Page 101 of Kentrell

We rode in silence after that, the faint sound of her sipping and flipping through her phone filling the space between us.

By the time we hit Lake Shore Drive, the traffic had loosened and the buildings started changing. Less hustle. More high-rise.

I turned off at the South Loop exit and pulled into the underground garage of Lakeview Towers, sliding into my reserved spot.

Zoe blinked, looking around.

“You live here?”

“Yeah,” I said simply, killing the engine.

She stepped out with me and looked up, eyes scanning the clean lines of the tower, the doorman stationed at the entrance like a statue, the lake glittering just beyond the row of buildings.

“Damn,” she murmured. “You real lowkey for a man with a view like this.”

I chuckled, pressing the elevator button.

“Don’t need everybody knowing where I lay my head,” I said. “You the first woman I ever brought here.”

My mind instantly went back to last week—Star up here with Oshon, fucking him right on the couch like it was nothing. Even still, I ain’t never personally invited her up. And I damn sure never fucked her in this house. That wasn’t by accident. Some places held meaning, even for a nigga like me.

Her head turned, eyes narrowing. “Don’t lie.”

“I ain’t.”

And I meant that.

I’d entertained women before—hotels, suites, sometimes even one of the ghost properties.

Butthis?

This wasmyspace.

Private.

Untouched.

Until now.

The elevator chimed, and we stepped inside. I pressed the penthouse button, and Zoe glanced up at me with a half-curious, half-suspicious look like she wasn’t sure if she should be impressed or concerned.

The doors closed.

And we went up—fast, smooth, quiet.

Just like everything about this morning.

Just likeher.

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse—no hallway, no doors.

Just hardwood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a panoramic view of the lake that looked like a damn screensaver come to life.

Zoe stepped in ahead of me, quiet at first, her heels clicking softly against the wood. She moved slow, her head turning left and right as she took it all in—the open-concept layout, the black marble countertops, the brushed gold fixtures, the sleek leather sectional facing the wall of windows.

“Wow…” she breathed.

I stayed back, watching her from the threshold.

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