I'd been watching her for a little while. Not in a reckless way. Not in a way that left loose ends. But in a way that made sure if shit needed to come to this, it was final. I knew everything about her. Knew she didn't have anybody. Knew her routine to the T. She was always alone. No family, no man, nobody. Just her and that quiet, structured little life she built for herself. Get up, go to work, come home. A few nights a week, she'd stop by her favorite seafood spot, order the same thing—blackened catfish, extra lemon on the side. Sundays, she'd go to the lakefront, sit on the bench with a book, soaking up the peace.
She moved like she had nothing to hide. Like the world was fair. Like people played by the rules. But the world wasn't fair. And the rules were made for people like me to break. That's why I knew she was perfect. She wasn't reckless. She wasn't sloppy. She wasn't like other people out here fumbling their own bags. She was precise, disciplined, clean. And that's exactly what we needed.
I ran a hand down my jaw, exhaling as I stepped into the kitchen. The scent of black coffee and smoked sausage filled the space, mixing with the low hum of the ceiling fan. Noles and Pierre were posted up at the marble counter, Pierre scrolling through his phone, Noles halfway through a plate of food. Pierre ended a call, glancing up. "Ju should be pullin' up."
I nodded, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, twisting the cap off with one hand. Jules was oldest out of the three of us. The one who carried our father's name with pride, with weight. He was the head of this shit, the one that made the final calls. And I already knew this move, he wasn't gonna like it. "You know he ain't gon' be feelin' that shit at all, right?" Noles said, glancing at me between bites.
I didn't respond. Just took a slow sip of water, letting his words settle. Didn't matter if Jules liked it or not. What was done, was done. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by the deep, familiar voice that always carried authority before he even spoke full sentences. "Feelin' what shit?" Jules stepped into the kitchen, his presence immediately shifting the energy in the room. He was built like a man who had spent his whole life in control—tall, broad, his skin a shade darker than mine, his sharp features hardened by always being the one everybody answered to.
He was dressed in all black, as usual, his chain resting against his chest, a deep frown already forming as he looked between me and Noles. I set the water bottle down, meeting his gaze. Noles leaned back on his stool, grinning like this wasn't about to be a whole thing. "Remember dat fine ass accountant we been sittin’ on ? Ya brudda kidnapped her ass," he said, chuckling. Jules' frown deepened, his eyes cutting to me. "Da fuck did you do, Juste?"
I didn't blink. Didn't look away. "I made a business decision." Jules stared at me for a long time, then exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "A business decision," he repeated. "Da fuck kinda business decision involves kidnappin' somebody?" Pierre let out a low whistle, rubbing his jaw like he was too entertained. Noles grinned. "Da kinda business decision that got her upstairs right now, lookin' all mad and fine at the same time."
Jules dragged a hand down his face, muttering what the fuck under his breath before pinning me with a look. "Start talkin'. "I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms. "We needed an accountant. One that won't fold, one that got the right skills. She fit." Jules cocked his head slightly. "And?"
"And she said no." Jules let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "So instead'a findin' somebody else, you snatched her up like we runnin' a cartel now?" I didn't say shit. Just held Jules' gaze, letting him see what I wasn't saying. That this wasn't just about business anymore. That this wasn't just about her skills. This was about her. I knew Chiana was fine—I'd been knew that. But seeing her in person that day at her office? That did something to me. I walked in knowing I was about to take something that didn't belong to me, and still, for a split second, I almost forgot why I was there. Her scent hit me first—something soft, sweet, but clean, like she had just stepped out of a fresh shower. She smelled like a woman who took care of herself, who didn't let the world rough her up. Then my eyes dropped to the way her slacks hugged her hips—high, round, sitting just right. The kind of body that wasn't trying to be seen but demanded attention anyway. And that skin... damn. Deep, rich brown skin. Smooth, glowing like she ain't never had a hard day in her life. The kind of skin you wanted to touch, to taste. The kind that made a man think about shit he had no business thinking about. Her hair was done in neat, small long braids that framed her face, pulling attention to her high cheekbones, those full lips, and them sharp-ass eyes that held more fire than I expected.
Chiana was soft, yeah—her life was soft, the way she moved, the way she carried herself. She ain't live in our world. She ain't come from it. But she wasn't weak. She wasn't the type to just fold, to just do what she was told. She had pride, had attitude. I liked that shit more than I should've. I should've walked away. Should've handled this whole thing differently. Should've picked somebody else—somebody who didn't make me think, who didn't make me feel shit. But I fucked up. I'd been watching her for too long, and over time, she grew on me. More than I wanted to admit. More than I was willing to say out loud.
Jules sighed, shaking his head again. "You feelin' her, huh?" Noles barked out a laugh. "Hell yeah, he feelin' her! He don' carried her up them stairs like she was some lil thing, locked her up, and now he standin' here actin' like it's just about the books." Pierre smirked . "she put up a fight. Whooped that nigga ass fa sho"
"She did," I admitted, the memory flashing in my mind—her smart ass mouth, the way she refused to back down even when she should have. Jules sighed again, pacing the length of the kitchen before stopping in front of me. "Look, I get it," he said, his tone quieter, more serious. "She's bad, she's smart, and she got that mouth on her that make a man wanna put some in it . You like her" I clenched my jaw. "But you know we don't move like this," he continued. "We ain't sloppy, and this? This is sloppy."
"She won't talk," I said, my voice steady. Jules studied me. "You sure about that?" I thought of her upstairs, the way she stood firm, the way she looked me dead in my eye and told me she wasn't signing that contract. She wasn't weak. She wasn't stupid. And she damn sure wasn't the type to go down easy. I pushed off the counter, my eyes never leaving Jules'. "She'll come around."
Jules exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Man..." Pierre smirked. "Or she'll kill your ass in your sleep."
I grinned, the thought almost amusing. "She wouldn't be the first to try." Jules sighed, rubbing his hand down his face, already looking like he had a headache. "Keep this shit under control, Juste." His voice was low, firm—big brother shit, but not soft. He didn't do soft. Not with us. Not in this life. "And Noles, keep this outta Mama and Pops' ear. Know you like to run your mouth lika' hoe."
Noles scoffed. "Man, whatever, nigga. I know when to shut the fuck up." Jules wasn't convinced, but he let it ride. I wasn't worried about Noles. I was worried about Pops. If he found out about this, Yeah, he'd lose his shit. Not just 'cause I took a woman against her will, but 'cause it was messy. And if there was one thing Saint St. Jean didn't tolerate, it was mess. We were his sons, carrying his legacy, running the empire he built from the dirt up. And he expected us to move with the same precision, the same control, the same ruthlessness that made him feared across the South.
Yet... here I was. Moving reckless over a woman. One I was supposed to be using as a piece in our business. One I couldn't get out of my head. Jules shook his head like he already knew how this was about to play out. He sighed, glancing at the time. "I gotta get back and help Nia get the kids ready for school," he muttered, pushing off the counter. “I hope you can make her fall in love with your ass. If not, you know shit gon' get ugly."
His words carried weight. Not just the threat behind them, but the truth. Because he was right. If I couldn't make Chiana want this... want me... then I was setting myself up for a different kind of war. I didn't respond, just nodded as Jules walked out, already pulling his keys from his pocket.
Jules had his shit together. He'd been with Nia since they were kids—middle school sweethearts turned husband and wife, now with three kids of their own. Two boys, one girl. He built a family for himself. Something solid. Something untouchable. And I respected that. Hell... I strived to have that. But I wasn't the settling down type. Not because I didn't want to be, but because this life? Our life? It didn't let men like me have that shit. It gave us power, money, and fear. But love? Love was a weakness. And I wasn't weak. At least... that's what I kept telling myself.
=
By the time the sun started creeping over the horizon, the house had settled into silence. Noles and Pierre had dipped out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And her. I moved upstairs, my footsteps slow and steady as I reached the locked door. I slid the key into the knob, twisting it until the lock clicked. The door creaked open, and the first thing I saw was her. Chiana was sprawled out across the bed, her deep brown skin glowing under the dim light creeping in from the window. She was still mad as hell, though. Even in her sleep, a frown was etched into her face, her lips slightly parted like she was in the middle of an argument in her dreams.
I smirked. She was stubborn as hell. And still fine as fuck. I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest, just watching her. The way her braids were messy now, strands slipping loose from how much she'd been tossing and turning. The way her thick thighs peeked out from under the white sheets, her body soft, inviting, untouched by the kind of world I lived in.
She looked peaceful like this. But I knew the second she woke up, that fire was gon be right back in her eyes. And for some fucked-up reason... I liked that shit.
I had been with plenty of women—women who knew who I was, what I was about, and fell in line without me having to say much. But Chiana? She wasn't bending. Wasn't breaking. I ran a hand down my jaw, exhaling slow. I told myself this was business again. I stood there, staring at her, letting my mind wander in ways it shouldn't.
I pushed off the wall, glancing at her one last time. She was still deep in sleep, her face relaxed despite the frown that had settled there. I smirked. With a quiet exhale, I stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind me before locking it. The heavy click of the lock echoed in the quiet hallway, a reminder that—for now—she wasn't going anywhere.
I made my way down the long corridor, the house still and dark, the only sound my footsteps against the hardwood floors. My room was at the opposite end of the hall, bigger, darker. Black satin sheets stretched across the bed, the faint scent of my cologne still lingering in the air. I pulled off my shirt, tossing it aside before stepping into the bathroom. The water was scorching hot, steam rising thick as I stood under the stream, letting it roll over my shoulders, down my back. I tilted my head forward, hands braced against the tile, but my mind wouldn't shut off.
I knew I'd only get about three hours of sleep before I had to be back at it. Between Chiana and the real reason I brought her here, sleep wasn't coming easy. Outside of my thoughts about her, the weight of the money had been pressing heavy on me. Three months. Three months of money moving in fast—too fast. We had more cash than we knew what to do with, stacked in different locations, wrapped in plastic, locked in vaults. And while we'd been careful as hell about where we moved it, it was getting too big, too messy. We needed it cleaned. Fast. That was why Chiana was needed here. I exhaled sharply, cutting the water off and stepping out, grabbing a towel and dragging it over my skin. My body was exhausted, my muscles tight, but my mind was still running.
—
I woke up around 10 AM, stretching lazily in bed before rolling onto my side, rubbing a hand over my face. The house was quiet, the type of quiet that settled when things were still—too still. And I already knew the reason for that was sitting, probably still pissed the hell off.
I smirked to myself as I got up, dressing down in black Levi's and a fitted black tee. The air was thick with Louisiana humidity even this early in the morning, the sun cutting through the heavy clouds outside. I grabbed my keys, knowing I wasn't about to deal with her mouth first thing on an empty stomach. Sammie's Deli was calling. The drive was smooth, the streets already alive with the usual morning hustle—old heads gathered outside the corner store talking shit, kids running up and down the sidewalks, music blasting from car speakers at the red lights.
