Page 69
I sipped my drink and kept my eyes on Belle.
“Charming women are dangerous, Cardez,” Pops warned. “You get so caught up in their web and overlook questions you should be asking.”
“You talking about her or Ma?”
His jaw ticked.
Good. Nigga been pissing me off all night.
“You’re sitting here looking at this girl like you’d go to war for her. What do you know about her? Where’s she from? Who are her people?”
“You think I didn’t do my research?”
I said it like Gideon Locke hadn’t called her by a different name twenty minutes earlier. Belle’s reasoning made sense. Women gave men fake names all the time, and she regularly dealt with weird men at the nightclub.
It was the timing that bothered me. Pops asking what I actually knew about her right after I found out she had a whole alias.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not trying to fight with you, son. I’m trying to make sure you don’t make the same mistakes I did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He blew out a breath and shook his head. “Never mind. Just be careful.”
He finished the rest of his drink and stood, buttoning his jacket. He patted my shoulder and left. Belle caught my eye from across the room and tilted her head. I winked at her and smiled.
I was done playing like this was casual.
“What’d you think?” I asked as I helped Belle into the Navigator. She kicked off her heels as I got in beside her.
“I mean your father hates me, but I guess it was mostly fine,” she yawned.
“He doesn’t hate you,” I said.
Belle rolled her eyes. “Well, he definitely thinks I’m not good enough to be seen with you and all your little mafioso friends.”
That pulled a laugh out of me. “It’s not no damn mafia.”
“That’s what somebody in a mafia would say.” She sighed and looked out the window.
“This isn’t the way to my apartment.”
“We’re going to my place tonight.”
Her head whipped to look at me. “Your place?”
“You’ve never been curious as to what my place looks like?”
“Duh,” she said, curling against me. “Just didn’t think it’d be tonight.”
The Navigator pulled up in front of my building in Harlem. I nodded at the doorman, Winston, on our way in and led Belle to my private elevator.
I owned a penthouse suite on the top floor. She got out ahead of me when the doors opened into the living room.
My place had an open layout with dark hardwood floors throughout and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the Harlem River. My designer picked out the furniture, my only requirement being that the place needed to look like a grown man lived in it.
Belle walked through the living room and stopped at the glass cabinet.
“Is that a LEGO set?”
