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“Yes,” I say…even though my instincts tell me the real answer might be “no.”

SIX

STORM

Axel’s right about the Universe.

God, the ancestors, fuckingfatehas chosen to bring us back together.

I don’t believe in God or the so-called powers of the Universe. Not really. But I believe in Shae. Always have.

And divine intervention is the only explanation for why I’m here now, hidden in shadows, watching the only woman I’ve ever loved.

Across the foyer, someone laughs, a high-pitched squeal that reminds me of Bambi’s mom, Lucielle De Luca. It’s not her, but could be her carbon copy, and I’m annoyed that the sound takes my attention away from Shae, even if just for a moment.

Shae.

Shae’sright here. In front of me.

She’s even more stunning now than she was eight years ago. My memories, my dreams, don’t do her justice.

She used to wear her hair curly—I rarely saw her with it straightened. Now, her hair slicks back from her face with a middle part, longer pieces framing her beautiful face.

The red dress pours from her body, the fitted corset-style bodice causing her tits to sit high on her chest.

They’re bigger, rounder, but then, all of her is slightly thicker, a bit curvier.

Her hips, the shapely curve of her thigh. I can tell she works out now from the way her muscles flex with every step in the fuck-me heels she wears.

She looks like an African goddess: innately powerful, beautiful, and otherworldly.

Shae Olivya Rivers never left my heart, my soul, and looking at her now—being in her presence now….

Just like that, I’m obsessed, more deeply, inextricably obsessed with her than ever before.

I’ve been sober from Shae for the last few years, at least. But I’m an addict who just got a hit after a long stretch of sobriety. It feelsfuckingeuphoric to consume her.

And that’s a fucking problem.

Riale’s somewhere; Axel’s somewhere. I track her like a bloodhound, sticking to the places where she can’t see me and I can watch her work.

And fuck…is it terrible that I have a semi from how she took down that fuckhead Kenyon Braxton? I could see him flushing purple and sweating from all the way across the ballroom.

Kenyon Braxton is spineless and amoral—not that I haveanyroom to talk after all the shit I’ve done for Lakeland over the last few years.

Things that also make me unworthy of Shae and her goodness.

Oh yeah.That.

“Fuck,” I whisper, stepping further into the shadows as rage, blinding rage, attempts to hijack my brain.

A slim white man steps up to Shae and puts his hand on the small of her back. Who the hell is this motherfucker? Myskin feels too tight; my breath comes out too hard and hot. I’m breaking down and two seconds from committing murder, but then, she steps away.

Good, baby. Because there was about to be a bloodbath on the marble floors.

I try to calm my breathing for several long seconds as I drink her in, but then everything freezes.

Shae looks at me with narrowed eyes, and yep. There I go, wanting to haul her off and turn into a motherfuckin’ caveman.