CHAPTER 17
Miley’s POV:
The morning light didn’t creep into my bedroom; it shattered against the window glass like a liquid amber wave, heavy and sharp with the inescapable heat of a New York summer.
I groaned, burying my face into the cooling fabric of my pillowcase, trying to hold onto the final fragments of a dream that was rapidly dissolving.
My entire body felt like an over-wound clock spring.
Every muscle in my shoulders carried the phantom pressure of the previous night—the suffocating elegance of Helisa’s penthouse, the rich, savory smell of Naomi’s oxtail, and the terrifying, sharp clack of Ciara’s green stiletto striking the hallway plaster.
Before my internal clock could even start mapping out the day’s anxieties, the sharp, distinct vibration of my iPhone buzzed violently against the wooden surface of the nightstand. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
I rolled over, my long box braids cascading over my face, and reached for the device with a heavy, hesitant hand.
The screen illuminated the dim room, casting a stark white glow across my eyelids.
It was a text from Helisa. A long text. The kind of message that required scrolling twice just to see the timestamp.
Helisa: Miley, I cannot begin to apologize enough for the absolute chaos of last night.
What happened in the hallway... it shouldn't have escalated the way it did, and I completely lose sleep thinking about how uncomfortable that must have made you. You came to my home for a strategy dinner, as a professional, and I allowed the environment to become personal and volatile. Ciara was hurt, and in her anger, she almost walked away from the firm entirely. She almost quit on me, Miley. The thought of losing her—and the thought of breaking the trust we’ve barely begun to build with you—had me completely undone.
We talked through the night, and thankfully, she is staying.
We are all good now. But I need you to know that your position at E-Tech is safe, and what happened between us...
it’s something we will address with the maturity it deserves.
Please let me know you got this. See you at the office.
I stared at the block of text, my heart doing a slow, heavy thud against my ribs.
Ciara almost quit. The words tasted like copper in the back of my throat.
I could feel a sudden, unexpected sting behind my eyes, a hot prickle of tears that I had to blink away aggressively.
I was just an intern from Harlem. A girl with big dreams, a couple of sharp blazers, and a hunger to make it out of the cycle of survival.
Now, I was the epicenter of a high-society earthquake that almost dismantled a multi-million-dollar tech consultancy before my first evaluation period was even over.
I took a deep, steadying breath, my thumbs hovering over the glass screen as I typed out a response, trying to match her executive composure while keeping my own boundaries intact.
Miley: Good morning, Helisa. Thank you for the transparency. I’m really glad to hear that you and Ciara sorted everything out—the last thing I ever wanted was to cause a rift between the two of you or the firm. It’s all good over here. I’m just focused on the work. See you at the office later.
I hit send, watched the little blue bubble vanish into the ether, and threw the phone back onto the mattress.
I slid my legs out from under the linen sheets, my bare feet hitting the hardwood floor of the bedroom.
Usually, the first thing I did was drop into fifty push-ups and a solid fifteen minutes of core work to get my blood pumping, but this morning?
The vibe was completely dead. My spirit felt heavy, weighed down by the complicated geometry of the people who kept pulling at my jacket.
"I don't even want to look at a spreadsheet today," I muttered to myself, rubbing my temples as I stood up.
I walked over to the full-length mirror, looking at my reflection.
My skin looked tired, the dark brown of my eyes clouded with a restless exhaustion.
I wished more than anything that I could just call out sick.
I yearned to just pull the blinds down, turn the AC up until the room felt like an icebox, and spend the next twelve hours buried under a duvet, watching mindless Netflix series while the rest of New York fought the rat race without me.
The thought of Netflix, though—the simple, unpretentious comfort of it—instantly triggered a memory in the back of my brain. Angela.
Angela was Monica’s daughter, completely removed from the sleek, cutthroat hallways of E-Tech.
She didn't smell like corporate ambition or expensive French perfume; she was grounded, real, and possessed a quiet energy that didn't demand anything from me.
In this exact moment, caught in a suffocating love triangle between a powerful CEO, a fierce executive vice president, and my own complicated history with my roommate, Angela felt like an absolute life raft.
I needed a clean break from the drama, even if it was just for an hour.
I needed to breathe regular air with someone who didn't know what a venture capital presentation looked like.
I snatched my phone back up, opened Instagram, and pulled up her profile. My fingers moved fast, fueled by a sudden burst of determination.
Miley: Hey stranger. Hope your morning is going good. I know it’s super last minute, but I’m gonna need a serious breather after work today. Would you be down to just take a walk with me at the park later? Let me know.
I didn't even expect an immediate answer, but before I could lock the screen, the notification banner popped up at the top of the display.
Angela: Hey! Perfect timing, honestly. I was just thinking about you. I’m definitely down for a walk, I could use some fresh air myself. Just send me the location and the time and I’ll be there. Don't stress too hard today.
A genuine, easy smile broke across my face—the first real piece of joy I had felt since waking up.
I quickly typed out the coordinates for a quiet spot near the north end of Central Park, set a time for right after the evening rush hour, and tucked the phone into the pocket of the silk robe I threw over my shoulders.
***
I tied the sash of my robe tight around my waist, walking out of the bedroom and stepping through the glass doors onto the small iron balcony that overlooked our corner of the neighborhood.
The morning air was already thick, carrying that classic New York humidity that smelled of asphalt, garbage, and the distant, sweet aroma of a neighborhood bakery starting its morning run.
I leaned my forearms against the cool metal railing, closing my eyes and letting the breeze flutter the edges of my silk robe.
My mind automatically drifted backward, tracing the events of the previous evening before the chaos started.
I remembered the heavy, perfectly seasoned taste of Naomi’s oxtail, the way the meat literally slid off the bone, and the deep, resonant rhythm of her voice when she sat across from me in that kitchen.
“You gotta protect your peace, little sister,” she had told me, her eyes full of an old, ancestral wisdom that had survived generations of city madness.
“Don't let these people consume your light before you even know how bright it can burn.”
I was still chewing on those words, letting them anchor my spirit, when the subtle, familiar shift in the air behind me made my neck hairs stand up.
A pair of soft, warm hands slid around my waist from behind, the fingers pressing firmly through the silk of my robe.
Instantly, the rich, distinct scent of cocoa butter and vanilla bean lotion filled my senses—a fragrance so deeply woven into the fabric of my life that I could recognize it in the middle of a crowded room. Terra.
She pressed her chest flush against my back, her body heat radiating right through my clothes.
Before I could even speak, she leaned her head down, her lips soft and warm as she began planting light, lingering kisses along the sensitive line of my shoulder, moving slowly up toward the base of my ear.
"Morning, beautiful," Terra whispered, her voice rough and husky from sleep, her breath fluttering against my skin like a hot spark.
An involuntary shiver rippled down my spine, my lips curling into a soft smile as I leaned back against her weight. "Morning, Terra."
"I trust that you slept well last night?" she murmured, her arms tightening around my waist, pulling me so close against the balcony rails that I could feel the rhythmic thump of her heart against my shoulder blades.
"Somewhat," I replied, tilting my head back slightly to give her better access to my neck, my eyelids fluttering shut. "My mind was kind of all over the place. How about you?"
Terra let out a low, wicked little chuckle that vibrated right through my spine. "My brain was tired as hell, babe... but my coochie was wide awake."
I burst out laughing, the sudden, unrefined loudness of it echoing into the morning street below. I turned my head, looking at her over my shoulder. "Oh, my god. You are absolutely ridiculous, Terra."
"Stop laughing, I’m deadass not kidding," she spilled, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a heavy, intense playfulness that made the temperature on the balcony skyrocket.
She nipped lightly at my earlobe, her fingers digging slightly into my hips.
"The bitch was throbbing all night long, Miley.
Seriously. Just lying there under the covers, completely starving, badly needing your tongue to fix it. "
The laughter died in my throat, replaced instantly by a thick, heavy wave of heat that pooled right between my thighs. The playful tone shifted into something incredibly carnal, the memory of our shared history and the raw intensity of the previous night’s kiss rushing back to the surface.