Page 72 of Sweetest Temptation
I was escorted out of the interrogation room and sent on my way as if they didn’t strong-arm me to come to this bitch in the first place. As soon as I stepped into the waiting area, I spotted Yohan posted up near the entrance, phone to his ear, grinning and shit. Whoever was on the other end had this man showing all thirty-two. Typical Yohan shit. Always finessing the bitches. This nigga had on a Brioni suit with his dreads pulled back.
That’s just him, though—always sharp, always looking unbothered. In all the years I’ve known Yohan, the only time I’ve seen that nigga dressed down was back when we were knee-deep in the streets. He was a hood nigga to the core, but now, he runs the courtroom the same way he used to run the blocks—ruthlessly. The man didn’t give a fuck who was in his way.
“Lemme call yuh back, love,” he said into the phone, voice low and smooth. “Yeah, mi a swing by after mi handle dis likkle business. Mek sure dat body ready fi mi, yuh hear?” He chuckled, flashing that same grin before hanging up.
He gave me a nod toward the door, meaning to keep quiet till we were outside. We stepped out onto the sidewalk, cold air hitting my face. I started breaking down the situation, but he cut me off halfway.
“Mi already know, man. Jamila tell mi everyting,” he said, his Jamaican accent heavy. “So what’s de move? You know I can handle this before sunrise,” he said, voice dropping lower, that dangerous edge sliding through his accent. Yohan was always ready to wreck some shit.
“Nah, I want to handle this one personally. Paige thinks this shit a game. I know I can’t touch her right now… That’d have them pigs on me quick. But I’ma let her think shit sweet before I handle her ass.”
“Cool,” he said, smirking. “Mi like how yuh think. Just lemme know if yuh need mi fi clean up after. Yuh need a ride to di crib?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“You sure, bredren?” His tone had that half-joking concern, like he already knew I was about to do something reckless.
“Yeah. I’m straight. Got some shit to handle. I’ll hit you later.” I dapped him up.
“Aight,” he said, then snapped his fingers like he’d just remembered something. “Oh yeah, mi almost forget.” He reached into his briefcase, pulled out a small paper bag, andtossed it to me. “Mi bring yuh dis. Figure yuh gon’ need it after all dat fuckery.”
I opened the bag, and the rich poutine smell hit me first, damn near making my stomach growl. Sitting on top were a couple of rollups and what I’d told Jamila to have him bring me, and I couldn’t help but smirk.
“You a real one for this,” I said, pocketing the weed. I damn sure needed it.
“Always got yuh, mi genna,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder before heading toward his black Benz.
I watched him pull off before I pulled out my phone, powered it up, and ordered a Lyft. My destination was already set. Three minutes later, a Toyota RAV4 rolled up to the curb. I climbed in, sinking back into the seat as the city lights passed in a blur. Thirty minutes—maybe a little more—and we were pulling up to the tall high-rise.
When I stepped out, I walked into the building, gave a nod to the concierge, and made a beeline for the elevator. My reflection in the mirrored doors looked tired as hell, but I wasn’t turning back now.
Once I hit her floor, I pulled the spare key from my pocket, the metal cold against my hand. I’d gotten the key through Yohan. I had him call one of his locksmith connects to make me a copy. Zanova wasn’t answering my calls, so I did what I had to do.
Entering her spot, the place was dark. I knew she was home because the light over her stove was on. She never leaves it on when she goes out. I kicked off my shoes at the door, the weight of the day sitting heavy on my shoulders. My first stop was the guest room. I needed to rinse off the bullshit from the station, from Paige, from everything. The hot water hit my skin hard, steam filling the small bathroom as I ran a hand down my face, trying to wash away the anger sitting behind my eyes.
After handling my hygiene, I wrapped a towel around my waist and stepped out onto the balcony. The night air was wet and warm, almost as if it was going to rain soon. I lit one up and took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling into the skyline.
Damn, I needed that.
Now it was time to wake up Sleeping Beauty.
The room was dark, except for the soft glow from the moonlight outside, peeking through my window. I was dead asleep when something pulled me out of my deep slumber. A faint scent wrapped around me, familiar and warm like crisp cedar, cool mint, and a hint of citrus.
My eyes fluttered open, confused. That couldn’t be right. I hadn’t been around Samir in days. Still half-asleep, I turned over, burying my face in my pillow, but the smell only got stronger. My heart started to thump harder, a slow, uneasy rhythm. Then, I felt it. That quiet, heavy awareness that someone else was in the room. The air shifted, and the tiny hairs on my neck stood up.
Slowly, I opened my eyes again, and that’s when I saw a tall shadow standing over me. I shot upright with a sharp gasp, clutching the blanket to my chest. My breath caught when the dim light hit his face.
Samir had been blowing up my phone for the past few days with calls, texts, and voice notes that I refused to open. But no matter how much I told myself to be done with him, I couldn’t bring myself to block him. Every time his name flashed across my screen, my chest tightened like it was trying to remind me of what I was missing.
Part of me wanted to ignore him for good, erase every trace of him, and move on like he never existed. But that soft, stupid part of me still wanted to hear his voice and to believe that maybe there was something left to fix.
“Samir?” My voice cracked in disbelief.
He just stood there, a towel hanging low around his waist, looking like a Greek God. My mind scrambled to make sense of it. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
“How the hell did you get in my house?” I demanded, my voice trembling even though I tried to sound firm.
His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but his voice came out low and rough. “Don’t worry about all that.”
