“I’m a grown man, and I can handle my shit. It would make me less of a man if I left you to this. I don’t move like that, flawed or not. I want to protect you, and during that time, I want you to enjoy your life on my dime.”
I looked down at the papers. I could see the lines clearly, the places where my life would stitch to his, the places where I stayed myself.
“Coco. I have legit businesses. More than you probably realize.”
Every part of me screamed not to do it. But when I looked at him, steady and sure, the fear twisted into attraction. Maybe curiosity. Maybe both. I wasn’t saying yes because I believed in him. I was saying yes because I didn’t trust myself to walk away. He’d keep showing up, and I’d eventually give in. There was no need for the cat-and-mouse game.
The pen felt heavier than it was when I picked it up.
This was survival, but it didn’t feel like survival. It felt like surrender, and not the kind I’d ever planned on giving.
“Before I sign,” I said, and he waited without blinking, “I need to hear you say something for me.”
“Say what you need, and you’ll have it.”
“That you won’t treat this like a debt I can never pay. That you won’t turn my yes into a leash. I don’t want to be your concubine. I don’t want to be a trophy wife. I want to be me still while being with you.”
His jaw flexed. When he spoke again, the roughness was gone, his voice iron straight. “I’m not saving you to own you. You say yes because you choose it. And if you choose out after a year, you walk. No penalty. No ghosts. No mess.”
The server set down the dessert plate, sensing the air shifting. Dark chocolate torte, raspberry coulis, like a smear of red lipstick on porcelain. He waited for her to step back, then turned his wrist so the face of his watch flashed in the low light.
I signed my first initial before I realized I’d done it. Then the second. Then the third. The pen didn’t scrape. It glided. When I reached the last line, I paused and lifted my eyes to his. The silence between us wasn’t empty. It was full.
He set his hand over mine on the page, the heat of his palm grounding me the way a truth does when you finally stop fighting it.
“You can trust me.”
I finished the signature and set the pen down. The shock wave I’d been living through all week didn’t crash this time. It spread out and settled, and for the first time all week, I felt like I had ground under me. I picked up my fork and tasted the chocolate. It was rich and a little bitter and perfect.
He watched my mouth with a focus that made everything inside me feel seen from the inside out.
“You’ll like being Mrs. Grimson,” he said quietly, certain of it
I swallowed and let a smile show. “We’ll see.”
He laughed once, a low sound that rolled right through me. “We will.”
The moment we stepped outside Sasha Roe I felt that familiar charge that came after closing a deal. No going back from this one. It ran through me the same way blood did. My hand found the small of Colecion's back as we walked toward the valet, and just like that, she was moving under my lead.
The night air was warm, jasmine in the breeze, music spilling from other spots along the strip. Normal Saturday night energy. But nothing about tonight was normal. Not after what she’d just signed. Not after the way she’d met my eyes across that table, steady when most people broke.
Letting her go would’ve been the clean play. But I don’t do clean when the alternative looks like her. She wasn’t just another witness. She was pressure-tested, held her line while the world folded around her. That’s worth more than silence. More than fear. Hell, maybe even worth the crown I’d just taken.
“Coco,” I said low, just for her. “You good?”
She nodded, stayed close. I knew she was conflicted even after agreeing. This was going to be an adjustment, but I genuinely wanted her to be okay. I wanted more than survival out of her. I wanted the parts nobody else had seen. The weight she carried like the bag lady Erykah Badu sang about. The losses she never said out loud. I wanted the fight and the fire and the softness she tried to hide under it.
Somewhere along the way, she decided solitude was safer. Maybe even what she deserved. But she was wrong about that. Dead wrong.
And I was gonna be the one to prove it.
Truth was, Colecion had been living in my head rent-free since that night. I was consumed. When Malice called with updates—Pilates at seven, VHS tapes from that dusty store like it was ‘98—I stopped everything to listen. She moved through life like it still had magic, and what was supposed to be a problem had become a path neither of us saw coming.
And that night in the basement? I wasn’t supposed to see her. She wasn’t supposed to hear what she heard. But God was like that. Always putting the pieces where they belong, even when the shit felt crooked.
Now I just had to make sure I didn’t scare her off before she saw the bigger picture.
“You know this changes everything,” I said, guiding her closer to me, letting my arm slide around her waist. “No more hiding. No more looking over your shoulder. You’re under my protection now.”
