Chapter 7 #2
He lifted the phone to his ear, listening, and his whole body changed.
Shoulders squared, warmth gone. The soft-eyed man I’d just teased about rings vanished, replaced by the one who made a room full of killers straighten with a look.
Around us, I saw it happen—laughter died, chairs creaked, even Taiwan’s hand slipped from his bride’s waist as every eye shifted to Lesley.
“Send me the location,” he said. Just that. No more, no less.
He glanced at the screen once more, the mask fully on now, hard and unreadable. The man who danced with me was gone. This was Grim, head of the family, not the man who’d just whispered sweet confessions in my ear.
“I have to go,” he said, voice clipped.
“Go? Now?” My protest slipped out, sharp. “We just got here.”
“Something came up.” He was already stepping back, pulling his hand from me like it burned. “Business that can’t wait.”
“Malice will take you home,” he continued, scanning the room as more men began moving with quiet urgency. “I’ll make this right with you later.”
“Lesley, what’s happening?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.” The dismissal in his tone stung more than it should have. I felt like a child being sent to bed while the adults handled real matters. “Just go home and wait for me.”
He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead—mechanical, distracted—and then he was walking away, Taiwan falling into step beside him. I stood frozen on the dance floor, watching my husband disappear into a world I wasn’t allowed to enter, surrounded by the remnants of our interrupted moment.
“Mrs. Grimson?” Malice appeared beside me, his face carefully blank. “The car is ready.”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice. The fairy tale was over. Cinderella’s carriage had turned back into a pumpkin, and I was left holding the pieces of whatever we’d almost been.
I wanted to pout, but I didn’t because I understood this was his job, but I’d gotten my hopes up and had been let down.
The ride home was silent. Silence thick as fog between Malice and me. He kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, checking on me the way he’d been trained to do, but I stayed turned toward the window, watching the city blur past.
I understood what had happened. I’d seen how quickly the room shifted, how serious faces became when that phone buzzed.
In Lesley’s world, when business called, everything else stopped.
Including wives. Including moments that felt like they might be leading somewhere.
My heart went out to Taiwan’s wife; her day had been ruined.
That was the life I’d signed up for. That was the protection I’d accepted.
But I’d started wanting more than protection. I’d started wanting him. And that was dangerous territory for a woman married to a man whose first priority would always be the empire that he’d protect at all costs.
By the time we pulled into the penthouse garage, I’d already sent the group text:
Me: I miss y’all. Emergency wine night?
Initially, I’d planned to keep this whole marriage situation to myself. But after tonight, after realizing I was developing feelings for a man whose phone would always matter more than my heart, I needed to talk it through. I needed perspective from people who knew me before I became Mrs. Grimson.
Back in the penthouse, I moved through the motions of making space for them. Lit candles on the kitchen island, fluffed the throw pillows on the sectional that no one ever sat on properly. Small rituals helped distract me from the disappointment that still hadn’t let go.
Forty-five minutes later, the elevator dinged, and Yaslynn’s laugh echoed through the living room before she even stepped off.
“Bitch,” Yaslynn announced, stepping through with her arms full of brown paper bags and a bottle of Casamigos tucked under her arm. “Whose penthouse did you break into? This shit is ridiculous.”
Rebecca stepped in behind her, rolling a suitcase, heels in hand. “I just got off a flight, and I need a drink. The fucking airline is refusing to give me more time at home, so I took it. If I get fired, I may need a shot at his daddy.”
This was what I’d forgotten I needed, Yaslynn’s unfiltered commentary and Rebecca’s dry humor cutting through whatever was heavy in the air. Women who showed up when you called, who brought their own chaos and somehow made everything feel lighter just by existing in your space.
“I hate y’all.” I laughed, stepping aside so they could come in. “But thank you for coming.”
Yaslynn dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and spun around to look at me. “Okay, baby, what’s going on? Whose penthouse are we in for real?”
I poured three shots of the Casamigos and handed them out. “Mine.”
“Yours?” Rebecca sat on the couch, tucking her legs under her. “Girl, when did you get penthouse money? Last time we talked, you had a big dinner to work.”
I took a large sip of tequila, feeling the burn as it went down. “I got married. A few weeks ago. To Lesley Grimson.”
The silence was deafening. Both of them stared at me like I’d announced I was joining a circus.
“Lesley Grimson,” Rebecca repeated slowly, setting down her glass. “As in the Grimson family that runs this city?”
“The same Grimson family my mama told me to stay away from?” Yaslynn added, her voice rising.
I nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. “It started as an arrangement. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, saw something I shouldn’t have. Marriage was protection for both of us.”
“But now?” Rebecca pressed, reading my face.
“Now I think I’m catching feelings for a man I barely know.” I gestured around the luxury surrounding us. “Tonight reminded me that no matter how real this feels, his world comes first. It always will.”
Yaslynn leaned forward. “Honey, what have you gotten yourself into?”
Before I could answer, the elevator sounded again. We all turned toward the sound, and I felt my stomach drop when I saw Malice step out.
“Mrs. Grimson,” he said. “Mr. Grimson wants to speak with you.”
He handed me the phone, and I walked over to Lesley’s office, feeling my friends’ eyes burning into my back.
“What Lesley?”
“Is that how you address your husband?”
“It is when my husband acts like he’s not a man of his word. But I digress. Is everything okay?” I asked, genuinely curious despite my irritation.
“It will be. When I make it back, we’re going to talk. When I said I’d make it up to you, I meant that.”
“We’ll see, you—”
“I’m sorry, and I don’t say that often. Go back to your friends. I just needed to get you away from the living room.” The line went dead, and I stared at the phone in irritation.
I left the office even more annoyed than I was before. “Malice, next time he calls, tell him I’m—” I started to go off, but stopped dead in my tracks.
The elevator doors were open, and a steady stream of delivery people moved through my living room like an army of florists.
Two men carried in massive arrangements of red roses, setting them on every available surface.
A woman directed traffic, checking items off a clipboard as more bouquets continued to arrive.
Rebecca and Yaslynn had pressed themselves against the far wall, watching the organized chaos with their mouths hanging open.
“Ma’am, where would you like these?” one of the delivery men asked, holding an arrangement so large it nearly blocked his face.
I stood frozen, watching my penthouse transform before my eyes. Dozens of bouquets were being arranged throughout the space, expensive gift bags appearing on the coffee table and couch where my friends had been sitting just minutes ago.
“Anywhere is fine,” I managed, still trying to process what was happening.
The delivery supervisor approached me with a tablet. “Mrs. Grimson? We need a signature confirming delivery of the premium apology package. Two hundred red rose arrangements, the luxury gift collection, and champagne service.”
I signed the tablet numbly, watching as the last of the arrangements filtered in. Within minutes, they were gone, leaving behind a living room that looked more like a florist shop than my apartment.
“Chanel, Tiffany, Hermès... Colecion, how much money does this man have?” Rebecca asked.
I moved through the sea of flowers, fingers brushing card after card. They all said the same thing.
I’m sorry. – L
“This is insane,” I muttered.
“Insane?” Yaslynn held up a jewelry box she’d already opened. “These are real diamonds. This bracelet probably costs more than my car.”
“Who did you marry again?” Rebecca asked, sinking into the couch between gift bags. “And don’t say it’s complicated. I’m tired of that answer.”
Looking around at the roses, the boxes, the luxury swallowing up my living room, I realized I didn’t have an answer she’d believe. All I knew was I was in deeper than I ever planned to be.
“One day I’ll tell you everything,” I said softly. “But not right now. Just know I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Mrs. Grimson, one more thing.” Malice appeared again, extending a tiny velvet bag.
“Thank you, Malice.” My voice cracked as I took it. All eyes stayed on me while he left, the door clicking shut behind him, the silence pressing in as heavy as the pouch in my palm.
“Open it,” Yaslynn pressed, leaning forward on the edge of her seat. “Don’t keep us waiting.”
With fingers that didn’t feel steady, I loosened the drawstring, tipped the small box into my hand, and flipped it open.
The air left the room. A chocolate diamond caught the light, bold and unapologetic, surrounded by white diamonds that winked like stars. My girls gasped, hands flying to their mouths.
“Jesus Christ,” Rebecca whispered. “That thing is massive.”
“Is that an apology ring,” Yaslynn asked slowly, eyes narrowing, “or your wedding ring?”
For a moment, I just looked at it. Beautiful, rich, deep, decadent. My ring. My nickname carved into the stone itself. He hadn’t just thought of me, he’d thought ahead. Way ahead. Two steps in front of me, like he always was. But what did it all mean?
And then my phone buzzed. I glanced down and froze. A photo filled the screen—his hand, a thick platinum-and-diamond band glinting in the light. He was wearing his.
Heat climbed my throat. I wanted to smile, to cry, to call him and demand he come back right now so we could talk about it. Instead, my throat closed up, and all I could manage was, “It’s both.”
“So, this is normal?”
“This is Lesley. That’s us. One minute we get close, then we pull back. And it’s not just him, it’s me too. It’s our lives.”
“Girl,” Yaslynn said, sinking back into her chair, fanning herself with the velvet bag, “you married a man who sends apology jewelry through his security team, floods your place with two hundred roses, and lives in a penthouse that looks like a damn magazine spread. And you’re telling us you don’t know what any of it means? ”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I said quietly, almost to myself.
“But you lowkey love the most dangerous man in Coupeville,” Rebecca finished for me, her tone somewhere between teasing and dead serious.
I looked down at the ring again, at the way it threw rainbows across the room, lighting up the roses, the boxes, my trembling hands. “Yeah,” I admitted softly. “Exactly.”
“Could be worse, friend,” Yaslynn said, picking up one of the gift bags and peeking inside. “At least your dangerous man has excellent taste and deep pockets.”
Rebecca laughed, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. “Girl, this is like something out of a movie. Evil crime boss falls for the woman who witnessed his dirty work.”
“Except he’s not evil,” I said, surprising myself with how quickly I defended him. “He’s just... complicated.”
“Complicated men who send two hundred roses are the best kind of complicated,” Yaslynn said pragmatically. “Trust me, I’ve dated enough simple broke niggas to know.”
I couldn’t help but scream in laughter at that. “Y’all are ridiculous, but haven’t we all?”
“We’re realistic,” Rebecca corrected. “And we’re your friends, which means we’re going to support you through whatever this is, even if it gives us gray hair worrying about your safety.”
“Let’s take a picture,” I suggested, needing to capture this moment, my two best friends surrounded by evidence of a life none of us could have imagined for me six months ago.
We huddled together on the floor, sitting cross-legged among the roses and gift bags like we were teenagers at a sleepover. I held my phone up toward the mirrored ceiling, angling it to catch all of us and the floral explosion surrounding us.
“Say ‘crime wife,’” Yaslynn called out, making us all dissolve into laughter just as I snapped the photo. I couldn’t wait to speak to him. There was so much to be said.