Justice:I don’t know what you did, but thank you. We owe you.
I pocketed my phone, satisfaction settling in my chest.
It was done. The deal was complete. Vivica had her ammunition, Dante was finished, and the Banks family had their casino permits. Rashid was safe from whatever threats she’d been holding over his head.
I’d played her game and won.
Now I was out. Done with Vivica. Done with her manipulation. Done being her errand boy.
From here on out, she was nothing to me.
I picked up my pace, eager to get back to the penthouse. Back to Zahara and Yusef. Back to this strange new life I was building.
The elevator opened and I stepped into the penthouse, grocery bags in hand.
“Yo, I got breakfast,” I called out. “Croissants, eggs, bacon, that fancy orange juice you?—”
Zahara was standing in the living room.
Waiting for me.
Her arms were crossed. Her jaw was tight. And in her hand, dangling from one finger like evidence at a crime scene, was a pair of panties.
Red. Lace. Definitely not hers.
Fuck.
“What the hell is this?” Her voice was cold, controlled with a calm that meant a storm was coming.
I set the grocery bags on the counter, buying myself a second to think. “Where’d you find those?”
“Under your bed. I dropped my earring and found these instead.” She stepped closer, eyes blazing. “So I’ma ask you again. What. The hell. Is this?”
My mind raced. Under the bed. Red lace. When the fuck had?—
Then it hit me.
“Farah,” I muttered. She’s the only woman that’s been in my apartment and I gave her my damn apartment code back when she was working with the contractors.
Zahara’s eyes went wide. Then narrow. A humorless laugh escaped her lips.
“Farah.” She nodded slowly, like I’d just confirmed every suspicion she’d ever had. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”
“Zahara, it’s not?—”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand, cutting me off. “Don’t you dare stand there and lie to my face. I saw the way she looked at you at the gala. The way she looked at ME. Like I was competition. Like she wanted to fight me for you. I don’t compete with no bitch!”
“I ain’t asking you to compete with her because me and her were never a thing.”
“Then why are her panties under your bed, Prime?” Her voice cracked on my name. “Huh? If nothing ever happened, why?—”
“Because she was my interior decorator!” I was losing my patience now, my voice rising. “She had the code to my place. She was in and out for weeks setting everything up. I don’t know when she left those there or why, but I never touched her. Never.”
“You really expect me to believe that?” Zahara shook her head, tears forming in her eyes that she refused to let fall. “She just happened to leave her panties under your bed? What, they fell out of her purse?”
“She left it there to fuck with me!”
“Why does she have the code to your apartment?” Zahara’s voice was rising now too. “Why does another woman have access to your home, Prime? To the place you just asked me and my son to live?”
