Nyce Sunday | 745pm
Nyce
I closed my eyes for a second and pinched the bridge of my nose. Something about Princess Montgomery wore on my patience. Not because she yelled or caused chaos, but because of her soft defiance, the unshakable backbone she carried like armor. Even now, in her position, she looked at me unafraid.
Her eyes locked on the phone I’d set down. She glanced at me. “I can make calls now?”
“One,” I said, tugging on my goatee. “On speaker.”
“To my father?”
I gave her one nod, sitting on one of the recliners beside her. “Yeah.”
She didn’t move right away. She sat stiff, fingers twitching as she weighed her options. She hated the idea, but needed it anyway. I picked up the phone and handed it to her. She took it like it might bite her. Then she started dialing. It rang twice before Zeke answered, already mid-rant.
“I fucking told you...”
“Daddy… it’s me,” she cut in.
His voice switched quickly. “Princess? Where are you?”
“Where do you think?” she snapped. “When will you pay him?”
There was a pause. Then a long, low sigh. “I’m handling it.”
Princess laughed, bitter and hollow. “Handling it? You never should’ve gotten involved. Did you think it wouldn’t blow up in your face?” I sat back on the couch, watching as her hard shell began to crack. Her voice shook, but she still held her ground.
“You listen to me,” Zeke snapped. “That low life...”
I leaned forward, calm but direct. “Watch your mouth, preach.”
She looked at me, surprised I’d stepped in. I didn’t care. Zeke needed to be reminded who the fuck he was talking to. He cleared his throat, trying to gather himself. “Princess, I swear to you, you’ll be home soon. I...”
“I don’t want to go back,” she said, cutting him off. “I just want to be anywhere but here.”
“You need to come home. Don is still expecting you to be his wife and...”
“I’m not marrying that man,” Princess snapped, voice harder now. “You chose him. You arranged that marriage to cover your dirty secrets with a polished image and a damn ring.” Her hands were gripping the phone tightly like she wanted to crush it. Her whole body was shaking.
“Princess, listen to me,” Zeke barked. “I’m getting you back.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “Not without my money, you’re not.”
“You’ll have it,” he bit out.
I chuckled. “We’ll see, Preach.”
Princess sat there, breath coming jagged, chest rising like it cost her everything not to cry. She said, “Bye, Daddy,” forcing each syllable out before ending the call. The silence after pounded heavily in the room. She set the phone down without meeting my eyes. “Happy now?”
I tilted my head, reaching for it. “You’re mad at the wrong person.”
She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Oh, trust me. I’ve got enough anger for both of you.”
I stood, about to leave, but I paused. She looked like she was hanging on by a thread with her arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes still wet but refusing to cry. “You wanna watch a movie or something?” I asked.
She blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Something to get your mind off pacing around that damn room, plotting an escape that’ll never happen.”
“Well, excuse me for feeling like a hostage and not knowing I could watch TV,” she snapped.
I smirked. “Aight, miss toughness.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So what, I’m just supposed to chill like I’m some guest in your mansion prison?”
I shrugged. “You could relax. It’s not like you got anywhere to be.”
She clenched her jaw, but after a second, she muttered, “Fine but don’t think for a second that I’m comfortable.”
I chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.” She grabbed the remote and started flipping through the movie categories. I didn’t say anything, just watched her. She stopped on a classic, B.A.P.S and I let out a quiet laugh. “This is the shit you’re into?” I asked.
“It’s a classic,” she said without looking at me.
I leaned in a little. “I feel you. Just expected you to pick something different.” She glanced sideways but didn’t respond. I looked back at her from the screen and slid my hands into my pockets. “You work?”
She tensed a little. “At the church.”
Of course she did. “Doing what?”
“Events. Fundraisers.”
“So you make the flyers for bake sales and Sunday brunch? Shit like that?”
She cut me a sharp look. “Weddings. Outreach. Real shit.”
“You like it?”
She hesitated. “I’m good at it.”
“That’s not what I asked.” She didn’t answer. She turned back to the TV like she was done talking. I let it sit. “Aight, miss toughness. I’ll back off,” I said, stretching my arms. “You good here? I’m ‘bout to go pick up some food. Chef had to dip.”
Her head snapped around. “You’re leaving?”
“What? You want me to stay and keep you company now?”
“Not even close.”
I smirked. “Mhm. Sit tight and remember, there’s eyes all around you.”
Princess didn’t respond, just kept her eyes on the screen like I wasn’t still watching her. I left her with her movie, her silence, and the shit she didn’t want to admit was bothering her.
On my way out, I told Crook to keep an eye on her but give her space. She needed time to sit with what was real. She’d hate me for a while. But eventually? She’d understand exactly why she was safer with me.