Obligated

Chiana

Two weeks had gone by since that wreck of a Sunday dinner, and I had sworn up and down to Juste that I wasn't going back. Hell nah. Not that I didn't hold my own, because I definitely did. But his mama? She was different, and I didn't have the patience to keep proving myself to a woman who was determined not to like me. So instead of going back and forth with Juste about it, I made up my mind, I wasn't going back.

This morning, I decided to work from home, something I'd been doing more of lately. The numbers in front of me were starting to blur together when my phone buzzed across the desk. I glanced at the screen. Maseon. Damn. It had been about two years since I last talked to him. We had grown up together. After Antonio left he was there—one of those right place, wrong time situations. The sex? Fire. But it had never been anything serious, and when he moved to Texas, we had just left things where they were. I wasn't expecting to hear from him. I tapped the screen, putting the call on speaker.

"This is ,"

I answered, flipping through one of my ledgers. "What up, Ana?"

His deep, familiar voice came through the phone, carrying that same laid-back confidence he'd always had. "Working. What's up, Mase?"

I asked, keeping my tone professional, letting him know this wasn't that.

"I'll be in town tomorrow. Need to meet with you 'bout some financial shit,"

he said smoothly. Then, his voice dropped a little lower. "I hope you been good. Know you still fine as shit."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I been working from home, but I can check my calendar and get back to you on what time I can meet you at my office tomorrow."

I glanced up at my laptop screen, then looked again—and immediately froze. Juste was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, frown so deep it looked etched in stone. Shit.

I swallowed, keeping my face neutral, but my pulse kicked up a little. He stepped inside slowly, his heavy footsteps deliberate, his sharp eyes locked directly on me. Then, he posted up at the edge of my desk, leaned back, and stuck his hands in his pockets, watching me. Silent. Unblinking.

Maseon's voice pulled me back. "Shid, I could swing by ya crib, either or."

My mouth opened, but before I could get a word out, Juste's head cocked to the side, his arms folding back across his chest. The nigga was sizing up a phone call. I arched my brow, my own arms folding across my chest. I turned my attention back to the phone. "Office is better. I'll let you know what time I'm available."

A short pause came. Then, "Bet you do that."

The call ended, and for a few seconds, the room was quiet. Too quiet.

I reached for my water bottle, twisting the cap. "What?"

Juste just sat there, his expression unreadable, his energy shifting the entire room. "Maseon, who?"

I sighed, already knowing where this was going. "Maseon Dupree, Juste. A client. Needing financial services. That is what I do, remember?"

I watched his jaw tick, his lips pressing together slightly. "Know him?"

I asked. I tilted my head, studying him. "Know of him."

He answered His eyes darkened, his voice flat, blunt, and sharp as hell—"You fucked dat nigga?"

The words hit like a hammer. I sat back in my chair, staring at him, a deep frown settling on my face. He already knew the answer. That wasn't the problem. He just wanted to hear me say it.

"What, you can't hear?"

His tone dropped even lower, a quiet challenge. "Did you fuck dat nigga?"

I swallowed, my eyes locking onto his. And then, without breaking his stare, I nodded. His lips twitched, like he was about to smirk, but the sound that left his mouth was a short, humorless laugh. He leaned back, rubbing his palm over his face before shaking his head slightly. "Refer dat nigga to a colleague."

His voice was even, too calm, and that's how I knew he was pissed. "You not meetin' wit him."

I blinked, my frown deepening. "The fuck you mean, I'm not meeting with him?"

His eyes snapped back to mine, his arms folding across his chest. "Exactly what I said. That shit dead."

I let out a short, humorless laugh, pushing my chair back slightly. "You got me fucked up if you think I'm 'bout to drop a client for whatever reason you done came up with in your head."

Juste's jaw flexed, the muscle ticking as his lips pressed into a firm line.

Before I could even shift back, he was already in front of me, his presence demanding, unshakable. One strong hand gripped my waist, pulling me just enough to feel the weight of his control, while the other tilted my chin up, forcing my eyes on his. ", stop playin' with me."

His voice was low, rough, a quiet warning that vibrated straight through my chest.

His fingers tightened slightly, his eyes dark and dead serious. "It ain't 'bout insecurity. It's 'bout respect. I don't want no nigga sittin' across from you thinkin' 'bout what you look like naked instead of the business y'all supposed to be handlin' ."

I pressed my lips together, exhaling slowly through my nose, trying to steady myself. Because this was Juste St. Jean at his core. Possessive. Controlling. Unapologetic about it. I could feel the heat rolling off of him, his presence so heavy, so intense, like he was making damn sure his words weren't just heard, but felt. Still, I wasn't about to just let this ride.

"You blowing shit way—"

He cut me off before I could finish, his grip tightening slightly. "Aye, I don't even care too much to keep talkin' about it, ."

His voice was sharp, clipped, like he was done with the conversation before it could even start. "I said what I said. I meant what I said."

Then he stepped away from the desk, putting space between us, but his energy stayed right there—lingering, thick, pulling at me even though I was trying my hardest not to give in.

I folded my arms over my chest, tilting my head. "So that's it? Juste said what he said, and that's supposed to be the end of it?"

He let out a short breath, rubbing his hand over his face before leveling me with a slow, unreadable look.

"You can do whatever the fuck you wanna do, but you heard exactly what I said."

That one sentence made my entire body heat up—not from desire, but from frustration. Because I knew Juste. Knew how he moved. That "do whatever you wanna do"

didn't mean shit—it was a challenge. A warning wrapped up in fake-ass nonchalance. He was daring me to go against him, just so he could be right in the end. I narrowed my eyes, my arms tightening across my chest. "Juste—"

"Nah,"

he cut me off, shaking his head before turning on his heels and leaving the office. The sound of his heavy footsteps disappeared down the hall, followed by the faint click of the front door shutting behind him. And just like that, I was alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with the frustration buzzing in my chest. I sat there, arms still crossed, my face set in stone, my mind racing. Because I was really starting to hate this shit. Not the money. Not the security. But the way Juste thought he could dictate my every move. The way he thought his word was law, and the moment I stepped out of line, it was an issue. I let out a slow breath, pressing my fingertips to my temples before finally standing up and grabbing my phone.

_

The next day I found myself having to rush in to my office at lunch time . One of my elder clients, Ms. Martine, had some fraudulent charges pop up on her account and wanted to see me after visiting the bank . Something that had been happening a lot lately . I'd decided not to set up the meet with Maseon, I knew it bothered Juste because he hadn't bothered saying much last night , but didn't miss the opportunity to nail me to the cross this morning before he left, still short in his words .

Once Ms. Martine left I tried to straighten my office back up quickly so that I could make it to the grocery store and home because I planned on cooking and I wanted something sweet . I straightened out my shirt that was tucked in my navy blue slacks before bending over to place to file back in the drawer.

"Damn Ana, a nigga do not remember your ass being that thick,"

Maseons voice came through the air causing me to straighten up and turn around . Chills ran up my arms. I turned seeing Mase standing there , still fine as he'd been when we were kids . He was always a fly nigga. "Please Mase , What you doing here ,"

I questioned my heels clacking as I walked back over closer to my desk .

"I told you I needed to get up with you bout some shit , you never hit me back . So, I figured I'd just swing by and pray you was here . "

He said pulling out the chair sitting down in front of my desk . I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked my head to the side. "And what if I wasn't?"

He shrugged, completely unbothered, sliding into the chair across from my desk like he had all the time in the world. "Then that woulda been my bad, wouldn't it?"

"So what's up Mase ? "

I questioned trying to figure out what he wanted . He showed me a few of his statements and we talked through them. Maseon still had his hands in scamming, it was clear to see . If I could see it know the feds could. We sat and talked about his finances for another twenty minutes . "Go legit and clean this bullshit up Mase. I'm telling you this is a mess."

I said staring at him. He signed running his hand over his waves nodding . Before anything else could be said the door to the building opened again. When I looked up my stomach fell in my ass . Damn!

The second Juste walked in, the temperature in the room dropped. My stomach flipped, my palms itched, and I felt my heartbeat thump against my ribcage. Because I already knew what it was. He was pissed. I could see it in his posture, the way his shoulders sat stiff and squared, the way his jaw ticked ever so slightly. His hands were deep in his pockets, but I knew better. That wasn't a relaxed stance—that was Juste keeping himself from doing something reckless.

Pierre and Noles weren't saying shit, but they stood at both his sides, their presence just as loud. Maseon shifted in his seat, trying not to look tense, but I caught the way he straightened his spine, the way his fingers twitched slightly against his thigh. Juste walked over and sat at the edge of my desk, real smooth, but his energy wasn't laid back. It was calculated, dominant, like he was making it very clear who was in charge here. Then, without taking his eyes off mine, he leaned in and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to my forehead. That was territorial as hell.

Mase saw it, too. Because he shifted again, throwing a quick smirk on his face, but I could tell it was forced. Juste finally spoke, his tone easy, but laced with something lethal. "Baeeby, I swear me and you had an English conversation that we both agreed and understood about this right here yesterday?"

I blinked, keeping my expression neutral, but inside, I was scrambling. I didn't think his ass would find out about this. I parted my lips, trying to find the right words, but before I could say anything, Mase beat me to it. "Ana, you fuckin' with Juste St. Jean?"

The way he said his name, like it had weight to it. Like this wasn't their first time crossing paths. My frown deepened. "Y'all know one another?"

Juste didn't look at Mase. Didn't acknowledge his presence at all. He kept his focus locked on me. That was worse than him saying something. Mase let out a low chuckle, rubbing his chin like something about this situation was funny to him. "You always was green as hell, Ana."

My stomach tightened, irritation flaring up quick. But before I could check his ass, Juste turned his head slow, finally acknowledging Maseon for the first time. His expression didn't change, but his tone dropped a little deeper. ", nigga."

That was a correction. A reminder. Then, with the same calmness, Juste continued. "You know who the fuck I am, just like I know who the fuck you is. Million dolla debt Mase."

I froze. My heart stuttered. I turned my eyes back to Maseon, frowning. "What?"

Mase clenched his jaw, but his silence spoke volumes. "Somebody wanna fill me in?"

I asked, looking between them.

Mase exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. "It was some old shit, Ana."

Juste let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Pierre , get keys and drive her to the house. straight there"

He said looking over his shoulder . I frowned and squared my shoulders, staring Juste dead in his face, waiting for him to come up with a different plan. Because the one he just spit out Wasn't gon' work. I wasn't leaving him and Mase here together .

Pierre hesitated, looking between the both of us, like he already knew he was in the middle of some shit .I kept my hand firm over my keys, jaw tight. "I can drive my damn self home when I'm ready."

My voice was calm, but my stance Unmovable. Juste let out another short laugh, but this one Wasn't humorous at all. His hands slid into his pockets, his gaze locked onto mine, studying me like he was trying to decide just how far I was willing to push him. Then, he nodded once. "Pierre, get her keys."

Pierre cleared his throat, took half a step forward—And I turned my head real slow, my eyes cutting at him like a warning. "Touch 'em, and I swear to God, your ugly ass gon' regret it."

Pierre froze. Noles let out a low whistle, stepping back like he wanted no parts of this shit. Juste licked his lips, nodding slow, like he was giving me another chance to do things his way.

"Baeeby,"

Juste's voice was low, easy, but there was a weight behind it. A warning. "You gon' make me repeat myself?"

I tilted my head, locking eyes with him, my expression unreadable. I didn't speak. Didn't flinch. Didn't move. I just stared up at him, like a kid who knew they were about to get in trouble but refused to break first. The room got quiet.

Even the air felt thick, like it was bracing for the storm Juste was about to bring down on me. He let out a slow breath, rubbing his hand down his face, his jaw ticking like he was debating his next move. Before I could react, he snatched me up by the arm, pulling me clean out of my chair like I didn't weigh a damn thing. "What the hell, Juste!"

I yelped as my heels slipped on the floor, my body stumbling against his, but he didn't slow down. Didn't hesitate. Didn't give me a chance to catch my damn balance. He dragged me toward the door like he was on a mission, his grip tight, like he was pissed, but still controlling his strength.

I tried to yank away, but Juste had a grip on me like a vice, his fingers locked around my wrist as he pulled me out of the building and straight to the car. The sun hit my face, the heat of the afternoon making my skin prickle, but it didn't compare to the heat radiating off him. He was boiling. "Goddamn it, Juste!"

I hissed, stumbling again before finally catching my footing. "Would you let me go?!"

He didn't even acknowledge my words. Instead, he swung the passenger side door open and damn near shoved me inside, stepping between me and my exit before I could even think about jumping back out. I turned my glare up at him, breath coming in short, my chest rising and falling fast. "You lost your damn mind?"

Juste didn't even blink. Instead, he leaned in close, his dark eyes pinning me to the seat, his voice thick, heavy, deadly calm. "You must think I'm fuckin' playin' with you, ."

I clenched my jaw, refusing to back down, even though my pulse was beating hard as hell against my throat. I refused to let him see that he shook me. "I don't need you manhandling me, Juste,"

I snapped, my voice tight with frustration. "I told you, I can handle my damn self."

He let out a humorless chuckle, his tongue flicking across his teeth. "Yeah? That what you think?"

I folded my arms. "That's what I know."

His jaw flexed, his patience thinning with every breath I took. Then, suddenly, his fingers hooked under my chin, forcing my face up, his touch firm but not rough. "I'll see you when I get there."

Before I could even form a response, he slammed the door shut in my face, the sound cutting through the thick air between us. I sat there, my pulse pounding, my mouth slightly open as I processed what the hell just happened.

Then, slowly, I lifted my middle finger to the window, aiming it right at him as he turned and disappeared back into the building. Cocky, overbearing ass. I let out a breath and sank back into the seat, arms crossed tightly over my chest, my mind whirling with everything that just went down. A few minutes later, Pierre walked out, my purse and laptop bag in hand, moving like he was on a mission. Without a word, he slid into the driver's seat and started easing us away from the building.

I cut my eyes at him. "You gon' tell me what's going on?"

He exhaled through his nose, like he knew this conversation was inevitable but still didn't feel like having it. After a pause, he glanced over at me before shifting his eyes back to the road. "Ya boy in a million-dollar debt to the St. Jeans. Been that way since his ass fled the city."

I threw my head back against the seat, letting out a frustrated sigh as the weight of Maseon's bullshit settled onto my shoulders. That nigga was forever in some shit. And now He'd brought me into it. I felt my headache creeping in, pressing against my temples, making my chest tighten. I had spent so much energy fighting Juste on this, only to find out he had a point. Mase was assed out.

I was stuck looking dumb as hell. I pressed my fingers against my temples, forcing my frustration down, trying to figure out how I was going to smooth things over with Juste. Because lowkey I wanted to cry. Not just because of Maseon's bullshit, not just because Juste had been right, but because I had let my pride get in the way. I should’ve turned Maseon’s ass around.

Pierre drove in silence, the weight of the situation settling heavy in the car. I kept my arms crossed over my chest, my jaw tight, my mind running in circles trying to figure out how the hell I was gonna fix this. I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "A million-dollar debt? Pierre, how the fuck is Mase still breathing?"

Pierre let out a dry chuckle, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "That's a good-ass question. Jus let him slide once... and that nigga dipped out the city before his luck ran out."

I sucked my teeth, irritated.

Pierre glanced at me. "And your ass sittin' across from him like you tryna get caught up in the crossfire."

I rolled my eyes, turning to stare out the window. "I ain't know all that at the time."

Pierre scoffed. "Yeah, well... now you do."

I chewed on my lip, my mind flashing back to Juste's face when he walked in that office. The way his eyes never left mine. The coldness in them. The disappointment. I had never seen him look at me like that before, and the thought bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

The car slowed, pulling into the long driveway of the house. Pierre parked and glanced at me. "You want some advice?"

I sighed, my fingers tightening around my bag. "Not really."

"Cool, I'm giving it anyway."

I turned to glare at him, and he smirked. "Jus is mad as hell,"

he said, resting his arm on the steering wheel. "And you know he don't let shit go easy. If I was you? I'd figure out how to make that nigga forget why he mad before he even gets the chance to think about it too much"

I exhaled, shaking my head. "You tryna say I need to seduce my way out of this shit?"

Pierre shrugged, his smirk deepening like he was enjoying this a little too much. "I'm just saying, Jus got a soft spot for you, but that don't mean you immune to consequences. I'm not telling you to suck the man dick and fuck him real good, I'm just sayin'... ya know."

He shrugged again, a teasing glint in his eye. I smacked my lips, rolling my eyes. "Pierre, this ain't the time to be playing."

But unfortunately, His ass was probably right.

I pushed open the door to the house and let out a deep breath, shaking off the frustration from earlier. My mind was running a mile a minute, but one thing I knew for sure? I needed to do something to get Juste off my ass.

I went straight into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and digging around for something to cook. My hands moved on autopilot, grabbing the ingredients for jambalaya, my go-to comfort meal, and Juste loved it. The aroma of seasoned shrimp, smoked sausage, and peppers filled the kitchen as I stirred the pot, my mind still stuck on Juste's reaction earlier. I sighed, plating up the food before covering it and leaving it on the counter. I wasn't even hungry no more. Instead, I headed upstairs, peeling off my clothes and running a bubble bath. The second I slid into the warm, vanilla-scented water, I let out a deep breath, my muscles finally relaxing.

And right on time, my phone started ringing. I smirked, already knowing who it was before I even glanced at the screen. Amina. I hit answer and put her on speaker, sinking deeper into the water. "You good, ho?"

was the first thing out of her mouth. I laughed. "Damn, Amina. No 'hello' first?"

"Girl, fuck all that. I felt it in my spirit—your ass got some goin on."

I shook my head, running my fingers through my damp braids. "I always do lately."

"Exactly."

I could hear her chewing, meaning she was either at some restaurant on her layover or sitting in her apartment eating like she ain't got no damn sense. "Alright, spill."

I exhaled. "So boom, I may have met up with Maseon even though Juste specifically told me not to."

There was a long silence on the other end. Then... "Bitch..."

I winced, bracing myself. "I know, I know—"

"Bitch, did I hear you correctly? You met up with who?! The ex-situationship nigga? The nigga you used to let fold you up like a damn pretzel? While you livin' with a whole mob boss who got jealousy issues?"

I covered my face with my free hand. "Amina, please—"

"Nah, ho. 'Cause you done lost your damn mind."

I sighed dramatically, staring up at the ceiling. "It wasn't even like that. He's a client. It was business."

"And Juste's ass don't give a fuck about that. And you knew he wouldn't, so why you playin' dumb?"

I frowned. "I wasn't playing dumb—"

"Bitch, you knew what you was doing. Don't piss on my head and tell me it's rainin'."

I let out a deep sigh, closing my eyes. "Yeah, okay. Maybe I underestimated how pissed Juste would be."

"Oh, you definitely did."

I could practically hear her shaking her head through the phone. "And now what? You tryna fix it?"

I opened my eyes, thinking about the way Juste had looked at me earlier. The weight of his stare. The anger beneath the surface. And then, the way he grabbed me, touched me, made sure I felt exactly what the fuck he meant. I bit my lip. "I mean... I'm not tryna have the man mad at me forever."

"Mmhmm. So what's the game plan?"

I ran my fingers along the rim of the bathtub, letting the bubbles pop against my skin. "I cooked for him."

Amina scoffed. "That's step one. You gotta do more than that though, bitch. You know Juste ain't no regular nigga. He the type that need you to stroke his ego a little. Give him a little attitude, but also remind him that you his."

I smirked. "So basically, I gotta finesse my way out of this shit?"

"Duh. It's either that, or be ready for some real petty, toxic, long-ass punishment type shit. And knowing Juste? That nigga is King Petty."

I groaned, sinking deeper into the tub. "damnit."

Amina laughed. "It's what you get, ho. But don't worry, you got this. Just use that good-ass pussy and a little bit of charm. Niggas ain't as complicated as they like to think they are."

I shook my head. "You too much Mina."

"And yet, I ain't the one about to beg a nigga for forgiveness."

I hung up on her ass.

I stepped out of the tub, my skin still warm from the water, and made my way into the bedroom. I perched at the edge of the bed, wrapped in a plush towel, rubbing lotion into my thighs when the door swung open. Juste strolled in, a bowl of jambalaya in one hand, his fork in the other. He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, taking slow bites, his dark eyes locked on me. I could tell he was still mad. Still pissed about Maseon. But he wasn't saying it. Instead, he kept chewing, then grabbed a bottle of water from the dresser, taking a long sip before putting it down. I sighed, smoothing lotion up my legs, my heart picking up speed at the intensity in his stare. "What?"

He didn't answer. Didn't give me no damn warning either. One second, I was sitting there, wrapped in my towel. The next, The towel was gone, ripped away in one swift motion, and Juste was on me, his grip firm as he snatched me forward. Before I could even catch my breath, he had my legs pinned up, one big hand holding them there as his other gripped his dick, slapping it against my clit. I gasped, my mind trying to catch up—but Juste wasn't giving me time to think. A deep growl left his throat. "You like ignoring me, huh?"

Before I could answer, he dove into me, making my mouth fall open, my body arch up on instinct. "Juste—"

"Mmhmm,"

he grunted, his strokes deep, his grip possessive. I had pissed him off. In one swift motion, he flipped me over, my hands barely catching myself against the sheets before he yanked my hips up, planting his palm at the small of my back, pushing me down. Then, he was inside me again, his pace relentless, each stroke hitting deeper, rougher. His voice was like thunder in my ear. "Why the fuck you act like you can't do what I say?"

A sharp slap landed against my ass, sending a shockwave through my body.

I gasped, my fingers gripping the sheets. "I—Juste—"

Another slap. "That nigga got better dick than me or somethin'? That why you ignorin me?"

Oh, he was wildin' now. I tried to shake my head, but all that came out were moans—loud, breathless, uncontrollable moans. He grabbed a fistful of my braids, yanking me up, making my back arch into him.

"You gon' listen next time, huh?"

he growled, grinding into me, making my body tremble all over again I could barely breathe. Barely function. And then, his hand slipped lower, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing slow, deep circles that had me damn near delirious. I sobbed out a moan, my nails digging into the sheets. His lips brushed against my ear, his voice a low, dangerous promise. "Tell me you sorry, baeeby."

I whimpered. "Juste—"

"Tell me you love me."

My breath hitched, my body begging for release. "Say it, baeeby. I'll let you cum."

"I ....."

I moaned out but the words wouldn't leave my mouth. "Hmm I can't hear you ?"

He continued . "I'm sorry Juste"

I groaned out unable to control myself . "What else ?"

He rubbed me . "I love you... oh my god . I love you ."

I moaned out. my release sent my body shaking going limp, tears streamed down my face involuntarily. He wrapped his arm around me holding me in place as he finished . "I love you too,"

He mumbled into my back breathing hard .