Page 79 of Addicted

I mean, I lived with him. Slept in his bed every night. He bought me everything I could ever want. He was possessive as hell over me, and I was starting to feel the same way about him.

We hadn’t put a label on it, but what else would you call this?

I thought back to the day he’d surprised me with the design room.

After we had sex, after he’d fucked me so good I could barely think straight, I really thought he was going to say he loved me.

He didn’t say it.

But the look in his eyes wasn’t the same as the usual crazed, obsessive look he typically gave me. I mean, he still had that look, but it was softened by something deeper. Something that had made my breath catch and my heart start to race.

I shook the thought off and walked over to my closet, trying to decide what I was going to wear.

Stone had arranged for someone to pick Aurora up and bring her to the estate, and she should be arriving in the next hour, along with Stone’s guests.

I stood inside the walk-in closet, running my fingers over the racks of designer clothes. I was still getting used to the fact that all of it was mine to choose form.

Eventually, I settled on something that felt right. A black Balmain top cut close to my body, paired with distressed Givenchy denim that hugged every curve like it had been made for me. I slipped into a pair of cute heels and kept everything else minimal. Just diamondhoops and a matching necklace resting at my collarbone.

I ventured out of the master bedroom to find Ishmael. He was in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed with a controller in his hands, playing some game on his Xbox.

He looked up when he saw me enter.

“Damn, sis,” he said, pausing the game. “You look good.”

I smiled. “Thank you, baby.” I walked over and sat down next to him on the bed. “Listen,” I said. “We got people coming over in a little bit for a barbecue. I need you to make sure you come out and speak to our guests when they get here, okay?”

Ish rolled his eyes. “Do I have to?”

I gave him a look. “Yes, you have to. Don’t be rude.”

He sighed heavily, like I was asking him to do the most difficult thing in the world.

“Aight, fine,” he said. “I’ll come out and speak.”

“Thank you,” I said, standing up. “And don’t stay in here all day. Come hang out for a little bit.”

“I will,” he said, already unpausing his game.

I shook my head, smiling as I left his room.

I made my way downstairs and headed toward the outdoor kitchen where I knew Brady would be putting the finishing touches on the feast he’d prepared.

When I stepped outside, the smell hit me immediately. Barbecued chicken, ribs, burgers, hot dogs. All perfectly seasoned and grilled to perfection.

Brady was standing at the grill, flipping a rack of ribs with expert precision.

On the long outdoor table, there were trays ofmacaroni and cheese, roasted potatoes with herbs, collard greens, baked beans, coleslaw, and cornbread.

My eyes lingered on it for a second, because it wasn’t Brady’s. I’d made that.

The rest of the food—everything else on the table—that was all Brady. But the cornbread… that was mine.

The night before came back to me without warning. Stone had been lying next to me in bed while I watched some TV show, watching me the way he always did, with a quiet intensity that I’d grown used to.

“Can you make some more of that cornbread for tomorrow? Like you did before,” he’d said.

His request caught me off guard. And when I didn’t answer right away, he’d added, “Please.”