The McShannons Series: A BWWM Alpha Billionaire Interracial Romance Complete Boxset (African American Contemporary Short Stories Collection) Read online

  TheMcShannons

  The Complete Series

  His Desire | His Love | His Passion

  Copyright © 2015 by Veronica Maxim

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  His Desire

  Copyright © 2015 by Veronica Maxim

  All rights reserved.

  KENYA

  I stand next to the dessert table, sipping Dom Pérignon out of a Swarovski flute. It’s so delicate I’m afraid to put too much pressure on it with my fingers for fear it might shatter. I watched the guests in the beautifully appointed ballroom dancing or chatting underneath crystal chandeliers and I couldn’t let myself at least wonder how the money spent on one of these formal events could go far in feeding the homeless and hungry within the city’s borders.

  I glanced to my right where a table full of delicacies sat against the wall. It and six others held any type of delicacy one could think of, and even things that I myself never dreamt of before I became a part of the social elite. The guests had their fill of the exquisite buffet and moved on to dance on the glossy ballroom floor underneath the ornate crystal chandeliers.

  Although I am part of this world now…a part that I worked for and believed with all my heart I deserved, I couldn’t help but think of all the people who were going hungry tonight while we celebrate ourselves in excess. As my light brown eyes touch on the designer gowns and suits that fill the beautifully appointed ballroom in the largest and swankiest mansion in the city, I realize that thoughts like that are likely what sets me apart from most of these people. That, and I didn’t come from money…I simply earned it.

  I sat down the delicate glass and smoothed my delicate plum dress down with one gloved hand as I repositioned the ornate mask I wore across my eyes with the other. Tonight’s event was a masquerade ball. It was being held to raise money for childhood cancer. It’s a noble cause and I applaud the people who host an event of this magnitude…yet again I couldn’t help but wonder if each of these people were to give only one percent of their net wealth to the cause, if perhaps we could stamp it out altogether.

  Maybe my mind was only working overtime tonight. The past few weeks had been a veritable tsunami of filings and motions and counter motions and depositions… This coming week would see the close of the biggest trial of my life to date…one of the biggest that Boston had ever seen.

  The McShannons were the cornerstone of Boston’s organized crime underworld and had been so for decades. The city spent years and millions to bring the elder McShannon to trial. Now that he was there, it was up to me to make sure that he was convicted and put away for the rest of his natural life. No pressure there.

  I suddenly felt like I could hardly breathe. I made my way to the French doors in the back of the room and slipped outside. I found myself in a beautiful garden with a labyrinth of paths that wound through verdant green plants and flowers blooming in vivid color.

  I went forward along one of the paths, now breathing in the sweet perfume of the flowers that lingered in the air. I stopped next to a decorative bench and looked up at the sky.

  When I’d arrived earlier this evening while the sunlight was still trying to linger, the sky had been streaked with breathtaking lines of salmon and purple. Since I’d been inside, it had transformed into a vast expanse of black. The only source of light came from the windows of the grand mansion and the small canopy of luminous stars that had begun to materialize against the ocean of darkness. I sigh, grateful to have a moment to myself.

  ​I was caught up in my admiration of the sky when I heard his voice. It was quite possibly the richest, silkiest baritone I’d ever heard. I was so caught up in the tenor of it alone that I didn’t catch the words.

  I turned around and I came face to chest with a god. The chest I was staring at was broad and the finely tailored silk shirt underneath the open jacket of his expensive suit hugged every hard line and bulge. His shoulders were just as broad and when I tipped my head back to look up at his face I saw hair that was midnight black and dark brown eyes framed by long, thick lashes looking out at me from behind his glittering silk mask. His skin was lightly tanned and even underneath the mask I could tell that his cheekbones were prominent. His lips were sensuous for a man and his gorgeous face ended in a well-defined chin.

  ​ I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. My mouth was dry and it was hard to speak.

  “Excuse me? I’m sorry but I didn’t hear what you said.”

  ​“I said it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A smile tugged at the corner of his sinful mouth.

  ​“Oh! Yes. It’s all so pretty that it’s a little bit overwhelming.”

  What was overwhelming was having this man in my space. My brain wanted me to take a step back, but my body refused to move. I was suddenly at war with myself over a stranger…but what a stranger he was. I could feel my breath quicken as something began to unfurl and flutter inside my chest.

  ​“Are you enjoying the party?”

  ​“Yes, it’s very nice.”

  ​He smiled. The smile was as beautiful as the rest of him.

  “Then why are you out here all alone?”

  ​ I smiled back, his was contagious. “I just needed some air,” I told him.

  ​“Do you like the flowers?” He nodded to the blooms.

  ​“Yes, I love them. It smells so good out here.”

  ​“Which ones are your favorites?”

  ​ “The orange and white hybrid roses.” I’d just been admiring them. The orange was so bright and fiery that against the white petals they stood out even in the dark.

  He reached out and plucked one and then as he leaned his head down close to my ear he tucked the flower behind it. He touched me but surprisingly I didn’t take a step back. Did I need a distraction so badly that I was going to let this happen?

  I could feel the heat of his breath as he said, “The garden doesn’t look as beautiful as usual tonight…do you want to know why?”

  I swallowed again, trying to force the lump in my throat down so it wasn’t so hard to speak. “Why?”

  “You’re a thousand times more beautiful.”

  I hate to admit it, but his words sent a tingle through my entire body. I have no idea what I was going to say but before I could speak his arms were surrounding my waist.

  He locked them at my lower back and that forced my hands that were trapped between us, up against his hard chest. I could feel the heat from his skin through his shirt and it ignited a fire in my palms that shot down my spine and awakened every one of my senses. The rise and fall of his chest and the rhythmic beating of his heart were magnified inside of my head. My breasts were pressed up against his rib cage and the friction was causing me to shiver in his arms.

  “Who are you?”

  He didn’t answer me with words. Instead he slid his hands up the open back of my dress and trailed his long fingers across my skin.

  Goosebumps began skating across the flesh he came in contact with. I felt light-headed…dizzy. I pushed my hands against his chest so that I could look up at his face.
He looked down at me as he slid those magic hands upwards and rested them on either side of my neck. He let his thumbs reach up and rub my jaw with slow, sensuous swipes as his smile disappeared and his eyes fell to my lips and neck. This man was going to kiss me. The real question was am I actually going to just stand here and let him?

  “I want you,” he breathed out. Oh God…I felt a rush of moisture between my legs. I am attracted to him, there’s no denying that I wanted him too…but why? Who is he?

  He leaned forward and let his lips linger just a breath away from mine. I surprisingly had no intentions of fighting it. I closed my eyes, expecting to feel them crash down on mine…Instead, he used the hold he had on me to tip my chin down and kiss me on my forehead. Suprising. But he wasn’t done.

  He gently ran his nose down my hairline so his mouth once again rested against my ear.

  “You smell so good, beautiful...”

  I never thought it was possible, but I was melting underneath this stranger’s touch. My fingers were flexing against his firm chest and chills raced through my body as heat flooded my system.

  He let his hands fist in my hair and he used that hold to tilt my head back. His full lips lightly brushed along mine before they traveled down the side of my face to my neck and then across my bare shoulder. He let that sexy mouth of his linger there, licking my golden skin and nipping at me with his teeth.

  I think I moaned as I pressed my aching breasts into him. I felt him smile against my flesh and then I felt the vibrations of that deep voice.

  “Is that good, baby? You like that?”

  I still couldn’t speak as his lips traveled back to my neck and he began placing open-mouthed kisses across it. Fireworks were exploding in my head and my knees had literally gone so weak that if his strong arms weren’t holding me up, I would have gone down. My brain and my body were still warring, but my body was ahead by a mile. I wanted his lips against mine and the weight of his body pressing me into a set of satin sheets.

  I concentrated on his lips as they covered mine warmly and his tongue slipped into my mouth and began an exploration that left no surface untouched. I heard and felt a low growl rumble from deep inside his chest and then as suddenly as he had appeared in the garden, he removed his lips from mine, turned me towards the bench and gently sat me down. He flashed me one more dazzling smile before disappearing into the night.

  What the hell just happened?

  SHANE

  I left the claustrophobia of my father’s ridiculously palatial mansion in my running clothes and I began to run as soon as my feet hit the sidewalk. The soles of my running shoes kissed the pavement and after a mile or two, my muscles began to warm. I ran towards the park, but instead of jogging through it, I ran past…towards the Eastside where the tall concrete and glass buildings loomed large against the early morning sun. Running cleared my head, and I needed that today more than ever.

  I had to decide what I was going to say before I walked into that courtroom later today. I’ve known that I would be called as a witness for weeks now, but how I should answer the pretty prosecutor’s questions still eluded me.

  My Pop is Braden McShannon. He’s currently on trial and being held without bail on multiple charges. I say multiple because at the last count it was over twelve different charges…too many for me to list, definitely too many for me to defend.

  The charges that would land him in prison for life without the possibility of parole came from the murder and dismemberment of two detectives that had infiltrated the “family.” The state prosecutor calls it “the organization.” It’s all the same thing to my father.

  His soldiers, if they’re loyal, are as important to him as his sons. I knew a lot about what happened behind the scenes in the “family.” I knew that the two detectives had been made as cops by one of my Pop’s “soldiers,” and I knew that my father gave the orders for their deaths. The bodies were found stuffed inside two large suitcases on a ferry headed from Boston to Salem.

  I remember when the news of that hit the papers, I was physically ill all day, knowing that this was my father who could order a thing like that. I wanted out…and if my Pops went to prison for life, I’d finally have a way out for good.

  It’s not that I haven’t tried before…If I left, he would always send someone to find me and when they hauled me back up in front of him he would say, “Family is forever Shane. You don’t walk away because you disagree with something one of them might do. You’re breaking your mother’s heart, and one of these days, her coddling won’t be enough to protect you. You need to be more like your brothers and accept the fact that I know what I’m doing here. Have faith in me, Shane. I’m your father.”

  What he doesn’t know is that my brothers are as ready to wash their hands of him as I am, I just happen to be the only one willing to tell him that to his face. I admit that the lifestyle we lead is an addictive one…but there are some lines that should never be crossed no matter how powerful you become. You have to ask yourself how happily you can live on money that had blood all over it.

  A month ago, my mother had come to me in my office. “Shane, I’ve been married to your father for forty years now.”

  I smiled at the time, unsure why she was telling me what I already knew. My parents were married for ten years before they had any children. My mother thought she was barren but suddenly my brother Patrick was conceived and then a year and a half later I came along, and then Colin.

  Ma finally had her perfect Irish Catholic family. It was everything she had dreamed of as a girl…except that I’d be willing to bet she had never dreamed of being married to a mobster…and most especially she hadn’t dreamt that someday that mobster would be the head of a crime syndicate that spanned several states.

  “Yes, I know Ma. I’ve been there for a few of the anniversary parties, remember?”

  “You know that I would never ask you to do anything that might cause harm to you…” she’d paused again, studying my face. It was like she hoped I knew what she wanted to say and I would volunteer it before she had to say it.

  “Shane, I want you to put your father away.” I was glad that I was sitting down or I may have fallen out of my chair. In my twenty-eight years of life, my ears had never heard her speak an ill word about my father…no matter how many times he so richly deserved it.

  “You want me to testify against him? In open court?”

  She put her hand on my arm and her hazel eyes plead with me while she struggled to keep her face neutral.

  “I want you to know that it’s okay to do the right thing.”

  We both knew what that was. I had more information on my father and his operations than anyone. I was his middle son, but I was his right hand in our businesses - everything except murder. I’d refused to take part in any of that long ago and he had let me get away with it. That was what he meant by her “coddling” not helping me any longer. He told her all the time that she was making us soft and that we needed to “grow a pair.”

  The first time I ever stood up to him was when I told him I wouldn’t have any part in taking a life. His response had been to chuckle and say, “Look at you, growing a conscience. Too bad you can’t grow a pair of balls instead.”

  That remark had only given me the final push I needed. I had my own business, a legitimate one when he wasn’t using it to launder his dirty money. I was in the import/export business and at twenty-eight I had done well for myself. I started focusing more on my own operations and less on his. I had even moved out of that mausoleum he passed off as a home.

  That day I had looked at my mother and nodded. Neither of us felt compelled to take the conversation any further than that…but I had spoken with Pat and Colin about it later. Neither of them objected to me following my “conscience.”

  As I remembered all of that, I turned down a street that led me into the Commons. I was still running at full speed, panting for every breath.

  I finally stopped when I got to Broadway. I went to a l
ittle juice bar there and got myself a smoothie with an energy boost. I was going to need it. I took my drink and walked back out into the cool air, filling my lungs with it before I had to go back to that stifling mansion. I wanted to go home to my own place, but right now, my mother needed me.

  I walked back towards the mansion as I sipped my smoothie and tried to force thoughts of having to testify out of my head now.

  Instead, I let my thoughts fall on the prosecutor…Kenya Duncan. She was tough and even Dad’s highest paid attorneys were having trouble doing battle with her and coming out on top. Her prowess in the courtroom wasn’t what drew my attentions, however.

  I’d never dated a black woman…but that’s not to say I haven’t been attracted to them. I first noticed it in college. I went to a basketball game with a friend of mine and there was a group of cheerleaders there in front of where we sat in the bleachers.

  One of them was a beautiful black girl and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I was completely aroused watching her dance around and do her cheers. The way her golden skin contrasted with her white uniform made my mind envision what my pale skin would look like next to hers…inside of hers.

  I didn’t ask her out, or even introduce myself. I saw her not long after that with a huge black guy that was in one of my classes, so later I asked him about her. He laughed at me and said she wouldn’t be interested in dating a “white” boy.

  Regardless, she’d provided plenty of ammo for my fantasies for years to come. Kenya reminded me of her, and the sight of her on the television left me in a semi-state of arousal every time.

  I had actually looked forward to going to her office for my deposition. I had been sorely disappointed to find out that she wasn’t even there that day. I gave my testimony to some kid who still had acne and went home once again to try and catch a snippet of her on TV.

  Kenya was sharp and professional in her suit jacket and skirt. Every time I saw her I thought of how many times I’d woken up in the middle of the night with my dick in my hand, my head swimming with filthy thoughts of her.