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“You think I stayed because I loved you?” I sneered. “I stayed because it was convenient. You were good for my image.
“You had options, Aurmoni. Now, you got consequences.”
Borrowing money from Big Black wasn’t the mistake; believing I could outrun the debt was.
I swallowed hard. There were sharks, and then there was Bankston DeLuca. He didn’t just take what you owed—he took pieces of you until there was nothing left but regret.
I wasn’t just in debt. I was owned.
All I could think of was Bankston DeLuca. One of the meanest, coldest, killers in Houston with literal mob ties.
“I’m not overly independent. I just ain’t never been able to depend on no damn man. It’s a difference. I ain’t giving my body or freedom up for the fuck niggas we got walking around here as options to date.
Marriage ruined everything. I had seen too many couples go from happy to strangers, all because of that damn piece of paper.
They started with passion, with love, but the moment they said I do, things shifted. They got comfortable. They stopped trying.
“Your place is small but not as poverty-stricken as it looked from the outside. A little cramped, a little too lived-in, but it isn’t a complete shit hole. I can see why you couldn’t pay my damn money back. You broke as hell. No luxury. No excess. Just the bare minimum.”
I liked my women eating their cornbread and pinto beans. Rice and cabbage. All the shit that made the parts of a woman’s body that I loved spread from the East to the West. Fuckin’ right. Aurmoni had that shit I liked, and I was glad she owed me. I was gon’ collect every single dime one way or another.
I wanted my damn money, and I wasn’t Big Black. I didn’t take pussy as payment. Although her ass had me thinking about it, there’s no such thing as a quarter of a million dollar pussy. That’s what she owed me.
And there’s a clause. If you pop that little pussy on another nigga, you get nothing. And your club? It’s mine. You not about to have me out here looking like a damn fool. I’m a household name in this city. My family runs shit above and underground.”
I didn’t even look at her when I tossed it in her direction—just a quick flick of my wrist. The bills landed on the sheets with a soft flutter.
This ain’t the old South. Bitch, I’ll stomp yo’ ass for all my ancestors. Stop fuckin’ playing with me, pussy ass hoe!”
All I knew was, next time, if I had my way, Red wouldn’t leave the meeting in one piece. Break his ass down and scatter him like roaches when the lights come on in the Gulf of Mexico.
“You reek of cigar smoke. Classy.” I smirked. “And you reek of desperation. That man still not texting you back?”
I didn’t want a wife. I didn’t want a kid. But power demanded sacrifice, and the cost of my crown was bloodline and legacy.
Aurmoni wasn’t a woman who could be controlled easily, but that’s what made this game interesting.
That was why my father pissed me off. Because he still believed he ruled me. That was why Aurmoni had me on edge. Because I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to be the one thing in my world I couldn’t control.
She was the next move, the final piece to his power play. But she wasn’t just some pawn—she was a wild card. And if there was one thing I knew about my best friend, it was that he hated wild cards.
Hell, Giovanni would have his ass floating in the Gulf of Mexico. Shit, the orange wig-wearing bastard changed it to the Gulf of America. Weak ass shit don’t even sound the same.
“He’d kill you. Literally.” That wasn’t a fucking joke. It was a fact. Bankston didn’t play about family. And if he ever found out his best friend slept with his baby sister? Yeah. I’d be a dead man.
I was definitely gonna enjoy this one. Lena Ford was hell, and I was ready to be consumed.
“You not my bitch, so stop showing your fuckin’ ass in this club, drawing attention. You know I don’t play that shit.”
Aria turned, too, her expression going from jealous to lethal. “Bitch, did somebody send for you? Go fetch me a drink before shit gets wicked in here.”
Lena laughed, bold and unbothered. “And yet, here I am. Watching your little tantrum like it’s a fucking telenovela. Bitch, it’s giving weak and desperate.”
Aria’s dumb ass always thought beauty equated to a small frame, but little did she know, her attitude and ways made her the ugly one.
Besides, I like women with some meat on their bones and fire in their belly. Lena definitely had my attention.
You crashing out after just a taste. If I did all the nasty shit I normally do, yo’ ass would be in jail. Go the fuck home.”
He wasn’t going to help pay that shit, but I may be able to make him my next lil’ shit with his mean ass.
Aurmoni and I had been tight since the first grade. She was the quiet, sweet one, and I was the one cussing out teachers and flipping off hall monitors.
She didn’t have a reason other than her precious freedom. Her ass didn’t value anything more than that.
Men were disposable to Moni. She wasn’t bitter. She never let a nigga get close enough to make her that way.
I was getting her out of this jam by any means necessary. Operation Free My Bitch was in full effect.
Emeric exhaled, running a hand over his beard. “And you really think she’ll take it if I offer?” I tilted my head, grinning. “Who said anything about offering? Sometimes you gotta give without asking.”
“Ain’t no rules in either place,” he said simply. “You trust the wrong person, hesitate at the wrong time, and you’re dead. People move differently when they got nothing to lose. Or when they think they’re untouchable.”
“I gotta warn you. I’m known for breaking a nigga’s pockets.” “Nah, ma, they just didn’t have deep enough ones. I ain’t nothing like any nigga you fucked with. You’ll love it here. Promise.”
“We about to be seeing a lot of each other, Lena. Can’t have my woman dressed in anything other than the best.”
Dante exhaled. “The way I normally escort someone against their will would be inappropriate.” Silence. Then, in that low, dark, amused tone, Bankston said, “Say less. I’m on my way.”
“Cute.” He slid his hands into his pockets, too casual, too controlled. “See, I don’t like my woman talking to another man like this. I don’t give a fuck about nostalgia. Old friends. If you her gay homeboy. None of that shit.”
He was my best hype man. DJ Mustard had nothing on him.
“Right?! Like, why the fuck do you need an heir so bad? We’re not royalty! I swear, this nigga’s whole personality is ‘Daddy, look at me!’”
“That sounds like a good time to me. My switch getting rusty ’cause I ain’t used it. Type shit.”
That type shit made me wet, though, with my lil’ toxic ass. Hell, all I was surrounded by was no good ass men. Of course, I was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. I didn’t give a fuck. I liked what I liked.
Neari didn’t blink, didn’t react to the threat in Dante’s tone. He just grinned, slow and easy, before hitting him with a smooth-as-hell lie. “Some hoe gave me this address at the club. Said to pull up.” He gave a lazy shrug. “Figured why not? But seems like I got the wrong fuckin’ spot.”
“I’m gonna call you, and you better answer the damn phone.” I yanked my arm back, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, nigga. Whatever.” But the truth? I was gonna answer.
I let my fingers trail over the money. I was loyal to Moni first. Always. But if this was a way to get her out? Maybe I had to play the game.
“I protect whatever belongs to me.”
“Where is what?” I asked. “That damn rose. All you women have one.”
