“Because you left without explanation, these papers show up like some test. You want me to sign away rights to money I never wanted while you can’t even keep your word about coming home or calling. Do you not trust me?”
“This wasn’t me. I ain’t never lied to you. I wouldn’t start now.”
I shook my head. “And expensive gifts don’t work on me. Thanks, but do better than that. Keep your fucking word if you want to impress me.”
He studied me long enough to let me know he didn’t believe me, long enough for me to feel exposed under that gaze. Then he stood, placing me on my feet. I bounced from foot to foot as he rinsed his plate, put it neatly in the sink, then walked past me—close enough that his heat brushed my skin.
“That pink looks good on you,” he said quietly, his eyes lingering on the workout set before meeting mine. “I missed—” He stopped himself, shook his head. “You want me home tonight?”
Everything in me wanted to screamno. To throw his absence back in his face and tell him I didn’t care where he laid his head. But the lie stuck in my throat. I wasn’t built to play cold with him, not all the way. And definitely not for long.
“If you want to be,” I said finally, my tone flat. “I’ll cook. No pressure though.”
“What time you want me here?”
“Six,” I said, unsure where this conversation was headed but not wanting it to end. “What do you have a taste for?”
His mouth curved into approval, and a soft smile crept into his expression. “Surprise me. I trust you.”
When he disappeared down the hallway towards the bedroom, I exhaled. I’d been holding my breath since he walked in.
“It won’t happen again. Have a good day, pretty baby.”
I smiled and slid the envelope into the junk drawer, tucking it out of sight where it couldn’t stare me down anymore. Tonight, I’d cook for him. Tell him the truth that had been waiting to come out.
I didn’t want to leave.
I didn’t want to be free.
I wanted to be his.
Later that day…
The warehouse was shutting down. Trucks pulled off, doors slammed, crew clearing out. It felt good to be back home. I was out back finishing a blunt when Taiwan came looking for me.
I needed the air. This morning's conversation with Coco was still sitting on me. The prenup, the two weeks of silence, the way she slid that plate across the counter like she worked at fuckin diner. She'd been letting me in before I left, and I’d walked out without a word and come home to find my father had made it worse.
I’d fucked up. She had every right to be pissed.
I cracked a smile anyway. Because she wasn't really asking about another woman — she was asking if I’d chosen her. And the answer was yes, but I hadn't given her any reason to believe that yet.
I pulled on the blunt and let that sit.
“Club Velvet tonight,” Taiwan’s voice cut in.
I shook my head. “Nah. Not tonight.”
He laughed. “Not tonight? You ain’t been out since you took over, Grim. What’s up?”
“I got dinner plans,” I said.
He smirked, shaking his head. “Dinner plans? With your wife?”
“Yeah. With my wife. I ain’t you.”
“Damn, you really are domesticated now.”
I let him talk his shit. Because the truth was, that penthouse had started feeling like home in a way none of my other properties ever did. And Coco was the reason.
