Page 201 of Kentrell

Because nothing about this was simple anymore.

And the man I thought I was starting to figure out?

The one who kissed me like he wanted forever and held me like he feared breaking me?

Yeah…

He was still hiding whole chapters.

Kentrell didn’t say much after we stepped inside.

Didn’t offer a tour.

Didn’t fill the air with small talk.

He just moved—quiet and intentional—leading me through a long corridor lined with minimalist art in muted tones.

Deep blacks. Creams. Rust.

Every canvas felt deliberate—like each brushstroke had been handpicked to match the mood of the house.

Nothing loud. Nothing desperate for attention.

Wealth that didn’t have a thing to prove.

My heels clicked softly across the dark hardwoods, the sound getting swallowed as we reached the mouth of a double door…

Where the flooring shifted into thick, cream carpet—so plush it slowed my steps.

Kentrell pushed one side open without fanfare.

The motion lights flickered on.

And I froze.

Soft gold light washed over the room… illuminating what had to be the most immaculate bedroom I’d ever stood in.

The master suite stretched wide—warm gray walls cocooning the space.

A king-sized bed sat centered against one side, dressed in crisp white sheets with a dark mohair throw draped low across the foot.

The headboard—leather, tufted, and towering—climbed nearly to the ceiling.

A fireplace crackled low across from the bed, the flames licking at dark stone beneath a mounted flat screen.

Off to the side…

A velvet reading chair sat angled just so beneath a slim brass floor lamp… like someone used it often… like it wasn’t just for decoration.

Beyond that… sliding doors framed in black steel led out to a private terrace.

Snow dusted the patio furniture outside, untouched but beautiful—like it had been waiting for someone to notice how soft and quiet it looked beneath the moonlight.

I turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.

Every corner of this room… every detail…

Subtle. Sophisticated.

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