Chapter 10
Naomi
“I Was Never Just One of Them”
Ares was long gone by the time me and the other bitches started leaving the dining room one by one. Some of them stayed, eating as if it were their first and last luxury meal. Not me. I couldn’t eat a plate that basically screamed ‘Fuck you, you’re dismissed’ all over it.
I knew this day would come.
Knew eventually he would realize he had too much on his plate… and a bunch of hungry bitches was at the top of the list that had to go.
I walked out of his label calm, head held high. I wasn’t about to let other women see me cracking. Not when I’d known him as a teenager. Not when I’d been the one wiping his tears back when he was Lil Ghost, sitting in my shop chair with a busted lip and too much to say.
I got to my Porsche truck and slid behind the wheel, letting out a slow breath before clicking FaceTime. He picked up on the second ring—my real boyfriend, Trevon. The one nobody knew about. The one I kept tucked far away from Ares’ rules because I was never any man’s fool.
He was a sexy ass mechanic from South Central, low-key, older, and allergic to social media. Exactly what I needed full-time after Ares.
“Why haven’t I seen or heard from you in days again, woman?” he asked, raising an eyebrow on the screen. “I thought we agreed you would at least call a nigga.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. Life been lifing.” I paused. “And—”
“And you were with him. I get it. It’s the money.”
“No. It’s not that,” I said quickly. “And he’s no longer. I promise. It’s just us moving forward.”
“Show me,” he said.
“I can start tonight. I’m hungry. Come to my place so I can cook for you. And don’t think about leaving. Pack a bag.”
He smirked. “A’ight, Naomi. I’ll pop in in two hours.”
When we hung up, I sighed and glanced up just in time to see Amara walking out of the building, head in her phone, last to leave. She didn’t look sad, but she damn sure wasn’t happy either.
I blew my horn, and she walked over.
“You okay, girl?” I asked her.
I didn’t know her like that, other than the fact that I fought for her at that damn club, but something about her energy made me want to be cool with her. She was pretty—supermodel looks—and the only thing keeping her off a runway had to be her height.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she said. “He’s a piece of shit. Whatever money he gives us to keep us from calling him a dog online, I’m going on a long vacation on an island. I never should’ve let him talk me into this.”
“Girl, I’m feeling the same way,” I said. “He don’t let nobody touch that nappy-ass fade, so I know he’ll be calling soon. I should fuck up his line-up.”
Amara giggled. “You definitely should. Let’s get drinks tomorrow and toast to freedom and a paid breakup.”
I agreed, then drove off.
I tried my best not to think about Ares, but something in me kept whispering that this breakup wasn’t because he wanted to let us go. As much as he played it cool, he loved us in his own fucked-up way. A fight or two wouldn’t have caused this.
There had to be a motive.
Something bigger.
Something darker.
I was compelled to text him.
So I did.
Me: I’m not mad or hurt. I was wrong for fighting. I’ll stand on it. But you know we are bigger than us dating. So if you need to talk, I’m still here.
He didn’t respond.
I didn’t expect him to.
When I got home, I shoved my phone in a drawer and focused on the night ahead with my real man.
He arrived exactly when he said he would.
We had flowers in one hand, a duffel bag in the other.
A grown man. A man with patience. A man who didn’t come with enemies waiting to shoot up everything he loved.
I cooked for him, laughing, drinking wine, pretending my heart wasn’t drifting somewhere else.
Later, when he kissed me and pressed me into the mattress, I let myself go with him. I let him touch me. I let him please me. I even moaned his name like I meant it.
When his breathing got heavy, his hands slid around my waist, and he whispered he loved the way I felt…
Ares flashed in my head.
His voice.
His hands.
His tattoos.
His darkness.
His fucking smirk.
And I hated that I couldn’t turn it off.
My new man was good.
Real good.
But he wasn’t him.
And no matter how hard I tried to bury Ares Delacroix-Jackson in the past…
He stayed right there under my skin, refusing to leave.