had introduced herself as Indie, told me with a smile. She was pretty with a gentle face and soft eyes that provided me some comfort. But not much.

  “He’s the best at this. You’ll be fine.”

  I could tell that she knew I was nervous and was trying to put me at ease.

  A guy named MiKale was doing Lola’s tattoo in a closed room behind where I sat. She was getting a thorny rose bush on the left cheek of her ass. Though she let it be known that she didn’t mind having it done out front in the open, she was escorted to the back.

  “Alright. Let’s get this shit started,” a deep voice spoke from behind.

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t have to recognize his voice to know that it was Ink. Chill bumps rose up across the skin of my arms, though it wasn’t cold. For some reason, I was terrified, and I wasn’t completely sure why. I wasn’t a punk; being brave was in my pedigree. But there was something about that moment that made me feel like what I was doing would completely change the course of my entire life.

  “That’s all you want? The lil’ bird on your phone?”

  I opened my eyes, feeling a presence hovering above me.

  “Yes, I—”

  I lifted my eyes to his face and my words instantly caught in my throat. He was a beautiful man, taller than average height, thick with muscles that put the perfect finishing touches on his athletic physique. Tattooed art nearly covered his body; he even had a few markings on his face. Dead center on his neck was a tattoo of a red lipstick kiss. My eyes lingered there for a moment as I stared at it.

  This man is fuckin’ fine!

  I couldn’t remember a single time in my life when I’d been so immediately attracted to a man. Not ever. I wasn’t the type to lose my words in front of anyone. Though I was a controlled person and modest, in comparison to Lola, confidence was something I didn’t lack. I wasn’t afraid to speak to anyone but… damn. Ink had me speechless.

  With brooding eyes, he stared down at me under hooded lids, waiting for me to answer. There was such intensity in his expression that it was hard for me to even recall the words that I was searching for.

  “Um…”

  “The bird. That’s what you want? You know my minimum is a grand, right?”

  My brows pinched.

  No, I didn’t know that. Lola must’ve forgotten to mention it.

  “It’s okay. And yes, this is all I want.”

  I saw judgement in his eyes. He probably thought I was crazy or maybe even one of the many fans I saw sitting around the front of the shop—girls who were there to get a tattoo but with the real motive of getting closer to him in the process.

  “Where do you want it?”

  My cheeks warmed.

  Anywhere you wanna put it, was my first thought.

  “Right here... on my wrist,” is what I said instead.

  He lifted one brow to catch my eyes.

  “That’s a sensitive spot. Might hurt more than other areas, like your shoulder, back, or upper thigh.”

  The image of him running his hands across my upper thigh, holding the skin in place as he first sketched out the design before making it permanent, made my stomach flutter.

  “Um...” I swallowed hard, cutting my eyes away from him. “It’s okay. I’ll do my wrist.”

  He shrugged and a slight frown knotted his brows.

  “Your choice.”

  3

  Ink

  * * *

  “Yo, Ink, you left your phone in the back. The shit been ringing back to back. I could hear it from my station and it’s messing up the vibe I’m trying to set up with ole’ girl.”

  Lifting my head, I gave Kale a pointed look as he walked up from the back holding my phone in his hands. His ass was always trying to fuck the clients, no matter how much it was bad for business. I’d only messed with a client once and I was still dealing with the blowback from that shit.

  “Man, I heard it, but I ain’t trying to answer it. I already know who it is.”

  “Nah, don’t tell me,” Kale said, smirking so hard that his already slanted eyes were nearly closed. “It can’t be that Brisha chick.”

  I snorted air out through my nose and nodded. “I hung up on her crazy ass before I came out here. I should’ve known she would’ve started blowing up my phone. I should’ve turned it off.”


  Kale laughed as I pulled out everything I needed for my next tattoo. I didn’t crack a smile because I didn’t find anything funny. Brisha was a reminder of why I had to stick to certain rules. Once broken, there was always a consequence and dealing with the drama that came from a crazy, clingy chick was too high a price to pay.

  “I saw her last night. I had an appearance at that new club in Midtown. She was standing in line to get in and I guess she thought I was gon’ let her ride my clout to score a seat in V.I.P. I curbed her ass and now she’s threatening to come down to my spot and put on a show that would have me on TMZ, The Shade Room, and Baller Alert.”

  Kale erupted into laughter at that and I shook my head. The girl in my seat shifted, looking in the opposite direction from us. I could tell she was trying to act like she wasn’t listening but she was definitely all ears. Who wouldn’t be? If it wasn’t happening to me, maybe I would’ve found the situation entertaining, too.

  “It ain’t funny, man. The shit is pissing me off.” Lifting my tool in my hand, I let it run for a few seconds to warm it up. “That’s why I’m solo from here on out. The next one that I get with will have to be the one. Until then, it’s just my daughter and me.”

  Kale’s brows jumped. “Solo? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Better believe it, nigga.” I looked at him with all seriousness. “I’m sick of this shit.”