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“Thank you,” I smiled, taking in the rest of him. When he smiled back, I caught the flash of his platinum open-face grills and felt my stomach dip.

Ugh. I wanted to hate his sexy ass so badly.

He helped me into the back seat. The interior was all black leather; his monogram embroidered on the headrest. The driver gave me a nod through the rearview mirror.

“Evening, ma’am,” he said before putting up the partition.

Cardez pulled me into him before the partition finished closing, his mouth going straight to my neck.

“Dez!” I yelped.

“You look so fucking good,” he growled between kisses. “Smell good as fuck too.” His lips moved up toward my jaw. He turned my face toward his and kissed me slowly, one hand on the exposed skin of my back. Tingles ran all over my body as warmth spread between my thighs.

“My lipstick,” I said against his mouth.

“I don’t care.”

I laughed, pushing him off me and reached into my clutch for my compact. I reapplied a fresh coat and made sure the rest of my makeup was still intact. He watched me with an amused look on his face, like he was already planning all the ways he would mess it up again later.

“Finished, Princess?” he asked.

“Oh whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes.

He chuckled and put his arm around me. I let myself settle against him, the scent of his YSL cologne wrapping around me as the Navigator moved through the city.

There was a long queue of black cars dropping guests off when we pulled up. A red carpet area was set up near the entrance with photographers positioned on either side.

“Do we have to take a picture?” I asked, suddenly nervous. I wasn’t camera shy, but I didn’t know if it was a good idea for us to be photographed together, considering the circles he moved in.

“It’s kinda part of the whole thing,” he replied as he placed his hand on the small of my back. “But you can stand off to the side if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Yeah, you go ahead. I don’t want to steal your shine,” I joked. He gave me a funny look but didn’t press the issue. I stood off to the side while he took a couple of pictures and then extended his hand to me when he was done.

“For what it’s worth, I would’ve loved to have you steal my shine any day,” he said.

I felt my cheeks flush.

The event was being held at Fifty-Four Twelve—an event space in Midtown on the thirtieth floor with panoramic views of Manhattan. Cardez held my hand as we moved through the room. Hundreds of mini disco balls hung from the ceiling at varying heights, scattering light across the space. The tables were dressed in jewel-toned linens with large, elaborate floral centerpieces, and a live jazz band was playing on a small stage near the back.

The people in here were definitely different from the rich folks I was used to being around. This was the other world of the elite, the darker side. Women wore understated pieces that I knew cost more than what I was wearing. I caught fragments of conversations as we passed—foundation boards, talks about summer homes—and reminded myself that I was La’Belle Mafia Evans and I belonged here just as much as they did.

“Your friend is here,” Cardez said, nodding toward the bar. I looked over to see Siani in a wine-colored gown talking to Tariq. That treacherous heifer didn’t tell me she was coming. I slipped my hand out of Dez’s and headed toward them.

“Ahem.” I walked up behind them with my hand on my hip. “Funny meeting you here.”

“Belle!” Siani threw her hands up before pulling me into a hug. “And bitch, you ain’t tell me you were coming either.”

“Someone sprung this on me last minute.” I side-eyed Cardez. I pulled back to look at her dress. “You look good, friend.”

“Thanks, boo.” She did a little spin. “Tariq got it for me last week.”

I glanced at Tariq, who was leaning against the bar and watching us with an amused expression.

“Nice to see you again,” I said.

“Likewise.” He smiled, raising his glass.

“Baby. We’re gonna go to the restroom real quick,” Siani said to Tariq, grabbing my arm.