It’s not that I didn’t want what Creed had. A woman who made you feel like the world could fall apart and you’d still be alright. A woman who saw you, past the blood and the scars and the noise. I wanted that more than I admitted.
But I couldn’t have it.
Not after what I’d done.
Not with the ghosts I carried.
I swirled the liquor in my glass and let the ice clink. “Besides,” I added, “y’all want me to show up with some girl who looks badder than the bride?” I laughed.
“Impossible,” Creed barked seriously.'
“Chill, nigga. I’m just joking. And I’ll be at the wedding solo.”
The truth was, I didn’t trust easy. Not with women. Not with love. Not after what happened with the last one. The only one.
Malia.
She’d been everything once. And then she’d become a lesson.
A bloody, permanent one.
Now? Now I kept women where they belonged—in my bed, on their knees, and out of my business. They didn’t get keys. They didn’t meet Mama. They didn’t see the real me.
Only Creed and Tessa knew him.
And even they only saw the edited version.
Rollo refilled our glasses and passed the bottle. “Well, you might change your tune tonight. Irina’s party? Full of bad bitches. The city’s finest. Maybe you’ll find a diamond.”
I grinned and knocked my glass against his. “Or maybe I’ll find a good distraction.”
But deep down?
There was only one woman who’d been haunting me lately.
And she wasn’t showing up to no party.
She was locked away like a secret.
A secret I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Chapter 11
ALLURE
The clink of dishes in the sink was rhythmic, almost hypnotic. Scrub, rinse, place. Scrub, rinse, place. Like if I kept moving, I wouldn’t hear the pounding of my heart. Like if I stayed focused on the suds, I wouldn’t think about the risk I was about to take.
My hands were trembling. The hijab still covered my head, my robe still clung to my body—but beneath it all, my skin buzzed with the need to be free of it. To shed the layers he made me wear and finally step into something that was mine.
She’d arrived less than an hour ago, all smiles and Chanel perfume, telling Avi she was just dropping by to check on him. Concerned daughter, blah blah blah. Said she wanted to toast her birthday with her big brother and share a quick glass of wine before she headed to The Gilded Cage.
What Avi didn’t know was that his birthday pour was laced with crushed sleeping pills Irina had slipped into the cabernet with a grace only a girl raised on lies could master.
I watched the whole thing from the kitchen doorway. Watched his arrogance melt into confusion. His limbs growheavy. His words slur. He’d stumbled into the living room, trying to flex, trying to fight it—then collapsed on the velvet couch like a dying bear.
He was out cold.
Irina appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later, her heels clicking across the marble like a countdown clock.