“Oh, so you’re running the show now?”
I smirked slightly. “Yeah. And you’re in my alley, and can’t stay here.”
Zay hesitated, then nodded at Ralo.
In one swift move, Ralo lifted her over his shoulder.
“Let me down! This is kidnapping!” she screamed.
Zay grabbed her three designer bags off the ground.
Dior.
Even rock bottom looked expensive on her. She was down on her luck and hadn’t sold her duffel bags. That let me know she was still holding on to who she used to be.
I bent down and picked up her sketch pad.
Looked at the drawing.
A man.
Strong jaw. Light brown and green eyes.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
Is that me?
“Come on, bro!” Zay shouted.
I tucked the sketch pad under my arm and walked back to the car.
“Drop me at my office. I need to see Marcel.”
We rode back in silence. I thought he was going to ask me about what Yuna said about us, but he didn’t.
All I knew was this.
My future bride was an addict.
And Marcel had some explaining to do about the Laveaus letting their prized possession fall into drugs and trauma.
Zay pulled up to my glass building.
“I’m getting her right,” he said. “Not for you. For her. I can’t see her dead out here.”
I nodded. “I hear you. We’ll talk.”
We dapped up.
I stepped out and tossed the sketch pad back onto the seat.
Inside my office, I called my pilot.
“Get the jet ready. I’m flying to France tonight.”
“Storm over Marseille. Grounded for twenty-two hours.”
I stared out the window at the city lights.
