Chapter 2 #2
“Me and Braxton will be fine,” Sevyn said calmly, trying to cool the heat rising at the table.
Ariel chuckled, holding her hands up in surrender. “I know y’all will. I’m just saying… men have needs. If you’re always working, who’s gonna take care of his?”
Silence.
Dorian blinked at her like she had lost her damn mind.
Sevyn’s confusion matched her cousin’s as she tried to process what Ariel had just said.
“Sev, get your friend before I do,” Dorian warned, her voice low, her patience wearing thin.
Sevyn inhaled deeply, locking eyes with Ariel. “The needs of Braxton or how I take care of them is none of your business, Ariel. Like I said, me and Braxton are good. That’s all you need to know.”
Ariel nodded quickly, sensing the shift in energy. “I apologize if I overstepped—”
“If?” Dorian cut her off, laughing dryly. “Bitch, you did.” She leaned forward, her dark brown eyes piercing straight through Ariel’s. “And you lucky we in a public place, ‘cause I would’ve slapped the shit out of you for disrespecting her like that.”
Ariel’s breath hitched slightly as she shifted in her seat. “Dorian, chill,” Sevyn said, placing a hand on her cousin’s arm.
“Nah, that shit was green as hell,” Dorian snapped, sipping her drink, her jaw still tight. “Instead of congratulating you, she worried about your nigga.”
Ariel swallowed hard, visibly uncomfortable. Because she knew she was no match for Dorian.
Dorian may have been only 5’2, but she had a reputation—one that came with a long history of putting hands on people who tried her. She had a short fuse, a sharp tongue, and an even sharper right hook. And when it came to Sevyn?
She didn’t play at all. It wasn’t just about family—it was principle.
Dorian had always been the protector, with her smooth brown skin, long natural hair, and a body sculpted by genetics and hours in the gym with Sevyn and Harper.
But what set her apart wasn’t just her beauty— it was her energy.
She carried herself like she had nothing to prove, but everyone knew not to test her.
Ariel, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.
She was preppy, polished, and as bougie as they came. With her smooth caramel complexion, hazel eyes, and long, bouncy curls, she had been born into wealth and wore it proudly. But the difference between her and the women sitting across from her?
Ariel had never worked for anything a day in her life.
She lived off daddy’s money. She loved living off daddy’s money.
And while Sevyn and Dorian had been grinding since they were old enough to stand on their own, Ariel had thrived in her dependence, never having to hustle for the things they had fought for.
That’s why Dorian never fucked with her. And this right here? This exact moment? Was exactly why.
"I'm just gonna go. I have to get back to work anyway," Ariel muttered, grabbing her purse.
Sevyn didn’t stop her.
Truthfully, she didn’t feel like dealing with her right now. Ariel’s comments had thrown her off, and the more she sat with them, the more they rubbed her the wrong way.
"That’s the smartest shit your ass said all day," Dorian quipped, leaning back in her chair with a smirk.
Sevyn shot her a look, silently telling her to chill.
Ariel hesitated for a moment before glancing back at her. "I am really happy for you, Sevyn. Despite what I said."
Sevyn didn’t respond.
She was still trying to process what Ariel had just said—what she had implied.
A moment later, Ariel walked off, and as soon as she was out of sight, it was like the whole room felt lighter.
Dorian exhaled, shaking her head. "You need to watch that bitch. Something about her ass is off." Sevyn didn’t respond right away.
Instead, she focused on the warm plate placed in front of her, the sweet aroma of honey-glazed salmon, creamy mashed potatoes, and roasted Brussels sprouts hitting her nose instantly.
Her stomach growled, and suddenly, whatever irritation lingered from Ariel's words began to fade.
"That’s just Ariel, Dorian," Sevyn said, cutting into her salmon and taking a bite, the burst of flavor making her hum in satisfaction.
Dorian scoffed, grabbing her fork. "Well, Ariel was about to get her ass beat if she didn’t shut the fuck up."
Sevyn let out a chuckle, shaking her head.
Dorian laughed too, the tension between them dissolving just like that.
The rest of lunch went the way it always did—filled with laughter, conversation, and the kind of love only two people who had been through everything together could share.
???
Sevyn walked through the grand entrance of her home, the weight of a long day settling into her bones. The tension that had built up over the past few weeks had finally eased a little, thanks to a much-needed massage she and Dorian indulged in after lunch.
Her celebratory lunch date had gone a little south—thanks to Ariel—but like always, she and her cousin found a way to turn it around, laughter and good energy making the rest of the day worthwhile.
Still, work had been nonstop.
The therapy clinic was picking up more clients by the day, and since she was one of the most recommended cognitive behavioral therapists in Memphis, her schedule was always packed.
But she loved it. Helping people heal, guiding them to a better mental space, giving them a second chance at life—that’s what brought her the most joy.
As she walked deeper into the large home she shared with her boyfriend, Braxton, the sharp click of her Louboutin heels echoed against the marble floors.
The house was quiet.
Braxton had already told her earlier that he’d be working late. The firm had assigned him a high-profile case, one that had him buried in work, determined to clean up the streets of Memphis.
Sevyn was used to it.
Braxton was a powerhouse in the courtroom—a sharp, relentless prosecutor who had built a name for himself putting criminals behind bars. He was respected. Feared. Admired. And as much as his job demanded from him, Sevyn had always been his biggest supporter.
People always asked how they ended up together—how they became such a beautiful, picture-perfect couple.
And Sevyn laughed every time. Because truthfully?
She had no idea herself. Braxton wasn’t her usual type. He was a little too green compared to the men she was used to .
On paper, he was perfect. Top of his class, Ivy League graduate, came from a family of wealth, carried himself with the kind of sophistication that made mothers love him and fathers respect him. He followed the rules. Did everything by the book.
And Sevyn?
She had always been drawn to men who were rough around the edges—men who carried a sense of danger, an untamed thrill that made her feel alive. If it wasn’t for her father playing matchmaker, she probably wouldn’t have looked Braxton’s way.
What started as a forced connection—set up by her father—had slowly turned into something real.
From the moment Braxton laid eyes on Sevyn, he had been in love.
Her beauty had drawn him in instantly. But it was her drive—her ambition, her independence, the way she carried herself—that kept him there.
For Sevyn, it had taken more than his good looks and charm to break down her walls. But over time, the love grew. It deepened.
Now, here they were. Healthy. In love. Thriving.
Sevyn made her way up the grand staircase, ready to wash the day away.
The moment she stepped into the master bedroom, the calming tones of emerald green and black wrapped around her like a warm embrace. She set her purse down, exhaling softly as she moved toward the master bathroom.
A hot bath was exactly what she needed.
The massage earlier had relaxed her muscles, but the tension in her mind still lingered.
That was the hardest part of her job—learning how to leave her clients’ struggles at work. She had mastered it over time, but some cases stuck with her, weighing on her long after she had left the office.
Some stories were just too heavy.
She turned the faucet on, letting the tub fill with steaming water, the rising bubbles glistening under the soft glow of the dimmed lights. This wasn’t just a bath—it was therapy. A ritual. Something that allowed her to release the emotions she had carried throughout the day.
Once the water reached the perfect temperature, she stripped out of her work clothes, her body instantly reacting to the warmth of the steam-filled air.
Sinking into the water, a slow exhale left her lips as the heat wrapped around her, melting away the weight of the day.
She reached for her phone, connecting it to the surround speakers in the bathroom with a few taps. Within seconds, the smooth, sultry voice of Donell Jones poured through the speakers, his soft melodies curling around her like a second layer of warmth.
She leaned back, resting her head against the tub, closing her eyes as the music and hot water pulled her into another world.
A world where she could just be.
The soft press of lips against hers stirred her from her sleep, making her eyes flutter open.
Braxton.
A smile curled on her lips the moment she saw him. The warmth of the bathwater still surrounded her, the steam clinging to the air, making it clear she had drifted off.
"Hey, baby," he murmured, his deep voice smooth as he handed her a glass of wine.
"Hey, love," she greeted back, accepting the glass and taking a slow sip of the rich, expensive red. The sweetness coated her tongue, relaxing her even further. "How was work?"
Braxton let out a slow exhale, running a hand over his neatly trimmed beard as he took a seat on the edge of the tub, sipping his own drink.
"Long," he admitted, his frustration seeping through his tone. "This case is tough to crack, but we’re getting close."
Sevyn studied his face, taking in the tension etched into his features. Even under stress, he was undeniably handsome—smooth brown skin, fresh waves, a perfectly groomed beard, and a solid 6’3 frame that carried itself with effortless power.