I allowed myself a moment to catalog the changes years had carved into his features, the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the stronger set of his jaw. He was still Langston but refined, hardened, and improved like aged whiskey compared to the raw moonshine of his youth.
A ring shattered our peaceful bubble. Langston’s eyes snapped open immediately, years of security work evident in how quickly he went from sleep to full alertness. He reached for his phone on the nightstand, glancing at the screen before answering.
“Hello?” His voice was rough with sleep but already taking on a controlled quality I’d come to recognize as his professional mask.
Even without being on speaker, I heard the woman’s voice loud and clear. “Langston, Tanya at the salon said she saw Aven Compton at your office. Is she back in town?”
I froze. His mother, Tabitha Black, had never approved of me back in high school, the “too ambitious” girl who was clearly a distraction from her son’s potential. Based on her tone, those feelings hadn’t mellowed with age.
Langston’s jaw tightened as he sat up against the headboard. “Morning to you, too, Mom.”
I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep while shamelessly eavesdropping. Langston’s fingers absently stroked my shoulder as he spoke, the gentle touch at odds with his clipped tone.
“Yes, she’s back. She’s working for me temporarily. That was fifteen years ago, Mom. We were kids.” Another pause, longer this time.
I practically heard her disapproval through the phone. Langston’s shoulders grew increasingly tense as she continued.
He listened for another moment. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later this week. No, I’m not bringing her to Sunday dinner. Jesus, Mom.” There was a final pause. “Love you, too. Gone.”
He ended the call with more force than necessary, tossing the phone onto the mattress between us. I opened my eyes with what I hoped was a convincing stretch, blinking up at him innocently.
“Morning,” I murmured, my voice still husky with sleep.
His expression softened as he looked down at me, one hand coming up to brush hair from my face. “Morning, Trouble. Sleep okay?”
“Mmm. Better than okay. Who was on the phone?” I sat up, letting the sheet fall to my waist, enjoying the way his eyes tracked my movement.
“Nobody important,” he replied, leaning in to press his lips to my bare shoulder.
Before I could call him on the blatant lie, my phone pinged with a text notification. I reached for it, really wanting to ignore the outside world for a few more hours.
The text from Raina made my stomach drop:
Raina:With a madman hunting you, it would be respectful to let me know you were safe. We need to talk.
“Shit,” I muttered, staring at the screen.
Langston peered over my shoulder, his beard tickling my skin. “Problem?”
“Raina’s pissed at me for not telling her my whereabouts since I didn’t come home last night.”
“Is that a problem? People finding out about … this?” He gestured between us, encompassing our naked bodies and the rumpled sheets.
Before answering, my phone pinged again, this time with an email notification. The subject line:Interview Confirmation: Sentinel Security Solutions.
Langston went still beside me, his body suddenly rigid. I knew his eyes were on the screen, reading the email from Adam Torres, CEO of Sentinel, Black Security’s biggest competitor in the region and Langston’s longtime rival.
“You’re interviewing with Torres?” His voice was too calm, the kind of quiet right before a thunderstorm.
My thumb moved to close the email, but it was too late. The damage was done.
“It’s just an interview. I applied weeks ago, before I started working for you,” I said, hating how defensive I sounded.
“With my direct competitor.” Langston slid out of bed, suddenly very interested in finding his pants. The easy intimacy of moments ago had vanished, replaced by the controlled, distant version of Langston I’d first encountered when I returned to town.
“It’s not about you. I need to know I have options, Langston. That I’m not only staying because of… whatever this is,” I said, though we both knew that wasn’t entirely true.
He paused in the act of pulling on his pants, eyes meeting mine. “And what exactly is this, Aven? Because from where I’m standing, it feels pretty fucking significant.”
