Chapter 33
It was Saturday night, and the city was lit.
Traffic crawled through downtown while expensive cars lined the city streets, and everybody who was somebody seemed to be outside tonight.
The art show was being held in a glass building downtown with valet out front, red velvet ropes stretching across the entrance, and a clipboard at the door.
This was definitely the type of place that didn’t accept walk-ins.
Tasha and Kenji stepped out of the black SUV and were immediately swarmed by paparazzi.
Cameras flashed. Voices called out his name.
But all eyes shifted when they saw her. She wore a floor-length emerald dress that hugged her curves just right, with a slit running high up her thigh, almost revealing too much.
This wasn’t her lane. The lights. The cameras. The attention. All of it felt foreign.
But she was here.
For him.
Kenji placed a hand on the small of her back as they moved through the flashes.
“You good?” he murmured without looking at her, eyes forward like he was used to being watched.
Tasha nodded, but her heart was thumping. “I’m straight.”
She wasn’t. Not really. But she looked the part.
Inside, everything smelled like money and expensive taste.
Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling.
Waiters floated around in black vests with trays of champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres she couldn’t pronounce.
The crowd was a blend of art collectors, athletes, models, and influencers, all mingling as they’d never struggled in their DNA.
Kenji leaned in close, lips brushing her temple. “Just follow my lead. You already killin’ ‘em.”
She smirked, nerves easing just a little. “Boy, I feel like I’m in an episode of Rich As Fuck.”
“That’s ‘cause you are,” he said, chuckling. “Only difference is you real.”
As they walked through the gallery, all heads turned.
Everyone was trying to figure out who Tasha was.
Small chatter could be heard in the distance, but they were unfazed.
They stopped in front of a massive abstract piece, with blood-red paint slashed across a black canvas like violence frozen in time.
“What do you think it means?” he asked, taking a sip from his wine glass as he glared at the piece.
“Umm… I guess pain…I dunno,” she said softly. “Masked as power. Maybe…”
Kenji looked at her, amazed at her answer.
“That’s exactly what the artist said in the catalog,” he muttered. “You sure you don’t do this art shit on the low?”
She smirked again, adjusting her head wrap.
Before he could say more, Kenji’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it quick, jaw tightening just slightly.
Tasha didn’t ask, but she clocked the shift.
“Everythin’ straight?”
He slid the phone back in. “Yeah. Just some noise.” He kissed her on the side of her head again, massaging her shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. I want you to focus on having a good time tonight.”
What he didn’t tell her? The photos that were snapped of them from outside had already started doing numbers. One of the big sports blogs had it posted with a messy ass caption that read:
“Kenji Riggs spotted at VIP art show with mystery woman. #Whoisthiswoman?”
He blew out a frustrated breath, and the two drifted toward a quieter corner of the gallery, away from the buzz of conversation and champagne clinks. It was just them now, standing in front of an art piece that looked like storm clouds hovering over the sea.
Kenji leaned against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-empty glass.
“You really never done anything like this before?” he asked, eyes still on the painting.
Tasha shook her head. “Mm-mm. Nope! Closest I ever got was them ‘Sip-N-Paint’ joints where everybody paints the same black woman with the afro or a wine glass.”
He laughed. “Aye, those still count.”
She gave him a look. “Lemme find out you be at some Sip-N-Paint joints.”
He smiled. “Alright. Maybe one or two.”
The two sat down on a small bench in front of a canvas of a small boy with his head down. The gallery was starting to get crowded now.
Kenji cleared his throat. “So… I wanted to invite you out to my game tomorrow in Atlanta. You and mom, since both of you are able to fly now,” he said, as he held out a game pass.
Tasha looked at the pass for a moment, hesitating before answering. “But I don’t have a plane ticket. It's so last-minute, Kenji.”
He shrugged, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t worry about that. I just need a yes. And I’ll handle the rest.”
She took the ticket from his hand, letting out a small laugh, the kind that finally reached her eyes. “You such a dork.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, letting the steady strength of him anchor her for a second. “You ever get tired of the celebrity life, Kenji?”
Taking another small sip of his wine, he muttered. “Honestly. Yeah, I do. People following your every move can become a bit much. Sometimes I just want to go to the store or mall and be a regular person.”
Tasha blinked. “Awww! You tired of being in the flashing lights.”
He burst out laughing, drawing people's attention to them. “You are something else, Ms. Lady.”
Kenji’s laughter was warm, a stark contrast to the sharp, judgmental silences Tasha was used to. For a moment, she forgot about everything she’d been going through. She just felt like a princess talking to her royal prince.
“I’m serious, though,” Kenji said, his face softening as the laughter died down. He grabbed one of her hands, lacing it with his. “I enjoy spending time with you. I don't feel like you with me for the fame. I feel like you see me past all that.”
Tasha rubbed his knuckles. “Really?”
“Heck yeah, really,” Kenji said, as admiration filled his chest. He admired Tasha so much. Her beauty, her strength, her fight within. Kenji was looking at Tasha as if she were the only person in the room.
“You’ve been through a lot, Tasha,” he admitted, lifting her chin.
“Most people would’ve thrown the towel in and gave up.
Would’ve let the 'ugly' win. But you? You’re sitting here in this sexy ass dress, shutting down the whole damn gallery, like you weren’t fighting a war inside your own body recently.
That's the realest shit I've ever seen.”
Tasha felt a swollen lump form in her throat. She was nervous about being seen. With Juelz, she was a queen because of how she handled her business, how she kept the house, how she stood ten toes down during his chaos.
But with Kenji?
She felt like she was being loved just for surviving.
“You make it sound so easy,” Tasha said, her voice barely a whisper. “Being a warrior is tiring, Kenji. Sometimes I just want to... stay in bed and hide.”
“Nah,” he replied, closing the small gap between them. “Don’t hide. You are too beautiful to hide from the world.”
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers for a brief, quiet moment of peace in the middle of the high-society chaos. His lips brushed hers, soft, and her breath caught. Her hand gently touched his chest. And then she pulled back. Her eyes were wide, pulse racing.
“We can’t” she implied, looking down at her lap.
Kenji didn’t force it. He nodded once, giving her space but without moving away. “Okay.” His voice was low, steady. “But just know… I've been wanting to do that all night. I couldn't resist that urge.”
Tasha looked away, swallowing hard. Because damn.
She secretly wanted to kiss him as well.
From the moment Kenji picked her up with that fresh haircut and smelling like a world of peace.
He was the kind of sexy that made her weak.
His dark skin, his height, the calm power behind his every move.
Kenji was the type of fine that made the seat of your panties disrespect you.
And that kiss?
It wasn’t even a deep kiss. But it still had her whole soul sitting up straight…even though it wanted to fold.