Chapter Love, Uncut
Love, Uncut
Langston
The laughter around the table is loud, messy, and beautiful. Coleman’s grinning like a damn fool, still shell-shocked from the way Remi said yes and then tackled him into the grass like she was born to wear that ring.
She was.
He’s finally home. You can see it on him. In the ease in his shoulders. The joy in his eyes. The way he keeps looking at his phone like she might disappear if he doesn’t keep checking she’s real.
I raise my glass. “To the King who finally married for love.”
Harvey lets out a barking laugh. “Took him long enough.”
Nathan smirks. “Softest hardass I’ve ever met.”
Coleman just shrugs and pulls out his phone again. “I’d do it all again tomorrow.”
The others cheer and rib him, but I lean back in the booth, letting the sound blur around me. I swirl the whiskey in my glass, trying not to let the burn settle in my chest.
Because tonight, while my best friend celebrates the love of his life, I’ve just agreed to give mine away.
I haven't met her. I don’t need to. I’ve known the Kensington family since I was a kid. Old money. Older reputation. They run one of the largest private transportation fleets in the northeast, and our families joining forces means cornering every major city on the map.
My father said it best.
“This isn’t about romance, Langston. This is legacy.”
Legacy.
The word feels like a chain most days. Gilded and heavy.
But I wear it anyway.
Always have.
The bartender sets down another drink in front of Dean, but that’s not what grabs my attention.
No, it’s her.
A flash of red hair. Legs for miles. Black dress, short apron. She carries a tray in one hand and balances a bottle in the other with the kind of ease that says she’s been on her feet for too many hours—and still walks like she owns the world.
She’s not polished like the girls I’m used to. Not manicured or rehearsed.
She’s real.
And when her eyes meet mine?
The floor shifts.
One second. That’s all it takes.
One second to forget everything I’ve promised.
Everything I’m supposed to be.
“Damn,” Nathan mutters under his breath beside me, nudging my arm. “Did you see the new waitress?”
I clench my jaw.
“Yes.”
“She’s like… a summer sin,” he adds with a low whistle. “Tall, redheaded, and stacked. I might die happy if she brings me a beer.”
I want to kill him.
I grip the edge of the table so hard the wood creaks beneath my fingers.
But I say nothing. Do nothing.
Because I can’t.
My name isn’t just mine anymore. It belongs to generations of men who built our empire from the ground up. My parents expect me to carry it forward. The right way. The smart way.
That’s why I didn’t flinch when they told me about Kensington’s daughter. Why I nodded, agreed, said I’d do whatever needed to be done.
But now?
Now she’s looking at me again—this goddess in a short black apron—with a spark in her eyes and a smirk tugging at her mouth.
And then… she winks.
Fuck.
I drop my gaze, down the last of my whiskey, and force my voice into something casual.
“I’ll settle the tab,” I mutter to the guys. “Be right back.”
I pass her on the way to the bar, and I don’t look.
I don’t.
Because if I do, I’ll stop walking.
If I do, I’ll burn everything I’ve built to the ground.
I don’t know her name.
But I already know she’s dangerous.
Because for the first time in my life, I want something I’m not supposed to have.
And if she looks at me like that again?
Legacy be damned.