Page 36 of A Don & His Doll

Promise was taken aback by Monroe’s disposition, and the fact that he hadn’t raised his voice once had infuriated her even more.

“Let me get this straight. You brought your fine ass up in here thinkin’ you was gone transfer all that bullshit you got pinned up inside of you into my womb instead of communicating with me. You feeling a way because I wanna talk to you about it? You accusing me of tryna treat you like I treat inmates I work with when all I’m tryna do is be here for you!” Promise was pissed.

Monroe headed straight to her closet, ignoring her because he knew he was wrong, but suddenly needing air. He grabbed a fresh pair of grey Polo sweats and a white Polo t-shirt. When he came to Promise’s house, he hadn’t come to argue or upset her nerves. He’d come to take his frustrations out on her pussy, but his plan had blown up in his face.

“Oh, so know you ain’t got nothing to say?” she quizzed following him to the closet.

Still nothing. Monroe slid his feet into a different pair of shoes than the ones he came in, then brushed past Promise like she was invisible. He descended her stairs with lightning speed and left without a word.

Promise stood in the middle of her closet, stuck because she couldn’t figure out what infuriated her more. Him coming into her space where they had always been open and honest with each other reserved, or that he hadn’t raised his voice once, then left without anything being resolved. Something was terribly wrong, Promise could feel it. Monroe had never acted this way with her, and the fact that this was happening now had unearthed an instability inside of her that she’d never had before when it came to her and Monroe.

Monroe's temper shot through the roof as he pushed through the double doors of Central Park Tower. Streetlights reflected against the wet pavement while drug dealers sat low inside their luxury cars occupying their blocks. Somewhere in the near distance, sirens wailed, and money moved beneath the surface of the city like blood through veins. He welcomed the coldness of the rain as it kissed his hot skin. He knew the way he'd left Promise was wrong. He knew he had brought his chaos into her peace, then left her standing in the middle of it with no explanation. That shit didn’t sit right with him. Promise didn’t deserve the version of him that had walked into her home, kissed her like he needed saving, then shut her out the moment she tried to reach him. He had every intention of making it up to her, but he couldn't deal with it until he got to the bottom of this shit with Sienna and his mother. There was more to it, he could feel it in his soul, and he refused to rest until he knew the full truth. Reaching for his phone that rested in the cup holder, Monroe scrolled to Miko’s text thread. He’d been an asset to the empire for years, and could discretely get access to sealed information on anybody in the world, all Monroe needed to do was send the name, and Miko knew what to do.

Macie Michelle Black.

Miko: On it.

He pressed the button on his key fob, hopped in his car, and jumped straight on the expressway. Monroe was in a mood. He drove in silence for four hours going nowhere in particular, he just needed to be alone with his thoughts. He dug deep searching for insight, and a solid strategy to help him get to the bottom of this chaos he struggled to make sense of. At two o'clock in the morning, he was pulling up to his Uncle Mitch's estate.

Monroe felt like he'd been played, but his uncle was the one person he felt would keep it real with him. Monroe signaled to security as he passed through the gate, and parked his car into Mitch's driveway. Future's On One thumped lowly as he eased his car in park, and finished smoking his kush-filled blunt.

Meanwhile, Mitch sat in his study, drinking Hennessy, and meditating the same as he'd always done at this hour. But when he caught a side-view glimpse of Monroe sitting in his driveway, Mitch stood to meet his nephew outside.

With his phone in one hand, Monroe inhaled and exhaled smoke from his nose as he stared at Promise's picture. Even with the distance that he'd created between them, he still felt her. He always felt her. That was their bond, and the connection was so deep it was scary. Promise was his peace. She ruled his heart. She was reflective of his home in a world that never allowed him to rest. And Sienna…Sienna was a reflective part of his past that he had unknowingly buried alive.

TAP..TAP...

Monroe looked up slowly when he heard the sound of knuckles tapping his window.

"What up, nephew?" Mitch greeted, stepping back as Monroe opened his door.

"What's good, Unc?" Monroe returned, slapping hands with Mitch, and pulling him in for a manly hug.

Mitch knew something was off with his nephew as soon as he stepped out of his car, but when they embraced, there was no mistaking the heaviness that weighed heavily on his shoulders.

The weight.

The anger.

The grief.

Mitch had raised too many killers, kings, and wounded boys disguised as men not to recognize pain when it stood in front of him. So while he wasn’t Monroe’s father, he’d still filled the role when his brother died. That was the thing about a real father who knew his son, he always paid attention to non-verbal cues, voice tones, and body language. Things like this always kept him on point, and in tune with his surroundings, and those who mattered most in his life.

"Come have a drink wit' me," Mitch said, leading the way into his estate.

It was quiet, but screamed extreme wealth. Dark wood. Marble floors. Low lighting. Artwork that cost more than some people’s mortgages. They moved through the house until they reached Mitch’s study, a room that smelled like a mix of sandalwood, cigar smoke, leather, and old power. Mitch went straight to his mini bar, and poured Monroe a double shot, straight, no ice.

"What's on yo' mind, nephew?" Mitch asked, handing Monroe his glass.

Monroe let out a hard breath, accepting the glass, but not speaking right away.

"Man, Unc," Monroe sat down and began. "I been tryna wrap my head around this shit for a couple days, and the more I analyze this shit the more fucked up it becomes."

Mitch sat down at his desk and continued to listen.

Monroe took a gulp, welcoming the slight burn before he began. "The other day I got a call from Ms. Davis. She asked me to meet her at her restaurant, but when I got there, she wasn't there... Sienna was."

Mitch clenched his teeth, and shook his head, but continued to listen.