Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
IMANIO “GATEZ”
I sat at the island in a pair of black joggers and a gray fitted tee, flipping through a printout of building permits while eating a slice of toast. My legs ached a little. I wasn’t sore, but the memory of why I didn’t get much sleep the night before kept pulling smirks out of me.
Naji didn’t say a word to me as she left the room; she just grunted under her breath and shuffled forward like she was mad at the floor for existing.
I watched her waddle down the hall—hips stiff, legs damn near trembling.
Her outbursts were loud, chaotic, and echoing off the hallway walls.
I couldn’t make out half of what she said, but the frustration in her voice was clear as day.
I smirked and shook my head, damn near laughing out loud.
The silence in the house now? Golden. Brief. Clean. Quiet.
I earned it.
Then, of course, somebody couldn’t let me be great— my phone rang. I didn’t need to guess who it was. There was only one person on my roster who had the nerve to call at seven o’clock, before my day even officially started— Saroya. And I already knew it was about what happened the day before.
I took a sip of coffee, hit the green button, and put her on speaker.
Saroya’s voice came tearing through the speaker like a siren on fire.
“Imanio Kors, you let your wife get accosted in a damn coffee shop and didn’t tell me?!”
I chuckled, teasing. “Good morning, Saroya.”
“Oh, no! This is anything but a good morning!” she quipped.
“Did you hear what I said?! Let me remind you who I am! I’m your publicist !
You know, the woman whose job it is to protect your image?
! Granted, I knew you were married, but you’re not married to just anybody Imanio Kors; you’re married to Naji Ali , a viral moment waiting to happen , and a very important detail you failed to tell me! ”
I sat up straighter. “Calm down… it’s not that deep.”
“ Calm down?! ” she repeated, clearly ready to swing. “It’s viral , Imanio! Multiple people recognized her! There are clear photos! I’m getting tagged in every damn thread from here to hell asking if you’re married to her ! So is it true?!”
I rubbed my face and exhaled. “Yeah. It’s true.”
There was a long pause. Then, “Oh, we definitely need to talk!” she said, her voice picking back up. “And not over the phone! I want a full sit-down—face to face! No middlemen! No assistants! At your house… where your wife stays!”
I narrowed my eyes. “You know I don’t do meetings where I lay my head.”
“Well, you’re gonna start… or at least make an exception this once!” she snapped. “You want me to fix this? Then trust the woman you hired to handle it! Now text me the address!”
I smirked, leaning back in the chair. “Damn. You’re real snappy this morning. Yo’ husband must didn’t give you no dick last night?”
Maybe that’s why everything felt funny to me that morning—‘cause I finally got some after weeks of being on edge.
“Imanio…” Saroya said, pure warning in her tone.
I sighed and gave in. “Check yo’ phone. I’m about to send it.”
There was silence on her end as she received the text.
“Got it. I’ll see you in thirty.” Then she added, “Oh—and it would be best if your wife joins us. I think it’s time I meet her, anyway.”
I hesitated then replied, “Aight. But before you show up… there’s something you need to know.”
I stood up, pacing a little now.
“Naji has Tourette Syndrome. Which means she has tics—and sometimes they can get bad… especially around new people. So be prepared for her to say some wild shit. It’s not personal, and it damn sure ain’t performative.
Just don’t jump, stare too long, or try to correct her. She doesn’t need pity or confusion.”
Saroya’s voice came back, calm and clipped.
“I know a little about her background already, so I’m familiar with her condition. I just didn’t know she was your wife. And for the record—I’m not one of those people who needs a warning to show basic human decency.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.
“Aight. See you soon.”
Click.
Now came the part I didn’t feel like doing—delivering the news to Naji.
She was upstairs soaking, probably humming or talking back to her own thoughts.
And there I was, about to walk in and ruin her peace.
Saroya was on her way over, and Naji had to know.
It wasn’t the kind of thing I could sneak by her.
Still, there was no easy way to interrupt a woman’s bath…
but that’s exactly what I was about to do.
The smell hit me before I opened the door—warm vanilla, faint lavender, and something a little citrusy. Soft steam curled under the doorframe like it was sneaking out to greet me.”
I opened it quietly and stepped inside.
There she was.
Naji was half-submerged in the oversized tub, with her head tilted back, curls pinned up loosely, and one arm resting along the edge. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted in peace. The water was still, except for the gentle movement of her knee breaking the surface every few seconds.
I sat on the edge of the tub, careful not to startle her.
“I hate to interrupt your ‘me’ time,” I made my presence known, voice low.
Naji’s eyes fluttered open slowly, pupils still soft from rest. “T-Too late.”
I smiled faintly. “So, I just spoke to my publicist. She’s on her way over and wants to speak with both of us.”
“W-why me ?” Naji asked, her voice pitching high with a tic. “Jesus in jacuzzi bubbles!”
She slapped at the bubbles, sending water sloshing over the rim of the tub.
“Well, you’re the star, wifey ,” I explained. “And… she wants to meet you. So you gotta cut this royal bath short. She’ll be here in thirty, and I need you dressed by then.”
Naji groaned and sank deeper into the water until her chin touched the surface.
“Ugh! I… I don’t think I’m ready to be back in the spotlight. I just wanted some d-damn tea—pillowcase prosecution!”
Naji’s shoulders jerked slightly under the water as another tic rolled through her; her toes flexing against the edge of the tub.
“You got tea,” I commented with a chuckle, trying to lighten the moment. “It just came with a side of internet fame.”
She let out a dramatic huff with her lips poking out and arms crossed beneath the foam like a pouty goddess.
“This is discrimination against bubble baths!” she complained.
I smirked. “I’ll make you a new one tonight. Same scent. Hotter water. Only this time… I’m getting in too. So I can wash your back—with my tongue. ”
She blushed, trying to hide it behind a half-hearted glare.
“I d-don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, being that you’re the reason I’m… in here in the first place.”
“Exactly. That’s why I should be the one to undo the damage.”
I kissed her forehead and stood up.
“You got twenty-five minutes. I suggest you get moving, baby.”
As I made my way toward the bedroom, I decided to open up Instagram and scroll through some of the comments.
There she was—Naji—caught in several angles, looking confused at the counter.
Her hair slightly frizzed, her purse barely hanging on her shoulder, and her tics subtly surfacing through her expression.
Another angle showed the cashier looking stunned as Paris laid into him.
Then another post had a tweet pinned to the top:
@SpillItSis: “Y’all… I swear that’s Naji Ali from that old modeling agency.
And below that?—
@TeaTime24/7: “WAIT! Are they MARRIED?!”
My eyes dropped to the comment count. 1,472 in under two hours.
I scrolled.
@glowupqueen: “She’s so pretty, though… always has been.”
@hoodjournalist: “Honestly, she looks like she’s been through it. Poor girl.”
@cityshadeblog: “Not Imanio Kors hiding a whole wife! ”
@modelwatcher88: “She used to model, right? I thought she dropped off the radar.”
@streetteaunlocked: “Isn’t she the one with that… condition? Tourette’s or something?”
@slayorbust: “That girl’s face still eats!”
@korsfanclub: “If that’s his wife, he won. She’s gorgeous.”
My jaw was tense, but strangely… my chest was calm.
There was no mockery or slander; just curiosity, a little shock, and some nosy commentary, but no hate. The news was spreading like oil on water—smooth, wide, and fast.
I blew out a long sigh, tossed my phone on the bed, and murmured, “Guess the cat’s out the fucking bag. Let’s get this shit over with.”