Chapter 27 #2
He walked over with a smug look and held out a small velvet box. “I want you to wear this tonight.”
He flipped it open. Nestled inside was a thin gold chain with a diamond-encrusted M charm.
My stomach twisted. “I’m not wearing that.”
“It’s not a request,” he said firmly, removing the necklace from the box. He stepped behind me and clasped it around my neck.
His breath hit the side of my face, warm and laced with bourbon. “Now everyone will know who you belong to.”
My fists curled at my sides, bile rising in my throat as he came back around, pulling another box from his pocket. This one held a gaudy, platinum eternity wedding band with huge emerald-cut diamonds that screamed “new money.” My jaw went slack.
“You’re not serious.”
He didn’t even blink. “You’re my wife, remember?”
Every part of me screamed to kick him in the nuts, but I remembered what happened that morning. With gritted teeth, I let him slide the ring onto my finger.
It was tacky and loud. Just like him.
“Perfect,” he said as he admired it.
I exhaled slowly and swallowed down my anger. “Let’s just get this over with,” I muttered, shoving past him and walking out of the room.
He caught up with me at the door, where one of his ever-present security flunkies was posted, peering down at me through dark sunglasses. He didn’t even blink as I screwed up my face and flipped him off.
“Why you got all these secret service ass niggas around?” I asked once we were in the elevator.
Marcus looked over, clearly surprised that I was speaking to him unprompted. He adjusted his bow tie with a slight smirk. “You do enough grimy shit on the way up, you tend to be a walking target. Comes with the territory.”
* * *
Hudson Hall was one of those places every New Yorker knew about but very few ever stepped inside. It was a historic landmark reserved for the city’s elite and hosting the most exclusive events. Tickets for something like this were easily a thousand a pop.
The gala was in full swing by the time we arrived. News vans lined the street outside, cameras flashed, as paparazzi and reporters swarmed guests for pictures and sound bites. The moment Marcus got out of the limo, an Asian reporter shoved a mic in his face.
“Mr. Stokes! Mr. Stokes! How does it feel to be one of tonight’s honorees?”
I took my time getting out, trying to avoid being in frame, but he caught my arm and pulled me into his side with a practiced smile.
“Truly, it’s an incredible feeling, Janice,” he said smoothly. “I’m honored that Councilman Dorsey chose me for such a prestigious award. But if you’ll excuse us, we need to head inside.”
He guided me towards the steps without giving me a chance to pull away.
Inside, jazz music floated through the grand lobby, as servers in crisp white uniforms weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne. I discreetly snatched a glass and tossed it back, hoping the alcohol would dull my irritation.
Marcus, on the other hand, was in his element. He worked the room, shaking hands and schmoozing with what felt like every politician and socialite in the city. I trailed behind him, wishing he’d at least let me sit down.
“This is my wife, Jasmine,” he announced to every person we walked up to.
I wanted to throw up each time the words left his mouth. After a few hours, faces started to blur together, and my cheeks were sore from the fake smiling. I was over it.
“Do I need to talk to all these people? My feet are killing me,” I said, leaning closer to him as another balding politician and his mistress walked away.
His expression softened, and for a split second, I caught a glimpse of the Marcus I used to know. “Go sit by the bar. I’ll get you when it’s time to eat.”
Finally. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I dropped his hand and headed straight for the bar. The second my ass hit the stool, I sighed in relief. These damn stilettos were killing me—I don’t know why I let Amber talk me into buying them.
I ordered a cocktail and scanned the room. All the designer gowns and suits, the laughter, the power in this room, and not one person in here could do shit for me. Even if they wanted to, Marcus had his claws in too deep—nobody was about to cross him.
“Well, this makes my job easier,” a smooth, silky voice purred next to me.
I turned and locked eyes with a dark-skinned woman who looked like she’d just stepped off a couture runway. She was the epitome of a bad bitch—rocking a silvery blonde fade and a bronze-colored dress that gave her an almost ethereal glow.
“Do I know you?” I asked warily.
“Not exactly.” Her lips curled into a sly smile when she spotted the necklace resting against my collarbone. It widened as her gaze shifted to my hand, catching the ring before I could move it into my lap.
“Oh, he’s gonna love that,” she drawled with a soft chuckle, gently taking my wrist. Her cool fingers turned my hand over as she studied the ring, then brushed the pendant.
“Who?”
“Money,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
My breath hitched. Money. I opened my mouth, ready to shoot off a dozen questions. Before I could, she closed her hand around mine.
“Shh,” she said softly. “Just listen. Can you do that?”
I nodded stiffly, my eyes darted to the crowd to search for Marcus.
“Good.” Her voice was almost soothing. “Now drink and keep your eyes forward.”
I’d all but forgotten the drink I’d ordered. I took another sip.
“When they seat you for dinner,” she continued. “Wait ten minutes, then excuse yourself to the bathroom. I’ll meet you there and explain the rest, okay?”
Movement in the crowd caught my attention—Marcus was making his way toward me. I nodded quickly, but when I turned back to the woman, she was already gone.
“Who were you talking to?” Marcus asked, looking at the chair she’d just been in.
I blinked blankly. “Huh? Who are you talking about? The bartender?”
He narrowed his eyes. “That woman with blonde hair,” he pressed.
“Oh.” I waved a hand dismissively, bringing the drink to my lips. “I don’t know, she was complimenting my dress.”
“Hm.” He didn’t look convinced. “They’re about to seat us for dinner.”
He hooked his arm in mine and led me through the crowded ballroom. Around us, the air was filled with chatter and clinking glasses, as the jazz band continued to play. I felt myself pushed into another guest, as someone bumped into Marcus hard.
“Watch where you’re—” Marcus snapped, but the words died on his lips as the man turned to face him.
“‘Sup, bitch ass nigga?” Cash grinned.
My heart sped up with a familiar giddiness when I saw him.
Cash looked too damn good in his black suit, his open-faced grills gleaming under the light of the chandeliers.
His hair was freshly lined up, his beard trimmed and moisturized like he just stepped out of the chair.
The iced-out watch on his wrist only added to his aura. He looked every bit of a boss.
Marcus tensed and glanced around, but folks weren’t paying us any mind.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Marcus hissed, keeping his voice low.
Cash shrugged. “I heard they were honoring dirty ass niggas tonight. Figured I’d pull up and see for myself.”
Finally, he looked at me. His gaze dragged over me hungrily until he saw the necklace. I watched the heat in his eyes turn to something colder. His jaw ticked when he saw the wedding band. I looked away and instinctively curled my fingers.
I wanted to say something. To explain that Marcus made me wear it, but the words wouldn’t come.
Marcus’s grip on my arm tightened. “You can’t do shit here,” he gritted.
“And neither can you,” Cash said. “You good, baby?”
I nodded, but my heart felt like it might pound its way out of my chest.
A voice boomed over the mic. “Alright, you gorgeous, beautiful people. The powers that be would love for everyone to find their seats so we can get dinner started.”
The dance floor began to clear as guests brushed past us to get to their tables. Marcus used the commotion to drag me away, but I could feel Cash’s eyes burning into my back as we walked off.
At our table, Marcus mumbled something about a phone call and stormed off. It was clear Cash’s appearance had thrown him off.
I was left sitting with a bunch of strangers, nodding and smiling through introductions, but my mind was elsewhere.
Ten minutes. I needed to meet the woman, but without a watch or phone, I had no idea how much time had passed.
Fuck it. Marcus was gone. If I was going to take a risk, now was the time.
“Excuse me,” I murmured, sliding my chair back.
I moved quickly through the stragglers on the dance floor and slipped out of the ballroom and into the lobby.
A large hand grabbed my arm. I spun around to find one of Marcus’s security towering over me.
“What?” I snapped, masking my nerves with irritation. “Y’all gotta escort me to the bathroom? Are you shitting me?”
He didn’t respond. Just narrowed his eyes as he tapped his earpiece.
“She says she needs to use the bathroom,” he said flatly. “Do I need to go with her?”
I scowled as he listened to whoever was on the other end.
“Copy that,” he said, shoving me forward. “Looks like I do.”
I rolled my eyes and yanked my arm from his grip. “I don’t know where you think I’m going,” I said. “I don’t even have a fucking phone.”
He scoffed and posted outside the bathroom door as I pushed it open.
“Five minutes,” he called after me.
I flipped him off and let the door slam behind me.
The restroom was empty except for a woman washing her hands at a sink. She smiled politely and dried her hands before walking out.
I paced for a few seconds before ducking into a stall with a sigh. “Might as well go while I’m here,” I muttered to myself.
A loud bang rattled the door. “Hurry up!” the guard barked.
“Fucking relax!” I yelled back as I headed to the sink to wash my hands.
Where was she?
Muffled voices came from the other side of the door. My heart jumped in my throat as the woman from the bar strolled in, her heels clicking against the tile floor. She checked her lipstick in the mirror.
“I saw Cash,” I whispered.
She laughed dryly as she shook her head. “That nigga can’t help but showboat.” She pulled a small phone out of her clutch and handed it to me.
“Don’t make any calls from it,” she said sharply. “But answer if it rings.”
I took it from her and slipped it into my bag. “What’s your name?”
Indecision flickered in her eyes before she finally answered. “Nairobi.”
“Nairobi,” I repeated softly.
“Jasmine!” Marcus’s voice boomed from outside the door.
Nairobi tipped her head towards the exit, signaling for me to leave. I smoothed down my dress, squared my back, and pushed the door open.
“I hope she’s worth it.” I heard her mutter under her breath as I walked out.
Marcus snatched my arm the second I was within reach. “We’re leaving,” he barked.
“What? We didn’t even eat,” I protested, stumbling to keep up. “What about your award?”
“Fuck that award,” he gritted. “Your nigga trying to start some shit tonight.”
I dug my heels into the floor and forced him to stop. “Are you scared?” I asked, crossing my arms.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m not fucking scared, Jasmine. But I’m not doing this bullshit here with him tonight.”
“But you both said you couldn’t touch each other here,” I reminded him. “You think leaving is going to make a difference? He won’t stop until you’re dead.”
“Mr. Stokes!” We turned to see a frazzled young woman in heels rushing towards us.
Her light brown cheeks were flushed as she caught her breath. “Oh, thank God! They’re about to start honoring the recipients. You need to get back to your table.”
Marcus gave her a phony apologetic smile. “Tell the Councilman I’m very sorry, but my wife’s not feeling well. We’ve got to go.”
I perked up. “But I feel better!” I batted my eyelashes at him, knowing damn well he wouldn’t act up in front of the Councilman’s staff. He wanted to play? Let’s fucking play.
“Your stomach, babe.” His voice was tight.
“Must’ve been something I ate, but I took care of it in the bathroom,” I chirped, patting my stomach. “I wouldn’t want you to miss your big moment. This award means so much to you, babe.” I stroked his face.
The woman’s shoulders relaxed as she let out a relieved sigh. “Thank God. The Councilman would’ve been really upset if you left now.” She glanced nervously at Marcus, like her job depended on him staying put.
I squeezed his hand and started back toward the ballroom with a bright smile plastered on my face. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” My grip on his hand tightened enough to let him know I wasn’t backing down. Fuck with me if you want to.