Nyce Sunday | 902pm
Nyce
As Belvin drove the truck back through the gates, I checked the cameras to see Crook staying on his job while Jermaine was out handling some other shit for me. Princess remained in the theatre laughing and shit as she watched the movie.
I couldn’t help but become a little addicted to watching her. She seemed relaxed, and those leggings and cropped hoodie on her smooth skin were enough to keep me locked in until the SUV came to a complete stop.
“Anything else you need before I take off for the night?” Belvin asked as we locked eyes through the rearview mirror.
“Nah. Tell the Mrs. I said what’s up,” I told him, gathering up the bags of food. I went and grabbed something solid: honey jerk salmon, mac and cheese, salad, and buttered rolls. Princess had better be with it because I wasn’t going to play restaurant roulette to cater to her ass.
I climbed out of the back seat, said what’s up to the guards standing outside, and made my way inside. I headed for the kitchen to see Crook breaking down some weed to roll. “She’s still in the theatre?” I asked, even though I already knew she was.
He let out a little smirk. “Yup. Feet up, talking to the screen like she’s part of the damn cast and shit.”
I snorted, couldn’t help the grin pulling at my lips. As I pulled out the food containers, my phone rang.
“What’s up?” I answered.
It was Swank, the one holding down my gambling den that sat underground in a barbershop.
It was the type of spot with ESPN on the TV, shit-talking, and music playing in the background like usual.
But downstairs was a whole different type of world.
“Numbers solid,” he updated me. “Payouts handled. Nobody’s acting up. ”
“Keep it that way,” I said. “Somebody start winning too much, remind ‘em we don’t do fairytales around this muthafucka.”
He laughed softly under his breath. “Copy that.”
I ended the call, slid the phone in my pocket, and glanced at Crook. “Make a plate.”
He pushed off the counter and grinned, resting his rolled blunt on the tray. “Say less.”
I left the kitchen and made my way down the hall toward the theatre.
I didn’t hear the TV anymore, which either meant Princess fell asleep or she was stewing in silence.
I walked in, and sure enough, she was curled up on the couch, arms folded, eyes locked on the blank screen like it personally offended her.
“Dinner’s here,” I said.
She looked over at me but didn’t move. She just stared, like she was trying to decide if it was worth entertaining anything I had to offer.
Then she finally got up, smoothing her hands over her thighs as she walked past me.
Of course, I watched her walk as I followed behind her.
She stepped into the kitchen and looked around. Crook was now gone.
Turning to look at me, Princess asked, “What is it?”
“Salmon, mac and cheese, salad, and rolls.”
“You didn’t spit in it, did you?”
I smirked. “Fuck you think I’m on?”
She grabbed a plate and started fixing it. “Just had to ask.”
In silence, I pulled out plates and forks, and then we both piled food. I nodded towards the dining room, and she followed behind me. Once there, she took a seat and started eating like she was craving everything on the plate.
Moving over to the bar, I poured up a drink, chuckling. “Damn. Slow down.”
“Leave me alone.”
Raising my hands in fake defense, I asked, “You want water or something different?”
“Water is fine.” Soon enough, the silence was thick between us, only broken by the sound of forks scraping. Then, Princess finally spoke again without looking at me. “So what’s your deal?”
I looked up. “My deal?”
“Yeah,” she replied, meeting my eyes. “What kind of… gangsta… kidnaps women but also treats them like… a human?”
“The kind that respects women until they give me a reason not to.” Taking a sip of my drink, I noticed her eyebrow raise.
“Oh. So you’re… thoughtful?”
I leaned back in the chair. “Ain’t never said I was heartless. I’m just not a soft ass nigga.”
She nodded like she was processing that. “You got kids?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I smirked. “Because I don’t trust most people enough to bring life into this world with ’em.”
She went quiet for a second, then asked, “You got family?”
“Don’t most people?”
She nodded again. “Is it just your grandmother? You take care of her, right?”
I raised my brow this time and paused for a moment before digging back into my food. I washed it down with a few sips of my drink and asked, “You analyzing me now?”
Princess shrugged. “Just trying to figure out who the hell Nyce is.”
“And what’s your read so far?”
She looked me straight in the eye. “You’re dangerous, but you’re not careless. You’re thoughtful, but you also don’t give a fuck. You treat people like they're disposable, maybe because you don’t really value those around you. And there’s a big reason for that.”
That made me pause for a few moments as I drank, watching her watch me. “And what about you, Princess Montgomery?” I watched her take another bite, chewing slowly like she didn’t want to give me too much. She was engaged, though.
“What about me?”
I sat back, my hand resting on the chair's back. “You love hard or logical?”
Her brows lifted slightly. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a simple question,” I said. “When you fall… you fall off emotion, or off what makes sense on paper?”
She didn’t answer right away. She just stared, like she was trying to decide if I was asking to use it against her later. She finally set her fork down. “I think I used to lead with emotion,” she said slowly. “Now? I lead with what protects me.”
I nodded. “So you guard your peace?”
“Every day I try to.”
I leaned forward slightly. “That means it got violated before. Who broke it? A fuck nigga?”
She hesitated. “You’re asking me about exes now?”
“I’m asking about origin stories. The shit that makes you who you are.”
She exhaled through her nose. “A little of everything. Family. Men. Myself, too.”
I watched her closely. “You take accountability.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“That’s rare.”
She tilted her head. “Are you profiling me?”
“I’m reading you,” I said. “And you let me.”
Her lips twitched, like she wanted to smile but wouldn’t let herself. “What else do you wanna know?”
I smirked. “You ever feel seen by anybody?”
She blinked, surprised again. Then sat back in her seat, eyes narrowing just a little. “Seen how?”
“Seen for who you are when the church doors close, when the makeup’s off, and when that guard’s not up.”
She looked at me like I hit a nerve she wasn’t ready to name, then she said, “Once.”
I kept my gaze on her. “And?”
“He let me down.”
I nodded slowly. “That pain doesn’t fade, huh? It just hides.”
She stared at me for a long beat. “You talk like somebody who’s been through some shit.”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
She didn’t ask what. She just picked up her fork again and started pushing salad around on her plate. “Why are we talking about all of this, Nyce?”
“‘Cause I’m tryna understand what kind of woman I’m dealing with.
And more importantly…” I paused. “What kind of woman I really collected. You know, outside of being the preacher’s daughter.
” Princess glanced up quickly, caught the weight of what I said, and immediately looked away like it rattled her a little.
“You got siblings?” I asked, switching lanes.
She shook her head. “Nope. Just me.”
“Tough.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is.”
I could feel it then. Her loneliness. I let the silence sit for a minute. She needed that moment. Then, I sipped from my glass again. “Aight, so now I gotta ask…” I said, casual as hell, but looking dead at her. “How the fuck you end up linked up with this nigga Don?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Like… outta all the niggas in the world, that’s who your father planned to marry you off to?
A forty-something, build-a-scandal-ass nigga?
” She gave me a look but didn’t speak yet.
Just tilted her head and crossed her arms like she was trying to decide if I was serious or trying to play her.
I was deadass. “I mean, damn,” I said. “You really like ‘em washed up, huh?”
She scoffed. “Wow. That’s cute.”
“You like older, lame ass niggas because it feels safe?”
Princess rolled her eyes as she reached for her water and took a few sips. I caught that twitch in her lip like she was fighting a smirk. “You really have no filter, do you?”
“Not when I’m tryna understand a pretty woman who’s way too sharp to be playing house with a corrupt civil servant in orthopedic shoes.”
She looked at me for a long time, then shook her head and sighed. “It wasn’t about love,” she finally said. “It was about control.”
“Yours or his?”
“My father’s,” she admitted.
I tapped my knuckle against the table, slowly. “So he sold you off like muthafuckas did back in the day?”
“Pretty much.”
“And you went along with it?”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” she said. “And before you get all judgmental…”
“I’m not judging you, Princess,” I said, cutting her off. “I’m just tryna get the blueprint to shit.”
She looked at me again, eyes a little softer now, more curious than defensive. “I don’t love him,” she said. “Never even wanted to marry him. But it was better than going to war with my father… or so I thought.”
“And now?”
“Now I’d rather burn it all down than play pretend again.”
I watched her for another second, then I shifted the question where it had been sitting the whole time. “And your father?”
“What about him?” she asked, tone flat.
I leaned forward slightly. “You love him or fear him?”
That got her attention. “Those aren’t supposed to be the same thing.”
“They usually are,” I said. “In families like yours.”
She didn’t answer right away. She picked up her fork, took a bite she didn’t need, then set it back down. “I love the version of him he used to be. Or maybe the version of him I used to think he was.”
“And the real one?”
Her jaw tightened. “The real one is always negotiating.”
I nodded. “So nothing with him is free.”
“Not affection. Not protection. Not even silence,” she said. “Everything comes with terms.”
“That’s why you don’t trust easily,” I said.
She glanced at me. “You think you know me now?”
“I think I know where the cracks came from,” I said. “A man who only shows up when it benefits him will teach his kids how to disappear emotionally.”
Her throat bobbed when she swallowed. “He calls it leadership,” she said. “Sacrifice. God’s will. But it always somehow costs me more than it costs him.”
“And when you don’t comply?”
She let out a quiet laugh. “Then I’m ungrateful. Difficult. Disobedient.”
“Dangerous words to put on a woman,” I said.
Her eyes stayed on mine this time. “Especially when she starts thinking for herself.”
I tilted my head. “You ever stand up to him?”
“I was getting ready to,” she said without hesitation. “And then… I ended up here.”
I watched her closely. “I’ve met his type,” I said. “Niggas who hide behind titles so nobody looks too close and see they really ain’t shit.”
Princess studied me for a long moment. “So what does that make you?”
“A nigga who sees it all and moves accordingly.” I finished off my drink, stood up, and walked over to pour another. Silence sat heavy after that. Turning, I held her gaze. “Let me be clear about something, Princess Montgomery.”
She looked up. “And what’s that?”
“I don’t move like your father. I don’t trade people, and I don’t confuse control with care.”
Her eyes searched my face, cautious but curious. “And yet,” she said quietly, “I’m still in your house and can’t leave.”
I stood still for a second, just looking at her.
Then I gulped down the rest of my drink, the burn trailing down my throat like it was trying to calm the heat building in my chest. I didn’t speak right away as I walked slowly from the bar toward her.
Princess’ breath hitched as I got close enough for her knees to buckle.
I leaned in low, eyes right on hers, voice calm but sharp enough to slice through the tension.
“If you wanna go, Princess… then go,” I murmured, inches from her mouth. She didn’t move. “Go ‘head,” I kept on, voice like a dare now. “Run back to daddy and all his bullshit. Let him pull your strings like he’s been doing your whole fucking life. Let him use you up again.”
Her jaw clenched.
“Go let that fake ass nigga Don hold you up like a trophy he bought at an auction,” I said, venom in my tone now. “And watch me blow both of their fucking heads off.”
She flinched, eyes glistening.
“Go ‘head, preacher’s daughter. Leave this house. Leave me.”
She stared up at me like she wanted to fight me with tears pooling in her eyes and her lip trembling. And fuck, I kissed her. I snatched the back of her head like I needed it, mouth crashing into hers like I was starving for some shit I had no business wanting.
Princess’s lips were warm, soft as she moaned into my mouth.
That shit sent a jolt down my spine, but I caught myself.
I pulled back fast, breathing heavy, eyes wide as hell.
I pushed her back into the chair, and before I could get a word out, she slapped the fire out of me. Then the gunshots rang out.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
The rounds slammed into the bulletproof windows, cracking them with violent spiderwebs instead of shattering. Princess screamed, ducking. I was already in go mode, adrenaline shooting through me.
Crook came running. “Shooters outside! Four, maybe five!”
“Light their asses up.” He headed straight for the gun closet, and I grabbed Princess’s wrist. “Let’s go.”
She stumbled, panicked. “What the hell is happening?!” It sounded like warfare outside as we moved fast. I shoved open a hidden panel behind the bookshelf in the living room to reveal stairs. She yanked away. “I’m not going down there!”
“Princess…”
“No!” Fuck that arguing shit. I just scooped her little ass up and threw her over my shoulder. “Put me down!”
“Shut up and let me do what the fuck I do!” She kicked and fought, but I didn’t slow down.
I kept running down the stairs and through the tunnel as she kept fighting me while screaming her head off.
I stopped, pressed her back against the wall, and had my hand on her chin.
“If you say another fucking word…” She froze, breathing heavy with her eyes wide and locked on mine. I let her go. “We’re almost there.”
I took her hand, and we kept moving as gunfire still echoed above. Whatever was happening up there, somebody wanted me dead or wanted Princess gone. Either way, I’d find out. And when I did, somebody would pay in blood.