Page 2 of Surrender Your Heart
To some, I was an investor in real estate. Maybe a little crypto. The safe, grown-man version of a hustler. I made my first million on a bet. Not in Vegas. Not in a casino. In a warehouse on the outskirts of Houston. Some rare pieces moved through there—jewels, stolen tech, blood diamonds, pharmaceuticals that hadn’t touched shelves yet. I didn’t lift a single box. I flipped access. Brokered silence. Monetized secrecy. Then I took thatdirty-ass million, washed it through a string of LLCs, built a clean brand around it, and stacked another. And another.
Some of my best real estate investments never had a tenant. Just codes, stash points, backdoor meetings, front-facing legit ventures like bars, lounges, and overpriced condos for out-of-town buyers who didn’t ask questions.
See, I didn’t sell drugs. I sold structure. Systems. Supply chains that could move anything. Guns. Designer pills. Black-market art. And I never apologized for it. I was raised by women who ain’t never had shit but pride and hustle. No silver spoon. No generational blueprint. Just food stamps and fire in their chests. I watched them make miracles with nothing and promised myself I’d never beg for crumbs. Now I was wealth in human form. Billionaire status. Forbes covers and shit. Power in black skin. Danger wrapped in discipline.
I’d been around the world twice this quarter. I closed three deals, launched two subsidiaries, and walked away from one multimillion-dollar merger cause I didn’t like the muthafuckas handshake. Life was better than good, but the only thing I hadn’t handled was Honey. I knew what it was when I offered her that surrender weekend. Rather, I knew what the fuck it was supposed to be. An opportunity to see another beautiful, ambitious woman reach her full potential. I loved that shit.
What I provided women—sexual release, a listening ear, resources, and money—allowed me to never get too attached. It was always supposed to be an experience and nothing more, but somehow, someway, Honey got past all my defenses.
A whole fucking year and some change had passed since that weekend, and I still couldn’t shake the way she grippedme when she moaned my name. Couldn’t forget the way she lit up when she spoke about her business dreams. Her body, her energy, her fire—all of it had lived in my head since the minute she was driven away from my villa. I hadn’t planned on doubling back, but here I was.
“Itinerary is all set for Montserra,” my assistant, Callen, said as she entered the private wing of my estate. “I’ve got the jet crew set up and the island team already prepping the villa just in case.”
“I appreciate you, Cal.” I turned to face her, and she had that look on her face. The one where she was about to say something slick. “What?”
She cleared her throat. “You want the truth or the filtered answer?”
I smirked. “Give me both.”
“When I checked in a few days ago with the security team, your girl looks happy and successful. Like she glowed the fuck up and has no intentions of looking back.”
I gulped down the rest of my drink and walked over to the couch. Sitting down, I slid my thumb across my bottom lip, eying Callen. “She’ll accept the invitation.”
Callen tilted her head. “Maybe. I guess we’ll see.”
That made me smile. See, I wasn’t worried. More like restless. Honey had me like that. Had me pull some strings to get the security cameras in her storefront linked in a way I could occasionally see what she was up to, how business was doing, and what she had going on. I wanted her bad.
“She’s not sure if she’s ready,” Callen added.
“She will be,” I said, standing up and adjusting the cuffs on my black button-down shirt. “She just needs a little more… persuasion.”
Callen raised a brow. “Legend persuasion or billionaire asshole persuasion?”
“Both.” I walked toward the bar, poured myself another drink, and swirled it in the glass. “She needs to understand,” I said, my voice low. “I never offered two invitations to the same woman. I don’tmisspeople. But for her?” I took a slow sip and stared out at the infinity pool glistening under the sun. “I’ll make an exception, so send that shit.”
Callen looked up from her iPad. “The confirmation?”
“Nah. Make it personal this time. She needs to feel me in her chest, Cal.”
Her lips twitched. “Are you dictating or typing?”
“I’ll dictate. You type.”
She got the email ready.
To: Honey Lake
From: L.A.W. Global Holdings
Subject: Confirmed Itinerary + Personal Invitation
Message: “When I send for you, you cum. Get outta that pretty little head of yours. I’ll see you soon.”
—Legend
Callen finished typing, then looked up. “You sure you wanna hit send?”
I stared at the screen for a minute, then said, “Do it.”
