Chapter 3 is a little short but I still hope you enjoy reading it. Last chapter Bea went from being up on top of the world to crashing down to earth with Lance Mr. Right Now. This time payback's a ...you know what.

Two days later Lance was at his condo exorcising his demon, the sensual Bea, best way he knew how. By hitting the leather speed bag in his personal gym. Everytime he remembered the taste of her, a heady and delicate balance of spice and sweet, he punched the bag harder. Everytime he remembered how her pussy squeezed his cock as she came for him he punched the bag faster.

But what was worse were the number of times he'd wished since he left her establishment to have gotten her naked underneath and making Bea come for him again and again. Bea Lowell was a threat to his company's bottom line. A literal thorn in his verbial side. He shouldn't have wanted her. Or touched her.

Because now after one taste it wasn't enough. He had to have her again. He nearly did too before he came to his senses and stepped away from her and any other hard surface. Arms burning from the strain he lowered his arms and took deep breaths his heart rate decelerating at the same speed as the bag he was punching.

Lance bent his head and raised his right arm to using his teeth to unstrap he gloves. Once his hand was free he took off the glove on his left. Then used a towel to wipe off the sweat .

Sweat he'd much rather gained from doing other things. Like making Bea ride his cock as he held her standing up. A position that didn't require a surface at all.Good thing he only thought of it now.

His cock hardened and strained against his gym shorts. Because of her. Damn the woman. How could he continue to call himself a crisis manager, a fixer, if he couldn't decide on what he wanted more, to fuck Bea or crucify her?

His phone ringing pulled him from his thoughts. Lance reached into his shorts pocket and swore. Usually he kept his phone on him or close by in case of emergencies. But his encounter with Bea had made him go soft in the head.

He followed the sound of the ringtone, Ride of the Valkyries by Richard Wagner, into his living room when it stopped. A quick sweep showed him nothing. The phone went off again and he followed it to his TV entertainment center.

How the hell did it get there?

He picked up his phone when the call ended. Glancing at the screen he saw both calls was from the CEO. Wondering why Mr. Richards was calling him he made to return his call when the phone ran in his hand. It was Mr. Richards. Again.

Dread splashed over his head and his whole body like a bucket of ice and water chilling him down to his bones. Answering the call, he put the phone to his ear, swallowed and said, "Yes Mr. Richards?"

"I've just had an interesting call from the Historic Preservation Office."

His sense of dread grew to sub freezing temperatures but Lance crossed his free arm and asked the question he both least and most wanted an answer to. "About what?"

"It's not so much about what but also about who?"

Lance heard the frustration in his voice but remained silent. Last thing he wanted was to have whoever earned his ire turned toward him. Mr. Richards sighed into the phone and Lance didn't need to be right beside him to know that he was probably pinching the bridge of his nose right now.

"Apparently a Ms. Lowell," Lance hissed and wondered what the woman done now but Mr. Richards answered the question for him, "has brought findings that one of the buildings part of our redevelopment plan is connected to the underground railroad."

"What?" Lance searched his brain on the history of the neighborhood but came up blank. There were stations in Washington, DC and Baltimore but nothing of the kind turned up. "That's impossible. She must be lying. Whatever she presumably found has to be a fabrication."

Lance started pacing. His mind filled with thoughts how she could sink so lovw.It had to be revenge for what happened between them. They didn't say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned for nothing. This was payback.

Worse, even if he did proved she was lying no one would believe him. With the current racial hostilities people would side with her thinking that the 'man' was trying to shut her up to make money they don't need building housing only people of means can afford. Lance felt a twinge of guilt about it but fact of the matter was that affordable housing didn't make money. And his company had a board they answered to. A decline in profits is something they didn't want to see. So his hands were tied on the subject. But Bea's stunt was much worse. She'd effectively halted their productions. Cut them down at the knees.

"Unfortunately the call was a formality as they believe the artifact is the real deal." Lance stopped pacing as the tried to figure out what that meant and how he should proceed. "They have someone from the NMAAHC to authenticate it's validity. What I need you do is to fix this to work for us."

"I will," Lance vowed but Mr. Richards had already ended the call.

😠😠💋💋💢💢💋💋

"Ladies toast!"

Bea raised her glass of wine feeling giddy and proud and more than a little smug that she stuck it to that jackass Lance.

The three voices of her mystic sisters joined hers in resounding loud 'cheers!' and clinked their glasses with hers. She imagined the look on Lance's face, twisted more than her locs, frustrated at being beat. Too bad it didn't make him less handsome and sexy.

Heat pooled in her belly but she immediately pushed him out of her mind and took a sip of the red celebratory wine. The man been ruining her days and nights with memories of their last encounter. Spiking her horniness to epic levels, craving having sex with him again, like a fool. He treated her like one. Played her like one. And she would be an even stupider fool if she let her wet dreams make her go back for more. She had sex with the asshole once, shame on him. If she had sex with him again, shame on her.

Bea gulped down the rest of her wine, reached across the table for the bottle of wine and refilled her glass. The faint smell of Pine-sol sent her spiraling back into the past. She remembered vividly the hard table surface on her back and Lance's hard body pressed down above her. Caught between the table and his rock, hard cock pounding into her. God, why did she had to taste him that one time. If she knew the torture she'd face she wouldn't have done it. Now she's losing sleep and had to get a new table which would be delivered in two more days. Two days too long.

Bea sighed, downed her glass and refilled it again.

"Uh Bea," said Felicite' jerking her out of her morose thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Bea looked around at her friends all with the same concerned looks on their faces. She scrunched her forehead wondering what she'd missed and came up with nothing. She was so busy in not trying to think about Lance she hadn't heard a single thing anyone said.

She mentally shook her head, smiled so hard her face might break and lied, "Sure. I'm fine. Why?"

"For starters you're less excited than you would be. Especially since you fought so hard to find something to stop the development plans."

Bea shrugged and opened her mouth to lie when Felicite' nodded towards the table. The same table she hadn't replaced yet and still retain memories of the hottest sex of her life. Her mouth dropped open in horror. "Felicite'!" yelled Bea slamming her glass down, the wine sloshing on her hands. "Invasion of privacy much?"

Felicite''s forehead scrunched in anger, though Bea had no idea what she had to be angry about. She wanted to forget that night and here was Felicite' bringing it up all over again.

"It's not like I wanted to see it. The emotions were so intense the image appeared in my mind within seconds."

"Then you should've mind your own business and ignored it."

Jenna and Layla looked at them confused. "What's going on?" asked Jenna.

"Tell them Bea. Before you accuse me of sticking my nose in it because obviously it's troubling you."

"No it isn't-"

"And for once, lean on your girls to help you out with it. Like you help us."

Bea felt an odd stinging behind her eyes. She hadn't felt it in years so at first she didn't understand why were eyes started to burn as if someone lit a fuse. And when she realized what that sensation meant tears gushed forth like water bursting from a dam.

Crying. She was crying. Damnit the man had her crying. She rather be crying because she received a sign that the apocalypse would start soon. But over a guy? Who didn't care nothing about her? Hated her?

She was wrong. So very wrong. Having sex with him wasn't the biggest mistake she ever made. It was caring for the man and letting him get under her skin. And now it felt as if a deep, cavernous hole opened up in her chest. Her heart disappeared into a hollow. All because she couldn't have him.

Chair legs scraped against the floor and three warm, comforting bodies surrounded her as to absorb her pain. Overwhelmed by the emotions of feeling empty and loved Bea rested her head on someone's chest like a child seeking the everything-will-be-alright warmth a mother gives when comforting their child. The scent of jasmine let her know it was Jenna. Which meant that the hands squeezing her own belonged to Layla while Felicite' was hugging her from behind, her head next to hers as she said, "Okay. Cry it out. And when you're ready you can tell us about it. If you want."

Talking about it? She was already crying about it? Why the hell should she talk about it?

"It's just that we shared this intense connection," Bea blurted. "I felt it the first night I saw him at the bar. Like something was guiding us towards each other."

"What man?" asked Layla as she began to massage her hands, slowly relieving the tension from her body. "What bar?"

Bea lifted her head from Jenna's chest and turned to her right. Bleary eyed she warbled, "Lance. We saw him that night we took you out to drive Joseph crazy. The fine light skinned brother at eleven o'clock."

"Him?" exclaimed Jenna while Layla at the same time said, "Oh!"

Bea nodded. "Oh is right." Then tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling. Felicite' straightened up and looked down at her. Bea concentrated at a spot above her head and continued her confession. Then maybe she could receive absolution of her sin of being too damn lusty.

She recounted how he was always running through her mind. Always wondering when they'll meet again. Even when she tried to divine through her crystal ball to find him. Only for him to walk through the door as if was meant to be.

"Well maybe it was," said Felicite, ever the optimist, fate and true love makes the world go round.

"If it was meant to be for us to fuck on this table, have him accuse me of running a prostitution out my store then threaten me to stay away from his employers BN Residential, then yeah guess it was?"

"Bea you don't have to be so sarcastic about it."

"I wasn't. It's the truth."

Bea straightened up and knifed out of her chair. Stumbling against the table she reached out to steady herself on the table at the same time as her friends reached out to steady her. She shrugged off their hands, picked up the wine bottle and topped her glass.

She pivoted around and sat on the edge of the table. "Lance and I only met to be challengers. Contenders with my neighborhood on the line. He only came to throw down gloves. But my horny didn't know better ass jumped on him until we fucked on this table." Bea knocked on the flat top of the wooden furniture then tilted her head. "Guess that won't work now since the bad luck already happened huh?"

Felicite', Layla and Jenna looked at each other with growing concern. Bea didn't care. She got her feelings off her chest. And she was right. She did feel a bit better though the drink helped too. So as far as she was concerned she could move on. Now that she had talked about it she didn't feel weighed down as if her clothes were lined with concrete. Obviously holding it in was the part of the problem. The other problem was forgetting him. Which she will in time.

"Oh stop worrying about me girls."

"We can't help it," said Jenna.

"Have you at least talked to him?"

"No. We're done." She put down her glass, turned around and picked up their glasses. Turning back around she gave them each of their glasses then picked back up her own. "In fact we never got started anyways. So let's toast."

"But Bea-"

"Let it go Felicite'," spoke Layla.

Bea threw a grateful look at Layla then raised her glass up high and nodded for them to do the same.

"Ladies toast," she repeated. "To being successful, independent women!"

"To being successful, independent women!" they cheered.

Aware that she was getting buzzed Bea took a sip of her drink. Or else she'd suffer from drunken word vomit later in the night. A preemptive decision she was glad she was following because over the rim of her glass Felicite' wore a look on her face that she wasn't done in making Bea confront her feelings about Lance.

If you didn't know already I've entered this novella romance series into this year's Wattys. Please show your support with a like/vote, sharing and tweeting about it on Twitter. Remember to use the hashtag #wattys2018. I'd also love to your hear your thoughts and comments about what you like or didn't like about Foreseen, its characters, etc. Thanks for the support! :-D