Chapter 1 Lesley #2
I shook my head and decided to get this over with.
I wanted to hit the club later, celebrate the ascension, not hang around a bunch of old niggas all night.
The men followed me toward the basement stairs, our footsteps loud on the steps.
I hit the basement stairs and met them around the man tied to a chair in the center of the concrete floor.
Blood had already dried on his face from earlier.
I slipped off my jacket and hung it on the hook. I wasn’t ruining a five-thousand-dollar suit for anyone.
“Cyrus, I’m disappointed in you, my nigga.”
“Grim, man, look, I got jammed up. They got to talking about they knew this and that.”
“And what did I say?”
“Handle it.”
“Right, I said, handle that shit. But nah—you turned into Master Splinter in that bitch. Running your fucking mouth.”
Cyrus stammered, eyes already swollen, fear written all over him.
I faced the room, steady. “I don’t like repeating myself. Once is instruction. Twice is disrespect. And disrespect? That gets you put in the dirt. Let this be clear—rattin’ or disrespect don’t breathe long in my world.”
I rolled up my sleeves and looked back at Cyrus. “So I’m really curious, how the fuck you forgot that. We brought you in, fed your nappy-headed ass wife and kids, and gave you a seat at our table. And this is how you repay us?”
My fist crashed into his jaw. The crack echoed off concrete, sharp and final. Six-five, gym every day, I was in dangerous shape, and he felt all of it. He tried to form words, but I kept swinging until words weren’t an option anymore.
“Let this be a warning to anyone who decides to go against the grain.”
His face was a mess when I grabbed a plastic bag, slipped it over his head, and wrapped the tape tight until the roll ran out. He gasped. Reached for a God that wasn’t coming to save him. His body thudded to the floor, and I felt the pent-up aggression leave my body.
As I exhaled, glass shattered somewhere behind the racks, sharp enough to slice through the silence.
I froze. My father’s eyes cut to mine. He was already moving toward the stairs, but I knew before he did who’d been down here.
I’d caught her delectable, unforgettable perfume earlier in the night, soft under the heavier colognes and cigars.
Now it lingered over the broken glass, pulling focus when I needed it most.
“Gentlemen,” my father said. “Excuse us while we take care of this.”
The crash had sent her running. By the time we reached the kitchen, she was standing there—bottle of wine clutched tight, face flushed but chin high, like posture could erase what she’d just seen.
He turned to me, “Handle it,” he added flatly.
Karyn was mid–mob-girlfriend performance, her voice high and grating. “Do you know what you just broke? That wine was worth more than you’ve probably ever seen in your pitiful life!”
“Pitiful? Bitch who is pitiful?” the planner shot back, head snapping toward her. Fire under fear. I shook my head at my future wife. She was a firecracker. I fought hard to hide the grin on my face.
“Karyn,” I snapped, cutting through her tirade. Miss Nosey looked like she wanted to light Karyn up so more, but kept it professional. “Back up and shut up. Nothing in this motherfucking house belongs to you. Figure out where your place is and stay there.”
Karyn’s mouth clamped shut, but not before her eyes flicked over the planner—sharp, calculating, like she was filing away the whole exchange for later. Most would’ve missed it. I didn’t.
She opened her mouth, caught my face, and closed it. My father set a hand on her shoulder and steered her aside, leaving the planner stiff and shell-shocked. Her eyes darted once, quick, like she was weighing whether to run or hold her ground. Smart enough to choose stillness.
“Everyone saw you go down there,” my father said to her, voice low and edged, an edge I didn’t like.
Not when it was aimed at my future wife.
She wasn’t built for this world, but she was standing there anyway, hands steady even with eyes on her. That edge in his tone made me want to snap, not at her, but at him. If there was going to be fear in her eyes, it would be because of me. Not because Legend Grimson pressed it into her.
“Question is, what exactly did you see?”
I stepped closer, shielding her from my father, heat rolling off me before she could answer. “And more importantly, what are you going to do about it?”
“I didn’t see anything, Mr. Grimson.” Her voice caught for half a second before she steadied it. She tried to move, but I didn’t let her. I caught her at the waist and guided her back, making it clear she wasn’t slipping away from this so easily.
“Not so fast,” I murmured in her ear. Her heart was racing; her spine stayed straight. I knew grown men who would’ve pissed themselves right there. “A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be sneaking around in basements. I could smell your perfume from across the room.”
“Huh?”
“Aye, give us some privacy,” I ordered. Everyone in the kitchen scurried off, leaving just me and my new obsession.
“If you can, huh, you can hear pretty baby. What’s your name?”
Her chest rose and fell. She pulled her breath under control. “Co…Colecion.”
“That’s beautiful,” I said evenly with a smile. “Why were you down there? Looking for me?”
“Why would I be looking for you? I went for wine. Karyn asked for a specific bottle from the cellar. It’s not my fault you—” She cut herself off.
Good.
“Shh.” I softened the word, not the order. I stepped in closer, my voice low. “You don’t wander in my world by accident. And once you’re in, there’s no walking back out.”
Her chin lifted a fraction, she wanted to argue but thought better of it. I saw it anyway. She’d heard every word, even if she wouldn’t give me the satisfaction of a reply.
“I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to show me some identification. Can you follow directions, Colecion?”
She nodded. I opened the door and let her pass.
The scent lifted off her skin and tried to pull me off focus.
But it wasn’t just her perfume. She walked away, and her hips swaying damn near made me forget what I was supposed to be doing.
I watched every step. Fear lived in her pulse, but pride kept it hidden.
That was what hooked me more than anything I could smell or touch.
She grabbed her purse. I kept my eyes on her. Fucked up as it was, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen — even terrified.
“I hope you’re not staring at my ass while you hold my life in your hands,” she said without looking back. “Niggas, I swear.”
“We got mouth too, huh?” I took her license when she handed it over. “Colecion Alexandria Outlaw. August twenty-first, ninety-two. Five-three. Light brown eyes. Eight forty-five Baxter Avenue.”
“What do you want me to say? I won’t breathe a word. I don’t even know what I saw down there.”
“What did you see?”
“Nothing,” she said, planting her heel with a pout.
I smiled and returned the ID. I let silence sit between us as she went from attitude to confusion to attitude again.
“I didn’t see anything.”
“Smart woman. But if I change my mind, know you left me no choice. You weren’t supposed to see what you saw. Now both our lives are complicated. I’ll be in touch.”
“Mr. Grimson, what does that mean?”
“Lesley. It means you wake up at eight forty-five, Baxter, tomorrow. Don’t make me regret that, Coco.”
“Coco?”
“You heard me. Enjoy the rest of your evening, pretty baby. Drive safe.”
She moved with grace as she left the kitchen, still trying not to show me any fear. It was too late. I’d already seen the wheels turning in her head. As long as she did as I asked, there wouldn’t be any problems.
I made it back to the foyer as my father wrapped up the meeting. Men filtered out with promises to make the transition smooth. I shook hands while clocking her through the window, sliding into a black Camaro. I caught the plate and called Malice to get me all the information he could.
“Son,” my father said at my elbow as the last taillights slipped through the gate. “Everything handled?”
“Clean as it’s gon’ get.”
He studied my face. “And the woman?”
“What about her?”
“Don’t play dumb, Lesley. She saw something she shouldn’t.”
“I handled it.”
“How? Because from here, I see a loose end that could put us all away.”
“She’s not going to be a problem.”
He stepped in close, voice barely a whisper. “Pretty women have been the downfall of smarter men than you. The second you let your dick make decisions, you end up dead or federal.”
“I hear you. But this is my life, not yours. I said she good, so she’s good until I say otherwise.”
“I saw how you looked at her. Like you wanted to take her home.” His mouth went hard. “She’s not a socialite you can wine and dine. She’s a witness to a murder. You know what we do with witnesses.”
“Yeah,” I said, meeting his eyes. “But we’re not handling her like that. I said leave it alone.”
His jaw tightened, hand smoothing down his tie. “One wrong word and everything we built dies with her testimony. No loose ends, Lesley. Rule number one. Always has been.”
I leaned in just enough. “And now I’m the one writing the rules. I hear you, Pops—but this? I’ll handle it my way.”
I walked off as he continued. I wasn’t listening to shit he had to say. He could repeat himself all he wanted. I’d made my mind up for the night. She was safe. Mine. And possibly my first order of business as the head of this family.
I should’ve been heading to Club Velvet, celebrating the ascension, raising a glass to the crown I’d just inherited. Instead, I stood there replaying the way her plush lip poked out as if I was the issue. Her perfume still clinging to the doorway like it had a lease in my head.
Taiwan appeared at my elbow, jacket already off, chain swinging. “Nigga let's turn up tonight. Club Velvet, your section, your city. We celebrating.”
“Yeah,” I said it without moving.