Boujee Black Baddies Romance Bundle

These billionaires won’t know what hit them once they meet these twelve feisty Black women! They think they are cutting a deal...but they don’t realize what is really on the line.

Dive into the hottest fake marriage romances with this set from Tyla Walker! With stories that will keep you on the edge of your seat, you’ll never want to put them down!

The Price of Passion

Ren

“I know where Ren is,” I tell her in a soft voice, making it seem like a secret.

Judging from what the woman is wearing, I’m guessing she’s a rich art curator. She’s probably here for my and my father’s paintings, same as everyone else who comes looking for me.

I could have some fun. More importantly, this woman could use some fun. She seems very stressed out. I chuckle inwardly as she sits back down across from me, interested.

There’s a sparkle in her eyes that makes her face light up, and when her expression isn’t so pinched, she’s beautiful. Stuffy, yes, but I ache to ruffle my fingers in her hair and peel that blazer away. 

Easy there. You’ve just been cooped up for too long. She is nothing but trouble – and not in the good way. 

“And?” she says, raising an eyebrow at me.

I lean toward her, the smell of carbonara wafting to me. “Tell me your name first.”

The woman tilts her head, her amber eyes catching the sunlight in a way that makes them flash gold. It’s a beautiful color. On a beautiful face.

“And if I don’t tell you my name?”

Too bad she’s got a bitchy attitude.

I lean back with my arms crossed, not breaking eye contact with her. “Well, miss, an eye for an eye.”

“My name’s Jennifer. Jennifer Allair,” she says, holding my gaze.

“Hi, Jennifer,” I smile at her.

“So where’s Ren?” Jennifer asks, irritation evident in her voice. 

“Jennifer,” I pause. “I’ll tell you when you finish your carbonara. You look famished.”

As if she’s been walking around all day.

She stares at me for a few seconds before looking back down at her food and starts eating without a word. I would say she’s thankful to have a minute to herself, but her face is that of stone.

Once Jennifer is done eating, she stands up right away.

“Now, show me where Ren is.”

I smile, standing up. “Of course, come with me.” Discreetly, I signal to the cook to hold off my carbonara orders.

We walk out of the restaurant, and Jennifer strides beside me as I explain to her ‘where Ren is.’

“Ren frequents a restaurant around here. He’s always there at this hour, you know, brainstorming his crazy ideas.” I chuckle and give her a you-know-how-Ren-can-be sort of look.

“Are you sure he’ll be there? I don’t have time to waste,” she asks firmly.

“Oh, I’m a hundred percent sure. There’s no chance I’m wrong.”

I glance at her. She has a determined look on her face, which makes me feel bad about what I’m doing. Just a little, though.

We reach the pizza place, one of my favorites, and stop abruptly in front of the door.

“This is the restaurant.”

She immediately lifts her hand to the door to open it, but before she could push it open, I grab her wrist.

“We have to be discreet, Jennifer. We can’t just barge in and yell his name. That would make a scene,” I tell her earnestly.

Jennifer drops her hand, facing me. “So what do you suggest we do?”

“Well, let’s order a few things and scout the place to find out where he is.”

She hesitates, and I say, “Come on, it’s a sure-fire way to find him. That’s why you’re here, right?”

Jennifer rolls her eyes and pushes the door open, following a server as he leads her to a table. I tail behind them, glad that my plan is working.

After ordering a small pizza, Jennifer watches the people around us like a hawk. There aren't many people to begin with, but she obviously has no idea what I look like.

“Where is he?” she demands impatiently.

“He’ll be here, don’t worry,” I answer without missing a beat. “We just have to wait.”

The server puts the pizza on the table, and I happily devour the entire thing while Jennifer keeps her eyes glued to the entrance.

Twenty minutes later, the server sets the bill on the table, and I stare at it. I clear my throat to get Jennifer’s attention.

“Uh… I kinda forgot to bring cash.” I scratch the back of my neck, smiling sheepishly at her.

Jennifer rolls her eyes and takes out her wallet. It’s thick with cash—hundred bills—and I smile. I feel better about tricking her for free food. She puts money on the table and stands up from her chair, not bothering to wait for the change.

“There’s no one here,” she hisses as she walks away. “You said Ren would be here for sure. No one else came through the door. I’m leaving.”

She’s annoyed I wasted her time, but I’m not done yet.

“Look, I’m sorry.” I jog after her to explain, “I forgot today’s a weekend. He’s in a different restaurant. I can show you.”

Jennifer stops walking, and I stay still behind her. She’ll fall for it for sure. I’m the only one who’s entertained her about finding me because the people in this village ignore anyone who tries.

I’m her only chance, and she knows it.

“Fine.” She’s still not facing me. “Ren better be there, or I’m leaving.”

Arriving at the restaurant, Ren is not there. I ‘forgot’ that he actually goes to another restaurant on Sundays. I was able to have spaghetti—sponsored by Jennifer—before going to the next restaurant.

I’m eating ice cream at our third restaurant when Jennifer stands up from her seat, leaving the payment for my ice cream on the table. I hurriedly finish up and follow her as she looks around without any luck.

She abruptly turns around to face me, her face scrunched up in annoyance.

“You dragged me across town to waste time. We’ve been to three places and Ren still hasn’t shown up.”

“You’re wrong, though,” I tell her, now feeling guilty about tricking her.

“I don’t have time for this.” She shakes her head and walks past me.

“Ren was in all three of the restaurants we went to,” I call back to her.

She stops, then turns to me slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s right. You never bothered to learn my name.” I shake my head in mock disappointment. “It was nice meeting you. I’m not selling my pieces, though.”