5.0 #3
"What was that about?" I asked, not sharp but not soft either.
He smirked, tapping the wheel with one ringed finger. "My uncle. He's got this little thing tonight-announcement party, networking, whatever. I told him a while back I'd come through, but it slipped my mind."
I arched a brow. "And now?"
"And now I'm thinking it don't gotta be a whole night. Fifteen minutes, tops. Shake hands, show face, dip. If you don't mind."
I looked at him then, really looked. His jaw was set, but his tone was smooth, like he thought I'd say yes because people always did.
"Announcement party," I repeated.
"Mm." His grin curved slow, coaxing. "You'll be the best-looking thing in the room. Trust me."
I crossed my legs, latex creaking faintly. "That's not what I asked."
He chuckled under his breath, like my irritation amused him. "It's family, Mira. Not business. Just come through with me for a little. Then it's all you. Besos, wine, whatever you want."
I let the silence stretch, my reflection flashing in the window as the city blurred by. I didn't like surprises. Didn't like walking into rooms I hadn't prepared myself for. But the way he said it, like it was already decided, pressed against me anyway.
Finally, I exhaled. "Fifteen minutes."
His smile widened, sharp and victorious. "That's my girl."
I turned back to the glass before he could see the way my mouth curved.
The car curved off the main drag, sliding into a quieter stretch of the city I barely recognized. Streetlights here burned brighter, whiter, like they'd been cleaned on purpose. The sidewalks were wider, polished, lined with planters too perfect to have grown there naturally.
Kian had one hand on the wheel, the other draped loose against his thigh, fingers tapping out a rhythm only he knew. The stereo was low, some Meek track humming under the engine, bass barely shaking the seats.
"You ever been over this way before?" he asked, glancing at me without really turning.
"Not unless I got lost," I said. My voice came out lighter than I felt.
He smirked. "That tracks. You the type to pull over and ask directions?"
I shot him a look. "I have an iPhone, Kian."
"Still. You look like you'd rather fight the GPS than admit you're lost."
I tried not to smile, but it slipped out anyway. "And what do you look like?"
"The type that never gets lost." He grinned, sharp and sure.
I rolled my eyes, but my chest warmed in spite of myself.
A moment passed in easy silence before he spoke again. "What you tell Alina?"
"That mommy was going out," I said. "She was too busy making Julian watch Encanto again to care."
He chuckled. "That's your fault. You the one raised her on all that princess stuff."
"She's three. She can like whatever she wants."
"She gon' have standards too high by kindergarten," he teased. "Some boy gon' bring her a crayon and she gon' be like, 'Where's the castle?'"
I laughed in spite of myself, shaking my head. "Leave her alone."
"I'm just saying," he said, his voice softening a fraction. "She's gonna be something else when she's older. You already know."
The words settled heavier than I expected. I turned my face to the window, watching the city bleed into sharper lines.
By the time we turned into a gated lot, my stomach had tightened without me realizing. This wasn't the kind of "little thing" Kian made it sound like. The building ahead rose in sharp glass lines, every window glowing gold against the night. The kind of place meant for cameras, not cousins.
He rolled the window down, gave the security guy a nod. No names, no ID check-just a look, a nod, and the gate buzzed open.
We eased past rows of black cars, sleek metal lined like a showroom. Drivers in suits leaned on hoods, talking low into earpieces. Not the corner kind of crowd. This was something else.
I shifted in my seat, smoothing my dress against my thighs. "Kian, what is this?"
"Told you. Family thing." His tone was light, but I saw the way his hand tightened on the wheel.
"Family doesn't usually rent out half the skyline."
He smirked, pulling into a spot near the entrance. "Depends on the family."
The closer we got, the more the night pressed in on me.
The building itself was glass and steel, lit up like a jewel box in the middle of the block.
Cars lined the street, black SUVs with tinted windows, valets moving fast in sharp uniforms.
Inside, I could see slivers of chandeliers, flashes of sequins and suits.
I glanced at Kian as he pulled into the circle drive, calm like this was nothing.
That was the part I couldn't make sense of.
I'd known him as the hustler-the man with rubber-banded stacks, a gun on his hip, always one phone call from having to "pull up" on somebody. The dope boy aura clung to him like cologne, the kind of edge that made people lower their eyes when he walked by.
So how did that same man have family who threw parties in places like this? Who could afford crystal chandeliers and valet lines and tuxedoed servers like it was casual?
It didn't add up.
For a second, the thought made me hesitate, heels clicking against the curb as we stepped out. If money like this was in his bloodline, what was he still chasing corners for?
Kian reached for my waist, his touch pulling me back into motion before I could answer my own question.
Inside, the air shifted the second we stepped through the glass doors.
Cool, perfumed, expensive. The lobby opened into a ballroom dressed in velvet drapes and white florals so tall they looked like they grew from the floor.
Waiters in black ties floated by with trays of champagne flutes, smiling at guests who looked like they belonged in magazines.
I adjusted my clutch against my hip, fighting the urge to turn back around.