Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
NAJI
T he night air outside Giselle’s estate was warm, calm, and laced with tension as the four of us—me, Imanio, Dessign, and their father—stood near Imanio’s Maybach. The crickets were chirping like they were paid to narrate the awkward silence that followed Giselle’s meltdown.
My dress was still sticking slightly to my back from the heat of the dining room, or maybe it was just the nerves—I wasn’t sure.
I couldn’t get over how Imanio stood up for me.
The way he held his ground against his mom’s criticisms and embraced his feelings for me was something I had never experienced before.
Every time "my wife," rolled off his tongue, it was filled with sincerity, as if the words were a cherished secret meant only for me.
Imanio wasn’t perfect—he had his flaws, and he was well aware of them—but his unwavering loyalty and the way he showed up when it mattered most meant more to me than I could ever put into words.
His father let out a breath—slow and heavy—his eyes drifting to the stars; not searching for answers but probably trying to remember what peace felt like.
“After this circus tonight? I’m really done performing,” he announced.
Dessign blinked, shifting in her chair with one perfectly arched brow.
“What are you talking about? Done performing like retiring? Or like joining a nunnery? ‘Cause I already got Mama pegged as Mother Superior of Drama.”
That made me chuckle softly, despite the emotional bomb we’d all just escaped.
Their father let out a deep, dry laugh.
“No. I’m divorcing your mother.”
Dessign’s jaw dropped.
"Wait, for real? Like… court papers and freedom type divorce?”
He nodded. “Yeah, baby.”
“Well damn. What finally pushed you? The yelling? The weird obsession with pearls? Or the fact that she ironed the money before putting it in birthday cards?"
Their father chuckled. “She’s exhausting, baby. You know that.” He tilted his grin toward me. “And the way she acted tonight? Unforgivable.”
Imanio put his hand on Dessign’s shoulder gently.
"I’ll fill you in later."
“Cool. Just tell me when to show up for the celebration toast,” she quipped before giving me a wink. “You good, sis? You handled that better than most would’ve. You didn’t even flip a plate.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “On-only because I knew y’all would’ve joined in.”
“Damn right!” Dessign shouted.
Imanio’s father chuckled, then turned to me with a softer expression.
“I realize we didn’t really get a chance to properly meet the other day. Maybe we can try that introduction again sometime... over tea. Imanio mentioned you’re a fan."
“I… I am. And I’d like that.”
He nodded. “Just let Imanio know when you’re available and we’ll set up a date. You two have a good night.”
I nodded. “You too.”
“Aye, Pops? You staying here tonight?” Imanio asked.
“Son, I don’t have five other houses for nothing.”
That was his way of saying, “Hell nah!”
"Goodnight, y’all! And Naji, you look too pretty to just go home and cry your makeup off!" Dessign said, hunching her brows at Imanio with a smirk that screamed 'take the damn hint.'
Then, with all the flair of a Vegas showgirl, she pressed a button on her chair, blasted "Ridin’ Spinners," and her chair lit up like a damn parade float. The rims on Dessign’s chair spun, lights blinked like a rave, and she saluted us both like she just won Miss Wheelchair Universe.
“I hate I got her that damn chair now. She shows the fuck out,” Imanio playfully said then turned to me slowly, his voice low and warm.
“You okay? I didn’t know she invited them. I swear. This wasn’t the plan.”
“It’s… it’s okay. I know.” My voice wavered. “But she hates me… just like I figured she would.”
My shoulder jerked hard, and my fingers tapped anxiously against my ear before the words tumbled out without warning.
“Ha! Ha! Blood racoon! I-I didn’t ask to be-be in this damn movie!”
Imanio just let me have the moment, then he said, “Hell, me neither,” his voice dry and slightly amused. “I didn’t audition for the part, didn’t get a script, didn’t even get a roll to eat.”
Imanio wasn’t the humorous type, so I knew he said that to lift my spirits, and that meant more than he probably realized. I appreciated it… deeply.
I let out a shaky laugh, watery and grateful.
Imanio stepped closer; one hand came up to cradle my cheek, thumb brushing gently just under my eye.
“For real, you don’t need her to want to,” he murmured. “You got me, aight?”
I nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. He studied my face, reading the thoughts I didn’t say aloud.
“Look, Naji,” he started, “don’t let someone like her shake you.
My mama’s been barking for decades; that doesn’t mean she bites.
She’s just loud… real loud. But she ain’t got the kind of power to move you…
not anymore. She doesn’t see you, Naji… just like a lot of these other muthafuckas, but I do, and I have…
since day one of meeting you,” he confessed.
My chest fluttered a little, not from nerves, but from him.
“So are you good now?” he asked.
I stepped in close, my fingers brushing the edge of his collar, eyes rising to meet his.
“I’m okay now.”
Then… I kissed him.
Not a thank-you kiss. Not a soft one either. That one had weigh—heat. There was no hesitation, just hunger. The second our lips touched, it felt like something unspoken finally snapped.
I felt him tense for a second, then melt into it.
Imanio groaned low in his chest, deep and ragged, like he’d been starving for the taste of me.
His hand slid around to grip my neck, firm but tender, while the other dropped to my waist and pulled me flush against him.
His mouth moved over mine like he owned it, like he was staking his claim.
Imanio’s tongue tangled with mine, slow at first, then deeper—messier, wetter—until my breath hitched and my thighs squeezed together without permission.
His fingers gripped me tighter as he groaned into my mouth, a low sound that made my knees wobble.
When he backed me into the side of the car, I felt everything—the hardness pressing against me, the flex of his grip as he palmed my ass through my slacks and the way his body pinned me like he was daring me to move.
My hands slid up his chest, feeling the tightness of his muscles. His teeth grazed my bottom lip before sucking it, slow and filthy, making my head fall back against the cool glass. Then… a tic.
“Don’t you dare bring back the mullet!”
Imanio laughed so hard he bent over slightly, shaking his head.
“Yo… you really just killed the moment with a hair emergency?”
I laughed. “Sorry!”
Imanio pulled me back in, but that time his kiss was softer… slower.
“Dess is right, though. You look too beautiful to let this look go to waste,” he murmured, brushing a curl from my cheek. “I want to take you somewhere.”
“Wh-Where?”
He pulled out his phone, already dialing. “To my yacht. I’ma have a few of my on-call chefs to meet us there. We’re going to have the dinner we were supposed to have… just you and me, though. It’s gonna take us about forty-five minutes to get there. You cool with that?”
I nodded, still breathless from the kiss. My lips tingled, and my body felt like it hadn’t come down yet.
“Yes.”
I couldn’t get over his cologne. It hit me the second he stepped into the hallway—smooth, smoky, dark. It didn’t just smell good… it lingered , like danger dressed in luxury. It was the kind of scent that made a person glance twice, then feel stupid for looking away.
While Imanio spoke on the phone, I couldn’t stop watching him.
The subtle flex of his jaw when he gave directions.
The casual hand in his pocket. The way the other hand held the phone, fingers long, knuckles marked with power.
Imanio looked like he owned the night, his mama’s house, and the whole damn city.
I caught myself nibbling my bottom lip. I didn’t mean to—but my eyes dropped to his chest, the way his shirt hugged his frame.
Imanio didn’t miss it either.
His eyes cut toward me for half a second—sharp, dark, and knowing. Then he smirked; the kind of smirk that said, Yeah, I saw you, and I’m not about to let it slide.
After a brief conversation in low, commanding tones—giving specific instructions about seafood, wine, and making sure the dessert tray was perfect —he leaned in close enough for only me to hear.
“That look in your eyes better be about the food,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with heat. “’Cause if it ain’t, we got a problem.”
“Yup! I’m starving!” I said sharply.
Imanio pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes—his gaze slow, dark, and unreadable.
“For what, though?” He licked his lips.
My lips parted, but nothing came out.
And that silence? That was my answer.
Imanio smirked—barely.
“Thought so.”
Instead of dragging me in the car like my body might’ve wanted, he stepped back, opened the door with one hand, and gave me a look that pinned me right where I stood.
“Get in. You’re not ready for me… not like that… not tonight.”
Imanio’s eyes swept over my body like he could already see how I’d fall apart for him.
“I’m not gonna touch you until I know you can handle all of me. And I don’t just mean the sex; I mean the obsession that comes after… the kind that ruins you for everybody else.”
My breath hitched.
He nodded toward the open door. “Get in, Naji.”
I swallowed hard, then slid into the car.
A few minutes later, we were gliding through the city, leaving Giselle’s drama behind like a bad season finale.
The ride was... easy. The kiss definitely cracked something open between us. We didn’t talk heavy—not about his mom or the chaos we left. Instead, we drifted into other things.
Light things. Comfortable things.
Imanio asked about the music I used to listen to growing up, and I told him about how I’d record over cassette tapes with my own mixes. He said that explained why my playlists were “weirdly fire.”
I laughed, more than I expected to.