A Boss Purchased My Love

By Chase Sidora

Brilliant, wealthy, and reigning Boss of one of the biggest underground drug cartels in the world, Xavier Rockwell has it all. Operating under the perfect cover as a luxury hotelier, everything in Xavier’s life is running smoothly until he stumbles upon an unauthorized black-market operation happening right under his nose. What he finds when he goes to investigate the situation, however, changes his life and turns his world upside down forever.

Sevyn Varella has been through hell and back for most of her life. Lacking true love, a sense of self, or anything of her own, Sevyn faces an entirely different set of problems when she is pulled into a world she knows nothing about because of her ex-boyfriend’s mistakes. With both her livelihood and life on the line, Sevyn thinks that her fate is sealed forever until she meets a man named Xavier who’s willing to show her that there’s more to life than tears, struggles, and heartbreak.

With a blossoming love, shady cohorts, and foreign opposition that will do anything to get what they want, Xavier and Sevyn must figure out what’s most important to both of them moving forward. Is it money? Trust? Friendship? Or something else?

These questions and more are answered in A Boss Purchased My Love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leo Sullivan Presents
• Release date: Jan 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781648543357

Chase Sidora

Chase Sidora has been writing since the tender age of eleven, making becoming a published author inevitable. Honing these skills for over a decade, Between Love and Lust is the author’s debut novel. Chase Sidora novels are built on the premise of 'Can Love Truly Concur All?' and the many foundations in which love and relationships are built. An avid sports fan, Chase enjoys watching NBA basketball, writing, movies, and working out. Chase currently resides in Jacksonville, Florida.

Book preview

Chapter One

Xavier

Looking out at the bright neon lights that stretched far beyond the horizon of the Las Vegas strip, I took in the night from my penthouse suite. As I stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows that showcased the room’s one-hundred and eighty degree panoramic views, I inhaled long and deliberately. Shoving my left hand in the pocket of my slacks, I swirled the ice cubes around in of my glass before taking a swallow.

It’s a good night, I thought silently, making sure that I didn’t focus on my reflection. It was hard because a nigga was looking GQ as fuck in my ash grey Tom Ford suit, but now wasn’t the time to admire myself. I had more pressing matters to attend to. A nigga looked casket ready, but I wouldn’t be the one who died today. Not when I knew my most recent announcement would change everything these muthafuckas were accustomed to.

So, I started, hissing as the scotch burned my throat. Spinning on my heels, I turned my undivided attention to the guests in my hotel room. What do you all think of my proposal?

The dozen men I addressed, who were bunched up in clusters like a bunch of cliquey ass school girls, scattered through the suite, exchanged glances amongst one another, but no one answered my question. Those who weren’t standing, shifted in their seats, and those who were on their feet had to brace themselves to avoid falling. None of this surprised me. Hell, I could hardly keep the smirk from stretching across my face while I took in their discomfort.

Well, I’m glad that we all see eye-to-eye, I started, polishing off my drink. If you’d just go ahead and leave Jericho with the deposits that you brought along, your product will be delivered to your designated drop-off areas within the hour.

It was quiet enough to hear a rat piss on a cotton ball in the luxury suite of the lavish hotel centered in the heart of Vegas. I didn’t expect anything less because these niggas knew better. I wasn’t the nigga to try. Never have been, never will be.

Just as I started to revel in my street status, a nigga had to open his big mouth and test me.

Fuck this, Hernando, a Spanish nigga who moved dope for me out in Caliente, Nevada, spoke up.

The suite’s patrons collectively gasped at Hernando’s boldness. I personally couldn’t figure out if the nigga fell and bumped his head or were his balls just that big, but his resistance to my decision had signed his death certificate. Everyone in the room seemed to know that but him.

I’m sorry? I quizzed, setting the sweating glass on top of a coaster on a nearby table and loosening the knot in my cigarette tie. What was that?

Hernando didn’t back down, though, which was both commendable and stupid on his behalf. Who you think you are, Chico? You think you can just tell us what to do? His accent was thick, but it didn’t take much for me to decipher his disdain.

Hernando was the shit in his own right. He moved weight quick, fast, and in a hurry on a consistent basis. I appreciated that, but disrespect was inexcusable. You take our money and just give us whatever you feel like, and we’re just supposed to say, si, señor?

As he expressed his dismay, the onlookers wore masks of confusion on their faces. None of them had to say anything; their worries were etched into their features. Half of them were waiting to see how I would react while the other portion were wondering what the fuck would even make him go against me in the first place.

My lack of immediate response must have had him feeling himself. His chest was suddenly poked out, and his Spanish accent became even thicker as he felt more comfortable.

My runners don’t know how to sell this shit. Crystal Meth? Pills? They know how to move kilos. Our customers are used to cocaine. That has been working fine for us for years, what is the point of dipping into that low-level shit now, gringo?

Pulling one arm out of my blazer jacket and then the other, I tossed it across the arm of the nearest chair. I began to roll up my sleeves while heading over to my right-hand man Jericho. Soon as we made eye contact, he knew what time it was. Walking past the angry worker, Jericho discreetly reached into his back pocket and quickly passed off the weapon he pulled out.

I say we stick to what we know and—

Darkness began to cloud my vision, swallowing my conscience along with my sense of sight once I stood behind the ungrateful and downright disrespectful ass muthafucka who was trying me in my own damn hotel. Fury swept through me in a wave, and before I could reason with myself, I wrapped my left bicep under the man’s chin, holding his head up so there was clear access to his neck. Using the knife Jericho had just given me in my right hand, I repeatedly stabbed him in the throat. It only took one shot to puncture his carotid, but by the time I snapped out of my trance, Hernando’s head was nearly severed off from his body.

Tossing the man’s limp, lifeless body to the side, I rose to my feet ignoring, how the blood-soaked shirt clung to my chest.

Does anyone else have any questions or concerns?

No, no, the men grumbled and kicked their nondescript briefcases filled with money toward me.

Great, I’m glad to hear it. Now, get the fuck out my room and off my property, I commanded.

Everyone except Jericho scurried away like a bunch of roaches when the lights came on. Waiting until I heard the heavy door close and the lock automatically activate, I looked down at the leaking body. Clean that up for me, I commanded, assessing the damage to the imported Persian rug. Have Mila from housekeeping put in an order to replace that for me, will you?

Jericho pulled out his phone in a hurry. Yes sir. He shook his head and took a giant step over Hernando’s body while he put the phone to his ear. Hi, yes… can you have Mila make a replacement order for—yes. Yes, you’re exactly right.

And tell her fine ass to come up to my suite when she’s done. My adrenaline was rushing, and I needed something to take the edge off. I had a long, hard dick problem that Ms. Mila was going to handle for me. It’s time for her employee evaluation.

Jericho didn’t miss a beat. Also, once she’s done, send her up to Mr. Rockwell’s suite. Uh-huh. Aight. After watching him complete the task at hand, I felt comfortable enough to turn and head toward the exit. She’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Chapter Two

Sevyn

O h yeah, yeah. Fuck, right there, baby. That pussy so tight and warm.

Drowning out the deep, wet, panting of the horny man hovering above me, I closed my eyes and let the man shoving his pencil dick in and out of me have his way. This had become our routine. Together for three years, I stopped being sexually attracted my boyfriend, Pressure, a long time ago. Even though there were no more sparks between us, I couldn’t leave the man. He’d reminded me on many occasions that without him, I had nothing, and without him keeping a roof over my head and food in the refrigerator, that I’d just be another bitch out on her ass in the streets.

Thank God, I thought when the shrill crying of Pressure’s one year old son, Pressure Jr., came through the baby monitor that was on the dresser by the bed.

Babe, PJ’s up, I called out to Pressure, tapping him on the arm to get his attention.

He ignored both his son and my voice and continued to stroke my dry coochie in his quest for a nut.

Pressure, I winched as my pussy walls tried to slam shut each time he slipped out. Clearly, she was over Pressure as much as I was. The baby.

Shut the fuck up, he growled, speeding up even faster.

PJ’s wails for attention only got louder, and Pressure still didn’t give my chafing cooch a break. It was annoying as hell that I cared more about PJ than Pressure did when he wasn’t even my child. Though we’d been together for years, that didn’t stop my ‘man’ from fuckin’ any and every raggedy bitch that gave him a compliment, and he ended up getting his on again, off again sidepiece pregnant.

If that weren’t bad enough, whenever Pressure did have PJ, I was the one taking care of him. Changing diapers, playing with him, making sure he was fed and burped were responsibilities that fell on me.

Pressure, babe, get up! The baby needs attention.

He smacked his teeth at me, and soon as I opened my eyes, I felt his hand slam across my face with frustration. I told you to shut the fuck up, he growled, slapping me again. Damn, bitch, a nigga tryna get his nut off, and you won’t stop fuckin’ talkin, but you wonder why I go get pussy from somewhere else.

Holding on to the side of my stinging face, I watched the man dismount me and stand to his feet. Water started to form in the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let him see my frustration. He didn’t give a damn about it anyway.

Well, get yo ass up and go get the lil nigga since you was so worried. He snapped his fingers at me like I was some stray puppy that he’d found on the street. Hurry the fuck up and get his ass ‘cause I don’t want to listen to that cryin’ shit all fuckin’ day.

Once I retrieved Pressure’s mini-me from his crib in the apartment’s second bedroom and changed his diaper, I made my way to the front room. Kicking past dirty clothes and old fast food containers sprawled over the floor, I found the boy’s father on the floor in front of the glass table snorting the cocaine. The same cocaine that he was supposed to be selling to keep a roof over heads was going straight up his nostril.

I adjusted PJ on my hip and shielded his little innocent eyes from his dumb ass daddy’s bullshit. It was so reckless and disrespectful to himself, his son, and our home. I wished that he’d grow up and act his twenty-five years instead of like a dickhead teenager. Is it 1987 or some shit? I thought before speaking to him out loud. Do you have to do that? And in here while we have PJ?

Pressure looked up at me and pinched his nose. You gon’ clean this place up, or you gonna keep poppin’ your mouth?

I got the baby. Why can’t you stop putting that crap up your nose and do it yourself? I’d had enough. I wasn’t nobody’s momma, but here I was playing the role… I refused to keep being treated like Molly the Maid too. There’s nothing wrong with you. You can get up and help me. I help you all the time.

Bitch, who the fuck you talking to?

"I didn’t stutter, James, you heard me, I spewed, calling him by his government name to show how serious I was. I’d reached my limit and had more than enough. You so busy shoving that shit up your nose that you don’t do anything around here."

Bitch, keep talking that big shit, and I’ma beat yo muhfuckin’ ass. Don’t forget that without me, yo ass would still be sleeping in the homeless shelter that I found yo’ bougie ass in.

Well, you know what, nigga? Anything would be better than this shithole and having to deal with your bullshit.

Pressure chuckled and shook his head as he poured more of the white girl on the table. Picking up what I recognized to be my debit card, he cut up more lines on the table. Get the fuck out, then, he ordered after snorting two more lines.

Are you fuckin’ serious?

Pushing himself up to his feet, the poor excuse for a real man closed the space between us and hovered over me for intimidation. He was sweating profusely with bulging, manic looking eyes and flaring nostrils. You lucky you got my son in your hand, or I’d punch you in the fuckin’ face.

BOOM.

Before I could open my mouth to speak again, the three of us were caught off guard when a loud, deafening echo made us all flinch and turn toward the sound. It happened within the blink of an eye; the door flying off the hinges and slamming against the floor. A group of huge, white men with weird accents and big ass guns pointed in our direction.

Da-te jos, da-te jos, the foreign intruders screamed, sending PJ into a tearful fit of confusion at the commotion.

Shhhh, shhh, I coaxed the small child and remained calm as the pack of men split up and headed toward both Pressure and myself. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on or who the men were, but I refused to let them put their hands on the baby. No, no, no.

Închideţi târfa asta, one man, the one who seemed to be the leader of the bunch, demanded of his cohorts.

What the fuck is happening? I thought as I backed away from the brooding men who kept coming toward me. I didn’t know what they were saying to each other. I barely took a year of Spanish in high school, and I didn’t recognize any of the words of inflections in their voice to be anything close to the foreign language. I was lost and had no one to turn to for help as Pressure was sweating and shaking hard as me.

I could do nothing but yell in agony when they jumped both of us simultaneously. I ended up falling to the floor as one of the guys ripped PJ from my arms and another pushed me to the ground after they took him from me. PJ cried and Pressure swore when a machine gun was placed at his temple.

Unde sunt banii? The man who was running the show turned his attention to Pressure as his men circled him.

Huh? Pressure looked even more lost and confused.

Ia porc pe genunchi.

I don’t know what the fuck y’all sayin’, man, Pressure insisted as one of the men grabbed the back of his neck and kicked him in the calf to take Pressure down to his knees. Knowing that he was in trouble as the men punched and kicked his ribs, Pressure threw his hands up in the air. Please! I’ll tell you whateva, my nigga. I don’t know what you sayin’.

The leader chuckled and looked over at the opened brick of powder that Pressure had just used to take a bump from. This is why you haven’t paid Nicolae his money back? the man spewed, dipping his finger into it and putting a taste on the tip of his tongue. Because you take his product and put it up you nose.

This is about the fuckin’ drugs, I swore to myself. The men hovering above me held their positions while their leader still addressed my boyfriend. I knew messing with that drug shit was going to get him in trouble, especially since he spent more time sniffing it himself than selling it.

He’d