Page 1 of His Chosen Wife


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Legend Grimson’s estate in Belle View sat on twelve acres of manicured grounds, hidden behind stone walls and wrought iron gates that opened only for people invited.

My father’s estate was the place where powerful men handled business without worrying about prying eyes or listening ears. We rarely met here; the point was to avoid problems altogether. That’s why we had capos and soldiers. But tonight was different, and my father was doing the most about it. I wanted to take over and be done, but as I stood in the foyer while his associates filed through the front door, I knew that wasn’t an option.

Uncle Tommy from Louisville. Big Mike from Knoxville. Clarence from Chattanooga. Not all blood, but family where it counted. Each of them had my respect, and I showed that as they came in waves, with heavy handshakes, strong cologne, and expensive suits.

The formal dining room had been transformed for the occasion. Pops had gone all out, and I had to give it to him; the shit looked incredible. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over the long mahogany table that could seat sixteen easily. Fine China, polished silver, linen napkins, folded perfectly. Fresh flower arrangements everywhere. Wine glasses that caught the light like diamonds. The table was set, and everybody already knew: the table belonged to me now. And anybody with a problem could choke on it.

“Looking sharp, son,” he said, appearing at my elbow in a charcoal suit that made me a little jealous. I prayed I looked as good as he did when I reached his age. At sixty-five, Legend Grimson was still that nigga. He still carried himself like the king he’d always been. No matter the losses or failures. And many envied him, but all respected him.

“You ready for this?”

“Been ready.”

At thirty-five, I’d been preparing for this my entire life. Tonight, he would officially pass control of the Coupeville operation to me. My reign as head of the Grimson Empire would start with a toast. A nigga felt like he’d finally made it. As the enforcer for the family for so long, I felt blessed to now be that nigga in all ways.

My burgundy suit was one of a kind. Tonight was a special night, so I couldn’t half-step.

“Just remember,” Pops said low, “these men respect strength, but they value discretion more. Tonight’s about showing them you’ve got both. Which I know you do, I raised you for this. Alone.”

“How could I forget, Pops?”

He never missed a chance to remind me. My mother died when I was two, and from then on, it was him and me against the world.

Heels cracked against the marble like gunfire, sharp and steady, pulling every head toward the foyer. Somebody was barking orders, clean, efficient, that no-nonsense tone that made people move without asking questions.

“If you listen to me, this will run like a well-oiled machine. I’m not a caterer, but you are my responsibility tonight. Don’t mess up my reputation.”

Then she came into the dining room, and everything else—the chatter, my father’s voice—faded to background noise.

She didn’t just walk in. She owned the muthafuckin room. Clipboard in hand, chin tipped like she had every right to be there—and she did. Even the waiters, grown men twice her size, fell in line under that quiet authority.

My eyes dragged over her—hair pulled back into a low bun, diamond studs catching the light, the elegant curve of her neck bare and begging for teeth.My teeth.She wasn’t trying too hard. She didn’t have to. She was the kind of woman who could stop traffic with a glance, make you forget what you were saying mid-sentence.

Beautiful came to mind, but the word was too light for her. She was majestic. Untouchable. The type who didn’t need a man to walk her into a room, because the room bent around her presence.

And shockingly, a nigga like me was just glad she wasn’t here on somebody else’s arm. Because if she was, I’d already be plotting how to fix that. Tonight, I planned to focus on the business at hand—but soon, and very soon, I’d know everything I needed to about her.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, voice smooth as aged whiskey. “I’m your event coordinator for the evening. Everything has been prepared to your specifications. Dinner is at eight. I’ve arranged complete privacy — no interruptions, no staff lingering.”

“Thank you. Everything looks good.”

“That’s what I like to hear. We aim to please. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She flowed through the room, checking details, adjusting a glass here, a centerpiece there. Professional to her fingertips, but the eyes gave her away, intelligence, awareness. She saw everything without it showing. This wasn’t her first time around power. I respected it. It also pulled something territorial out of me. Who, exactly, thought they were more powerful than me in this city? Because she hadn’t even glanced my way.

Taiwan, my cousin and lieutenant, nudged my shoulder with a sly grin just as I forced my eyes off her.

“Damn,” he muttered when she passed. “You see that? That’s a woman. Baby got ass for days.”

I saw her. Couldn’t stop seeing her. Hated that I didn’t know her name yet, but I’d bet it matched the face. She wasn’t from around here. That alone had my interest up.

“She’s beautiful,” I admitted, voice flat. “But make that the last time you look at her like that. Wandering eyes ass nigga.”

“Fuck you, Grim,” Taiwan chuckled. “Yo ass ain’t on shit. I ain’t even married yet. I got a few weeks to still be on bullshit.”

“Beautiful and dangerous,” my father cut in, like he always did. “A woman that sharp, working rooms like this? Either she knows nothing, or she knows everything.”

I tuned them both out because I wouldn’t be deterred.