Chapter 41
TIANA
Griffin is supposed to be in Seattle.
He is not supposed to be here, in Los Angeles, at The Veyra Rooftop, when every atom of mine is still vibrating from the shock of seeing Markell’s face and the wine still boiling in my stomach.
The music keeps pulsing around us, but everything else seems to tilt out of focus.
My entire world has narrowed to Griffin. His chest rises with a breath that looks anything but calm. His hands flex at his sides like he is fighting the instinct to reach for me.
He is wearing a black coat I have never seen, the collar turned up in a way that makes him look younger, more reckless.
His hair is a little out of place, as if he’s been running his hands through it nonstop for hours.
I see the lines of exhaustion and worry under his eyes and the shadow on his jaw.
A thousand questions pile up in my brain, but not a single one makes it past my lips. There is only the stunned silence of disbelief. I can’t decide if I’m more confused that he’s here, or that I’m relieved to see him.
Renee is beside me, but her words are muffled, and I don’t even register what she’s saying before she walks away. I hear only the low sound of Griffin’s voice as he answers my question. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”
I stare at him, my pulse hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
How would he know I wasn’t okay?
I didn’t call or text him. I didn’t send him a single message after FaceTime with Sylas earlier today.
The last person I told about the party was @built2last. The stranger I messaged from a bathroom stall with shaking hands because I didn’t know who else to reach for.
Who knew I was at a rooftop party downtown, knew I was there with someone I didn’t want to see, knew enough to worry but not enough to—
I stop breathing.
“You needed to make sure I was okay?” I repeat.
Griffin doesn’t respond and the delay makes something cold slide beneath my ribs. His jaw tightens, and he looks at me with pleading in his eyes.
“How did you know where I was?”
Still no answer.
Renee’s hand tightens slightly around my arm, grounding me, but even that isn’t enough to stop the confusion from spreading through me.
“Griffin, how did you know I was here?” I ask again.
“I knew you had an influencer event tonight.”
“How?” My voice is soft, but I know he hears it.
This is making less and less sense. I didn’t tell him about this party. Suddenly, I’m spinning backwards through my last conversations. But I don’t dive deeper into any of them because a voice slides in from my left, making every muscle in my body lock.
“Well,” Markell says, “I was wondering if I’d get a chance to say hello.”
Griffin’s gaze cuts past my shoulder, and his expression changes so violently the air around us seems to sharpen.
He squares up, shoulders rolling back, jaw grinding so hard I swear I can hear his molars creak.
The tension in his arms is so visible I can almost trace the shapes of the muscles through his sleeves.
Markell notices it instantly, recognition flashing across his face, and his smile gets even bigger.
“Long way from Seattle, huh?” he says, looking at Griffin then back to me. “You look good, Tiana.”
I don’t answer—I can’t. There is no part of my brain that’s functional right now. My body knows only flight, but my feet are stuck to the ground.
Beside me, Griffin doesn’t move. Markell steps a little closer, just enough to force me to meet his gaze.
“You look good, sunshine,” he says again, and this time there’s an edge below the compliment, something I remember all too well from the last time we saw each other, when he tried to “fix” things by taking away my choices.
I want to disappear, but all I can do is stare at the ground and hope the concrete will open up and swallow me whole.
Markell leans in. “Wanna go somewhere quieter?”
“No. I’m fine here.”
His mouth curves like my answer amuses him. “Come on, Tiana. Don’t be like that.”
The air shifts again. Griffin moves, and suddenly the entire rooftop feels smaller.
One second, he is beside me, rigid and silent, and the next, he is in front of me, his body angled like a wall, making it clear that Markell will have to go through him to get to me.
“She said no,” Griffin says, voice deadly calm.
Markell’s gaze flicks to him, and the smugness on his face falters.
Griffin steps closer. “I told you once not to contact her. You didn’t listen.”
Markell’s smile reappears. “Yeah, well, I don’t remember taking orders from you.” His eyes slide past Griffin, trying to find me. “I think Tiana can answer for herself.”
“She did.” Griffin’s jaw flexes. “You just didn’t like the answer.”
Markell lets out a humorless laugh. “This is pathetic. What, you follow her around now?”
Griffin doesn’t even blink. “Only when men who have already been warned decide to make themselves a problem again.”
A chill skates down my spine.
Markell’s expression hardens, but Griffin stays perfectly controlled, which somehow makes him more terrifying.
“No,” he says when Markell tries to look around him again. “You look at me. You don’t look at her. You don’t speak to her. You don’t say her name like you have any right to it.”
My ex scoffs. “This is insane.”
“I was very clear. You were told to leave her alone. This is the last time you ignore that.”
Markell’s jaw tightens. “Is that a threat?”
I want to intervene—I should—but something about Griffin taking a stand for me is keeping me in place.
Griffin lets out a humourless laugh. “It’s whatever you want it to be.” He leans in just enough that my ex’s smile finally starts to fracture. “She is mine.”
My whole body goes still.
“She is my woman,” Griffin continues. “And you’re going to turn around and leave.”
A sharp breath leaves me, but my eyes stay locked on his back. On the breadth of his shoulders and the lethal stillness in his posture.
Markell tightens his grip around his glass. “You let men speak for you now, Tiana?”
I think Griffin is going to answer for me, but he doesn’t. I step to the side, no longer hidden behind him, though his body stays close enough to mine that I can feel his heat.
“No. I don’t let men speak for me anymore. That was the problem, wasn’t it, Markell? You liked me better when I was quiet. When I was uncomfortable but too polite to say it. When I let things slide because making you angry felt worse than making myself small.”
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips, but the dread has shifted into anger.
“You don’t get to walk up to me like we’re old friends,” I continue. “You don’t get to speak to me.”
His jaw works. “Tiana—”
I lift my palm to stop him. “You had your chance to listen to me. You ignored it. You ignored me when I told you to stop. You ignored every boundary I set until I had to block you just to feel like I could breathe again.” The words come out louder and some of the conversations around us begin to quiet.
Markell flushes, his eyes cutting to the people glancing over before returning to me. “You’re making it sound like something it wasn’t.”
My stomach turns.
And there it is. The subtle little rearranging of history men like him use when the truth makes them look too ugly.
“Fuck you, Markell,” I seethe. “You touched me after I told you not to. You kept contacting me after I told you to stop. And now you’re standing here acting offended because I don’t want to pretend all of that didn’t happen just to protect your ego.”
Griffin’s hand flexes beside me. I feel the fury radiating off him, but he doesn’t interrupt.
Markell’s mouth opens, then closes. For the first time since he walked over, he looks uncertain.
I take one slow breath and force the last words out. “So no, Markell. Griffin isn’t speaking for me.” I glance briefly at him, then back at my ex. “He’s standing beside me while I speak for myself.”
Pride flashes across Griffin’s face, mixed with a possessiveness that should probably annoy me but instead makes my knees feel weak.
Markell scoffs. “You’re being dramatic.”
I almost laugh. “Leave, Markell. And never speak to me again.”
Griffin steps forward when the asshole doesn’t move. “You heard her,” he says, voice low enough to make my skin prickle. “Get the fuck away from her.”
For a second, I think Markell might push him. Part of me almost wants him to, just to see what Griffin would do.
But my ex looks past Griffin one last time, his gaze cutting to me with bitterness. “Enjoy your guard dog,” he says.
Griffin’s shoulders go still, then he smiles. “Walk away, you piece of shit, and thank whatever survival instinct you still have that I’m letting you do it with your teeth intact.”
Markell’s face drains of whatever confidence he had left and he disappears into the crowd with his drink still in his hand and his ego bleeding all over the rooftop.
Only then does Griffin turn back to me. The possessive fury in his expression softens the second his eyes meet mine, but not completely. It remains there beneath the concern, restraint, and every complicated thing between us.
But all I can hear is his voice calling me his woman.
She is mine.
“I appreciate what you just did, but that does not give you the right to call me your woman.” I step back because if Griffin reaches for me—if he so much as looks like he might— I don’t know whether I’ll shove him away or fall apart against him.
“You don’t get to claim me, Griffin. And you most definitely don’t get to say that I belong to you when you’ve spent so much time making me feel unwanted. ”
His face falls. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” My throat tightens, but anger keeps me upright. “And you know what’s worse? For one second, I wanted you to mean it.”
His eyes darken. I hate that he looks wrecked. And I hate that it affects me.
But there is no version of this that doesn’t hurt.
“I did mean it, Trouble—”
My breath catches and he winces.
The rest fades into the background.
Trouble?
No.
The thought appears so suddenly I almost reject it on instinct.
Impossible.
It can’t be.