Just Be True To Me

You can read Just Be True To Me free below.

Blurb:

An older man, younger woman, BWWM marriage romance book. Mia Bishop needs an adventure. Now that she’s at the top of her legal career, she decides to set her eyes on the best of the best: Enigmatic real estate mogul, Clifford Knight, who is in desperate need of her legal services.

She comes to him with a plan: pretend that they’re a couple, and watch his public perception soar. But now that the whole world is watching them, Mia is starting to think her relationship with the much older Clifford is more than just professional. She’s actually starting to fall for him!

But as she becomes increasingly aware of Clifford’s pattern of deception, doubts begin to creep in. Can romance blossom between Mia and Clifford that could lead to marriage? Or is Mia beginning to see the true nature of the man behind the façade? Find out in this interracial wedding romance story by Cornelia Atkinson.

Chapter 1

The glass shattered against the wall.

Several large men stood between the two angry women. Their insults canceled each other out. Pride on the line, they didn’t care about the other patrons’ curious looks or the whispers behind their hands.

It was the same storyline, one that has existed since the dawn of time—two men blaming each other for their broken hearts instead of the man that caused the damage.

Mia shook her head as the women attempted to wiggle themselves free, hurling glasses, cutlery, wigs, and whatever else they could grab. She scoffed at the men that gawked at their exposed bre*sts and bottoms, chastising the supposed friends who were watching with slick smiles on their faces. They were a part of the plot, pawns used in the set-up. They were just as guilty as the man. Numbers ran through her mind about the size of the paychecks they would receive.

The show, Basketball Wives of Whatever City, was the perfect encapsulation of society; people having no regard for their relationships, or themselves, and fighting over things that really weren’t worthy of their time or effort.

This is why I’m single.

Turning the TV off, she stripped out of her clothes and performed her favorite yoga poses. After starting a pot of coffee, she turned on the radio and hopped in the shower. While washing her hair, she thought about all the reasons why being single was a benefit.

1. Don’t have to worry about getting a STD
2. Increased focus – don’t have to worry about what the guy is doing behind my back
3. Don’t have to stroke a man’s ego
4. No relationship weight
5. My place stays clean
6. I don’t have to pretend to like his friends and family
7. No stupid arguments
8. Less likely to get sick with a cold or flu

She continued listing reasons until the water ran cold. She listed reasons as she brushed her teeth, bits of toothpaste splattering the mirror each time she came up with one that touched her core. The exercise continued until she poured herself a cup of coffee. The warm liquid helped to remind her of all the things she had to be grateful for, one of which was that she didn’t have to deal with all the woes that came with men and a relationship.

Her mother, Anita, called while she was doing her hair.

She held her hair in a bun. “Up or down?”

“Down,” her mother said. “You spent all that time growing it out, flaunt it.”

Mia ran her fingers through her shoulder-length tresses, sliding her fingers down to the ends like the YouTubers she watched and then snipping. An inch of hair fell to the floor.

“Did you just—”

“It’s just split ends,” she said with a laugh. “Sometimes I think you think it’s your hair.”

“It is. I’m living vicariously through you.” She picked her fro out, fluffing and shaping the sides. “I could never do long hair, too much effort.”

“I think you’re just being lazy.” Mia snipped another section. “What’s up? I know you’re not calling just to watch me trim my hair. What is on the magnificent Anita Bishop’s mind this glorious morning?”

Anita Bishop had always been a straight shooter. Anyone that had a relationship with her— business or personal—figured out quickly how to appreciate her blunt honesty, also how to ignore the offshoot comments. Her intentions always came from a good heart, only wanting to help. She was truly a rose, in order to admire her beauty, you had to withstand the thorns.

“Your father called.”

Mia didn’t flinch. “Okay. Good to know he’s still alive.”

“He asked about you. He wants to know when he’s going to see you.”

Mia had been making a concerted effort to avoid any contact with her father since his and her mother’s relationship had ended.

William Bishop was the epitome of what a man should be. He was strong, but still able to express his emotions. A hustler at heart, he was able to create and grow a business no matter what the economy was like. He wasn’t greedy. He appreciated what he had, needing nothing more than the love of the women in his life. A man of his word, he delivered on every promise he made. Most important, he was loyal.

Or so she’d thought.

“I have no reason to see him. If he wants to talk, tell him to shoot me a text.”

“Mia, I know you’re upset with him—”

“I’m not upset with him. I really don’t care anymore.”

“If you don’t care, then why are you crying?”

Mia looked in the mirror. Her mother was right. A single tear marked her face. She wiped it quickly, sucking the rest into her throat and swallowing them. She gathered her hair into a bun and secured it with a Milton pin. “I gotta go mommy, I’m running behind. I’ll call you when I get out of court.”

“Call your father.”

She threw the phone into her pillows before stomping to her closet. The hangers screeched across the bar as she searched for something to wear. Despite knowing that jurors responded better to color, she skipped over the red blazer. Yanking on a black dress caused the hanger to come with it. Her curses threatened to rip through the fabric. Air hissed through her teeth as she tapped her forehead. In the mirror, she saw the extent of the damage. She allowed voicemail to answer the call ringing her phone. Tending the cut, she repeated her daily mantra.

I am in control of my success. I determine the outcome of my circumstances.

***

“We will now begin closing remarks,” the judge said. “Ms. Bishop.”

Mia took a deep breath before standing. Her eyes scanned the faces of the jurors. Untrained in the art of hiding their emotions, she had no trouble in determining which ones were still on the fence. Standing, she held her target’s gazes as she made her way around the table. “Thank you, your honor.” Her stride was smooth, cool. There was a smirk stuck in the corner of her mouth. “I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to convince you of all the reasons why my client is a good man. I can see that there are more than a few of you that still don’t believe me. You shouldn’t.”

Her mentor, Milton Lent, had taught her the power of silence. That most people can’t stand it. That it allowed their minds to wander to places that they’d buried long ago. Silence was the keeper of their long forgotten secrets.