Chapter 8 Nyce - Saturday | 615pm
Nyce
The bedroom I’d chosen for Princess was truly fit for royalty.
It had been about an hour since Princess arrived, and I knew she hadn’t stopped pacing yet. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and quietly shut it behind me. Princess stopped moving and turned to face me with her posture tense, waiting for my next move.
Her eyes fixed on me, not with fear, but with an angry glare. She looked pissed the fuck off. “I assume this is the part where you have your way with me?” she said, all smart mouth and shit. I smirked but didn’t say shit. I just watched her.
Fuck.
Princess was the definition of beauty, and not that dolled-up, makeup type of beauty.
I’m talking flawless, raw beauty. It was the kind that made niggas lose their minds.
The kind that had men writing checks they couldn’t cash just to stand next to her.
The kind that made preachers lie straight through the pulpit and politicians propose just to say they had her.
Her honey colored skin was smooth and soft-looking.
And those big ass glasses sat on her face, exposing her oval-shaped brown eyes.
She had the type of lips women paid for, but I knew hers were natural, just like her curves.
Princess was petite, but her body was everything.
She had little moles on her face and lashes like fans. Goddamn. She was pressure.
But above all of that, it was her intense stare.
She had the kind of gaze that made you pause, like she was already reading you.
And that only made her little defiant ass finer.
Yeah, she was bad, but I couldn’t get caught up in all that.
This shit was business, and I never played when it came to business.
“You already know why you’re here, Princess,” I said finally. “I don’t want your body. I want my money.”
She rolled her eyes, arms folding across that tight little waist. “So I’ve heard, Mr. Kidnapper.”
I laughed, just once. “We’ve already established that I didn’t kidnap you. I collected you.”
“Wow. That makes it so much better.”
I walked over to the couch near the windows and sat down, making sure Princess could see me. I glanced at her, then asked, “Would you rather be with your loving fiancé right now?”
She didn’t answer right away. That hesitation told me everything I needed to know. “I’d rather not be in the middle of two men trying to prove a point,” she muttered.
I took a seat and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Too late for that.”
Princess squared her shoulders. “So what now?”
“Now?” I nodded toward the bed. “You settle in.”
“Settle in?” She blinked. “You want me to get comfortable in a place I’m being held hostage?”
“It’s not that bad. Take a look around.”
She scoffed. “You’re insane.”
I smiled wider. “You’ll get used to it.”
Her mouth tightened. “If you think I’m gonna sit here and play the role of some obedient little captive, you got me fucked up.”
There it was… the fire behind the preacher’s daughter. I liked that. I stood and moved toward her, keeping my gaze locked. She stood firm, though I saw her chest quicken. When I stopped, I could feel the heat radiating from her skin. She smelled of warm honey and vanilla.
I looked straight into her eyes. “I know exactly what kind of woman you are, Princess.” Her lips parted, but she didn’t say a word.
I didn’t need her ass to. I let it sit and then stepped back like I hadn’t just pressed the heat of my presence all over her.
“Food’s being prepared and clothes are on the way.
In the meantime, feel free to change out of the gown and throw on the robe in the ensuite bathroom while you wait. ”
She opened her mouth again, voice full of venom. “You’re an arrogant bastard, you know that?”
I chuckled on the way out. “You’ll get used to that, too.” The door clicked shut behind me, and I stood there a second, hands in my pockets. She was going to be fucking problem.
Crook was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with his arms folded and his back against the wall. He was always ready and always on point. He’d been my nigga since we worked the corner together trying to come up.
“She’ll need clothes. Maybe a four. Shoes, seven. B cup, small panties.”
“Ain’t nothing small about that ass,” he snorted, and I shot him a look.
“Something comfortable, not flashy,” I continued. “And tell one of your girls to grab anything else a woman like her might need to stay put up for a couple days.”
He gave a short nod, already planning his first stop. “Food?”
“Yeah. Tell Chef to plate something up.” He nodded, dapped me up, then headed out. I made my way up the stairs, phone buzzing.
I let it ring twice, then answered. “About damn time.”
“You done made a big mistake, boy.” Zeke’s voice was all tight and shit.
I smiled and dropped into my chair, feet going up on the desk. “Did I? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, looks like you’re the one who fucked up.”
He didn’t say anything, but I could hear him breathing. Shit was heavy as hell. “You took my daughter, Nyce. You’ve gone too far. Her fiancé is...”
“Fuck that nigga,” I cut in, smooth. “I can’t even believe you’d sell her off like she’s some damn prize goat. Yeah, I know all about the arrangement.”
“You don’t know shit, so watch your fucking mouth.”
I smirked. “Or what, preach?”
“I don’t have time for games, Nyce,” he snapped, trying to sound like the man in charge again. “Put her back where you found her, and we’ll settle this like men.”
I laughed, full and sharp. “Like men? You mean like the man who took two and a half M’s from me and been ghosting on payments like I’m some weak-ass loan shark?”
“I was handling it.”
“Sure you were.” After a pause, I lowered my voice. “You owe me two and a half mil. You don’t get to stall with me.”
“You think taking Princess is gonna scare me into paying you?”
“Nah,” I said. “I think it’s gonna remind you what real fear feels like.”
That shut his ass up. I could hear the way he was gripping that phone. I could almost hear his teeth grinding. “If you hurt my daughter,” he said slowly, “I will make sure you regret it.”
“You don’t make the threats, preach. I do. You have seventy-two hours. I want my muthafucking money or Princess and I will discuss other payment options.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. I hung up and sat back, reaching for the blunt I didn’t finish smoking earlier. This shit wasn’t personal. It was business. But damn if the girl upstairs wasn’t making it a little more interesting than I planned.