Page 70 of The Love of Priest

Scurrying behind Jason, Britain tried her best to keep up in her heels. Overthinking about one small misstep in her heels, her mind drifted to the day she and Priest met again in front of Remy's house. He prevented her from busting her ass in the way-too-tall heels she wanted to sport. The thought of him jokingly asking whether she knew how to walk in the shoes caused a light smile to grow on her face.

This felt wrong, as if she were betraying his trust or something. Britain just didn’t think she could go through with it, but it was too late. Britain was too cast away in her thoughts to even realize that she and Jason had bypassed different levels of security. Once she felt Jason shove her through a set of thick, heavy oak doors, she snapped out of her thoughts.

Screaming internally at the fact that her abrupt entrance drew a few eyes, Britain kept her head low and took a seat on the right side of the courtroom toward the back— behind New York State prosecutor Daniel Hernandez.

Nervously, Britain's eyes scoped the room. They instantly gravitated toward the left side of the room where Priest was seated alongside his lawyer, opposite of Daniel. Luckily, Priest didn't grow alarmed by her entrance, so he kept his head facing forward toward the judge. Britain knew that with one glance over his shoulder, he would have known that she was in attendance.

Her eyes continued to survey the room. Regret began to set in once she locked eyes with J'Ru. He was confused to see her, especially sitting on the opposite side. He darted his questioning orbs from her face then down to the lanyard she had around her neck. Reading the print on the lanyard, J'Ru shook his head in disappointment. Britain knew that look. That was the look of betrayal, and J'Ru's eyes filled with it as his eyes pierced hers.

Britain shot him a look of sorrow, silently imploring that he wouldn't jump to any conclusions, but he seemed to not have a care in the world. J'Ru's main priority was to keep his family safe from anyone who seemed to be playing both sides. At this moment, that was exactly what Britain looked to be doing. One second, she was in the Hamptons with Priest, and the next, she was sitting on the opposite side of the courtroom from him. Life had a funny way of playing things out.

Britain just hoped Priest would allow her some time to explain. She had no intentions of slandering him like Nathan had been doing in previous articles. She was going to take a different approach, one she knew both Frankie and Priest would be pleased with.

Coming to the conclusion that her front pager wouldn't be writing itself, Britain opened her laptop and clicked throughThe New York Times’writer’s portal after logging in with the proper credentials. She started the voice recorder on her phone and focused on what she was told to do—tell a story.

ChapterTwenty

Priest's gaitout of the courthouse was being monitored and recorded by the swarm of media that was awaiting the end of the court session. Priest, along with his attorney and his family, was allowed to exit the premises first before anyone else. Unlike any other time when he left court, Priest didn't have that beaming and charismatic smile on his face. His jaw was clenched as the shades he now wore barricaded his eyes.

Ushering him into the SUV, Cyro listened to Priest's orders. "Stay behind and clock that gray Charger. Make sure she doesn’t get to her spot in Harlem before I do. Don't fuck this up," Priest gritted.

Cyro nodded. He was familiar with the gray Charger Priest was speaking of since he always managed to keep a close eye on Britain when Priest was nowhere in sight. Priest had everyone watched from a comfortable distance. It gave him the reassurance that his family was safe, and no one was turning their back on him and doing shit they weren't supposed to.

Shutting the door to the SUV, Cyro tapped the rear of the vehicle, signaling that the driver was free to go. Leaning back in his seat as they pulled off, Priest placed his hand on his right knee hoping it would put an end to the rapid bouncing. Furious was an understatement. The entire trial, Priest sat facing the judge. He felt a strong energy rush over him after a while of listening to Hernandez plead his side of the case. Glancing over his shoulder, he was surprised to see that it was Britain who caused the shift in energy. She was present, which interfered with his train of thought.

Seeing her on the opposite side from him had him wanting to flip the table and go fucking ballistic. Priest could have fucking sworn he told Britain he didn't want her in the vicinity of the courthouse during his trial. The fact that she pulled a shit show like this had him regretting a few fucking things.

Priest was trying desperately to calm himself down. He didn't want to go on a rampage and jump off the deep end, but he felt betrayed and backstabbed. The one thing Priest hated the most was the feeling of being played. Britain had him feeling exactly like that at the moment.

In Priest's mind, he had confided in her, shared his best quality and traits, and opened up to her just so she could do some sick shit like this. He wasn't sure what his actions were going to be when he caught up with Britain face to face, but he knew if things came to an end because of this, he wouldn't regret his decision at all.

His phone vibrated in the pocket of his suit jacket, and he retrieved it. Glancing down at the screen, he answered once he realized it was J'Ru. "Son, what the fuck was that?" J'Ru asked as he sent Sylvia's SUV off with her inside before he got into the appointed SUV of his own.

"I don't know. I'll hit you when I get shit figured out," Priest informed him, not giving J'Ru the chance to say anything else before he ended the phone call. Priest really didn't need to hear any I told you so's or receive any suggestions about how he should go about the situation. J'Ru was a cautious guy, so of course he had his reservations about Priest’s sudden interest in Britain. He didn't think Britain was a bad person, but the trust needed to be earned, and he hoped Priest hadn’t made the mistake of telling her more than she needed to know.

Priest’s mind went completely blank as he sat through the ride to Britain's apartment. He knew Cyro was doing what he could to stall Britain and keep her from getting to her place before he did. Britain had a mean streak when it came to traffic and reckless driving, so he knew she was behind her wheel cursing up a storm at the unmarked black on black SUV.

Arriving at Britain's apartment, Priest handed the chauffeur a hefty tip before getting out of the vehicle. The cold winds drifted over him as he adjusted his suit. Surveying the parking lot, he noticed that Britain's vehicle wasn't parked where it usually would be, which meant Cyro was doing what he was instructed to do.

Priest made his way to Britain's door, jiggling the doorknob to ensure that it was locked first. Seeing that Britain was no imbecile, and she had locked up after herself, he reached up toward the high lining to the threshold of the door. A few inches to the right at the top of the door was a single key crannied into a small space. Priest retrieved it, using it to unlock the door. Once he got through the locks, he sat the spare key exactly where he found it before entering the apartment and locking it up behind him. Taking a long look around, it satisfied Priest to see that her apartment was empty.

There had to be something in there that could make sense of all this for him before she got home. Priest strode toward her bedroom, trying his best to find something. He searched through her dresser, underneath her bed, her bathroom, closet— nothing. Britain had to have a motive. Everyone who fucked him over always had a motive. Was it money? The satisfaction of seeing him fall for her? WasThe New York Timesbehind this entire ordeal this whole time so they could get the inside scoop on everything? Shit just wasn't adding up, and it was driving Priest fucking crazy. He needed to know his game plan before Britain got there so he wouldn't act too irrationally.

An idea sparked in Priest's head. Retracing his steps back into Britain's bedroom, he attained the small backpack he remembered her carrying around with her when they used to meet up at the diner. He never bothered to ask what was inside the bag since he was sure it contained nothing that could cause harm to him or put his life in danger. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Priest slowly unzipped the bag. Inside, the contents consisted of her journal, pen, and a little black box. Sitting the bag down, Priest gripped the box within his strong hands. Opening it up, he furrowed his brows at the fact that the box only consisted of nine different memory cards that were utilized for her camera storage.

Priest shut the box before zipping the bag back up and sitting it where he found it. Standing up, he concealed the box within his pocket. If there was something he needed to know, he was sure Britain would have a hint hidden on one of those memory cards. She just had to.

Priest made sure to leave her bedroom exactly how she left it before exiting. He took a seat on her couch awaiting her arrival. Retrieving his phone out of the breast pocket of his suit, Priest shot a text over to Cyro.

Priest:Lay off.

That was enough for Cyro to put some distance between his SUV and Britain's Charger, allowing her to drive freely to her apartment. Once she noticed the vehicle was no longer tailgating her, she stuck a middle finger out the window.

Priest sat there in complete silence. He was trying his best to order his thoughts, but Britain had his mind boggled.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Priest could hear the tumblers in the locks interchange. He sat up with his elbows rested on his knees, waiting for Britain to enter.

Britain, whose plan was to avoid Priest for a few hours, felt her soul snatched from her body at the sight of him occupying a space on her couch. She had no idea how he managed to make it to her place so quickly. She instantly regretted his knowledge of knowing where her spare key was concealed. Gulping down some saliva in hopes of clearing her dry and cached throat, Britain eyed him.

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