Page 64 of Real's Love

I scowled at her. “Then what is it?”

She blew out a soft breath and looked down for a moment. Finally, her pretty brown gaze tangled with mine.

“It’s really not your concern, Real. I figure, this way, we can make a clean break. It’s been really nice, and you were very generous, but I think it’s time we part ways.”

To say shorty’s little cool, calm statement caught me off-guard was an understatement. Not even Cairo’s punch would’ve stunned me more. I just stared at her for a minute as an unfamiliar feeling sideswiped me. I pushed that shit down in a hurry, though, focusing on the anger her flip-ass words evoked in me. My lips rose in a half smile.

“This about that phone call? Or that Naaman shit?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. The fact that there would be an ending, hopefully an amicable one, was understood from the beginning.”

“What, you got another sponsor?” I jeered.

Something flickered in her light brown gaze, something she squashed quickly. She didn’t say anything, just reached into her oversized bag and pulled out a padded Manila envelope.

“I didn’t know if I would see you, so I planned to pack this stuff up and have it delivered to you,” she said quietly, opening the package.

But I didn’t give a fuck what was in that envelope. I needed an answer to my question.

“Who is it? I know the nigga ain’t fuckin’ you like I do. Doubt his money like mine. So, tell me, love, just for curiosity’s sake. Who paying for you now?” I demanded, my words deliberately nasty.

She froze for a minute, her hands clutching that envelope, her mouth slightly parted like she wanted to say something. Instead, after a minute, she started pulling things from the envelope. First, was a cashier’s check.

“You paid advance rent. They refunded it,” she explained as I looked at the watermarked paper. “The key fob for the BMW. It’s in storage at a place owned by Liam, so you know it’s in good hands.”

She pulled out a couple more things and kept talking like I was supposed to care about any of it. I was fighting to hold on to my right mind. I’d never hurt her, but shit could still get bad.

“Evanie,” I growled, balling up the check and throwing it at her feet. “I’on want that shit. Answer my question.”

Another pause. Another calm look.

“Real, if there is another so-called ‘sponsor,’ that’s not your business. Can’t we just?—"

“Nah! Nah, ‘we can’t just’ cuz you handled this shit real shady. A move this big, you probably been knowing about it. Longer than the two weeks you tried to contact me! Why you ain’t tell me before?” I demanded, crowding into her space again.

“I really didn’t think you’d care. Don’t act like you ain’t probably fucking three or four other bitches, Montréal,” she hissed, her composure slipping.

Good. I wanted her aggravated, mad, feeling as fucked up as I was, even if she was wrong about my sex life. Shorty planned to walk away fromme, Real Hamilton, without saying anything? That ain’t how this shit worked. One side of my mouth twisted up into a smirk.

“Shoulda told me that bothered you, love,” I taunted.

Instantly, she was back to her detached self. Her face was cool as she ran a hand over her hair.

“I’m not bothered. We have no claims to each other. I don’t have the vested interest to be bothered by you and your bed partners,” she announced coldly. “Honestly, that’s why I find your reaction surprising.”

I didn’t know if she meant it as a jab, but that’s how I took it. I chuckled.

“Don’t flatter yourself, mama. I’m just looking out—I’on need some crazy nigga plotting on me over pussy.”

“Hmm.” She looked at me for a moment. “You have nothing to worry about.”

The fuck did that mean? Was there someone else or not? She was being coy, and I didn’t like that.

“So, I hope we’ll be able to split on good terms?”

I felt my smile shift all the way to evil. Grabbing her throat gently, I tilted her head back until her eyes met mine.

“Yeah. But how about one last fuck for old time’s sake?” I asked crudely.

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