When we step out of the closet, my lungs drag in smoke-thick air like it’s fresh. The music slams back into us. She spots her friend near the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
“Delphine,” Coco calls.
“I thought y’all ghosted me,” Delphine says, her glare aimed straight at me.
“This is Ridge,” Coco says.
Delphine looks me over. Measuring. “So you’re Ridge Stone.”
I nod once. “I hear you keep her out of trouble.”
She smirks. “Someone has to.”
“I’m standing right here, guys,” Coco says.
We don’t last long at the table. The noise is relentless. Delphine leans in, shouting about somewhere quieter. Coco gives me that look.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I know somewhere that we can go where we can actually hear each other.”
Not that I have any desire to talk to her friend or hear what she has to say. I want to go there because I know who comes and goes.
“It’s quiet and discreet,” I add.
The ride is quiet. My fingers tap against the console as I drive. Coco’s hand brushes mine once. Intentional or not, it lights me up.
“Why were you at the club?” she asks.
“Someone on my security team said the Duvalls still pass through,” I reply. “I wanted eyes on it myself.”
Delphine stiffens. “I thought they were done.”
“Alton Duvall… is gone,” I say carefully. “That doesn’t mean the business is suddenly gone. Whatever they wanted to do with our ports, that still exists to some extent.”
She doesn’t push, but the attention makes me uneasy. I clock it and move on.
When we arrive, I scan the street before opening Coco’s door.
Inside, the Black Orchid is dim and warm, low jazz threading through the room without demanding attention. I nod to the host, and we take a table along the side, far enough from the main flow to talk without raising our voices. Coco settles in close, her hand resting on my thigh.
“So,” Delphine says, studying me. “What now?”
I glance at Coco.
I’m asking myself the same thing.
The air is heavy,warm enough that it clings to my skin. My muscles ache in that deep, loose way that comes only after effort.
My body hums with exhaustion, muscles sore in a way that borders on indulgent, while Coco lies curled against my chest. Her warmth seeps into me, steadying, anchoring, as I stare up at the ceiling and try to sort through the mess in my head.
My hand moves over her back without thought, following the gentle curve of her spine. I want to stay right here to trap this quiet and keep it from slipping away.
She breaks the silence.
“Why did you react the way you did tonight?” Her voice is soft, but the question carries weight. “When I saw you standing there, you had a look on your face I’ve never seen.”
I take a slow breath and run my hand through her hair. “Because I saw you there, and every instinct I have went sideways. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. I will make sure nothing touches you.”
The words come out controlled, even if the feeling behind them isn’t.
