“That tells me you’re single.”
I arched a brow. “So now you know everything about me.”
“I know enough. And if there was a man, I wouldn’t care,” he said, eyes steady on mine. “Anybody in our way would’ve been moved. Quickly. You know that.”
“I do. Rashad is still spooked,” I said with a smirk playing on my lips.
He glanced at the booth, then back at me. “Would it be too forward if I asked you to slide in with me?”
His question set a flame in me, and it shouldn’t have made me breathless considering how we met and what was currently transpiring. I was a big girl and used to shit like this, but his whole persona left me breathless and speechless.
I stood up in a slow roll, letting him watch me stand. His eyes followed the line of my body; he enjoyed the view. I moved around and slipped into the leather beside him. When I settled, he wrapped his arm around my waist and let his palm rest heavyon my thigh. I shuddered at the touch. I dropped my eyes to collect myself before I looked back up.
“I don’t want you afraid of me, Colecion,” he said, warm against my ear. “I do want you to understand I need you. I don’t say that often. But I do.”
His eyes shouldn’t have been that soft. Not from a man I’d watched kill somebody with his bare hands days ago. It didn’t add up, and maybe that’s what scared me most: he could make murder and candlelight look like they belonged in the same breath.
“Uhm… excuse me. I need to go to the restroom.”
I slid out of the booth before he could answer and made my way to the back. My heels clicked on the tile, steady even though I felt anything but.
Inside, I gripped the sink and looked at myself. Same face, same steady eyes, but my body felt different. It had been rewired just sitting next to him. My thigh still remembered the weight of his hand. And that scent, chill but masculine, expensive, clung to me.
“Girl, what are you doing?” I muttered.
One part of me wanted to shove him off, remind myself who the hell he was. I’d seen him take a man’s life with nothing but his hands. That wasn’t a rumor. That was a fact. But the other part was leaning in, reckless enough to wonder what it would feel like to be with somebody like him. A man who carried death in one hand but my wildest dreams in another.
I splashed some water on my wrists, trying to cool off, but it didn’t do a damn thing. His presence was still on me, under my skin, in my head. Were we going to fall in love? Was this insane? Would my friends judge me? I was spiraling until I heard soft taps on the door.
“Coco.” I froze. “Colecion, look I’d love to keep this up, but I don’t want to hurt you. Not intentionally. So, you can relax and stop hiding from a nigga.”
I opened the door and came face to face with such a beautiful masterpiece of a damn man. He was easily over six feet, all broad shoulders and quiet dominance, but it was the body that did it for me. I imagined the strength, the control, the power tucked under that black shirt. My eyes slipped before I could stop them.
“Eyes up, baby,” he laughed, catching me roaming further south than I intended.
Heat crawled up my neck, and I hated that he noticed. Still, I let him guide me back to the booth, his palm firm against the small of my back. Sliding in beside him again felt too easy; my body was betraying me, leaning toward him when my brain should’ve been leaning out the door.
I told myself I could focus, that I could stay sharp, but the way his arms wrapped around me made it damn near impossible. He poured me wine without asking, topped off his own glass, and nodded. It felt likewewere already settled.
That’s when the plates started to arrive. Course after perfect course, oysters, lamb, truffle pasta, while his thumb traced idle lines against my skin. He kept his arm around me through all of it.
“Say it plain,” I told him, finally. “If I sign this, this is real. Legal. Not a game. Not a story you’ll spin when it suits you.”
“Real as it gets,” he confirmed. “Long enough for the heat to die down, for people to move on to different problems. Then we revisit.”
“How long is that?”
“Months, a year, I don’t know.”
I sighed. His honesty unsettled me more than a rehearsed answer would have.
“What I do know is that you keep your business. Your name is your name. If you want it hyphenated, it’s hyphenated. Your accounts stay yours. No surprises. You get my protection, my silence, and my last name. I get your silence and your presence. We both get to keep shit P.”
“I don’t understand one thing, Grim?—”
“Lesley,” he cut in, voice low. “You’ll know when to call me Grim.”
I blinked, thrown for a second, then pressed on. “Lesley, this is just one situation. From what I’ve seen, you and your family are into a lot. What happens when it’s something else?”
