Chapter 1 Lesley #4
“Shad, I’m okay,” she said, still looking at me. “Thanks for the coffee. Text me later if you can help with next weekend.”
“There will be a next weekend, correct?” she asked, looking up at me with soft eyes. She was enjoying this.
I nodded. Rashad grabbed his keys he tried to hold my stare. And I ain’t let him.
“Coco, get this nigga outta here before he’s my next victim.”
“Rashad, please just go. I’m fine, he’s harmless.”
He left, and I laughed at being harmless. I took a seat on her couch and leaned back.
“You can’t kick in my door,” she said in a whisper.
“I can, Coco. I did. The real question is—why did I feel entitled to? Figure that out, and you’ll know exactly where we stand.”
Her whisper carried more bite than volume, and I liked that. She thought she could shame me into backing off. But women didn’t set the pace with me—I set it. And I wanted her unsettled, thinking about me every time she looked at that busted frame.
“You good?” I asked her, softer without meaning to be.
“I was,” she said, “until you put my door on the floor. What a psycho.”
“A better one will be installed by noon,” I said. “That’s why I took a seat. Sit.”
She came around and took a seat on the couch, maintaining distance between us. “Why did you kick in my door? That’s embarrassing.”
“What’s embarrassing is you having a man in here like you didn’t meet me last night.”
“You, sir, are already being a thorn in my side.” Her voice carried irritation. “I’ve got things to do. Leave once my door is fixed.”
I watched her walk away and bit my lip. I liked her stubborn ass way too much. Why did I feel bad about upsetting her?
Within fifteen minutes, she returned wearing a gray-and-highlighter-green Von Dutch sweat suit.
It wasn’t what I expected, but dressed-down Colecion was dangerous territory for my self-control.
The way she pulled off that slicked-back ponytail had me shifting in my seat.
Her signature scent floated through the air.
I stood, needing to put distance between us before I did something stupid like kiss her to see if sparks flew like I knew they would.
“You’re lucky you’re as beautiful as you are. You need an attitude adjustment, though.”
“And let me guess, you’re just the man to give it to me?”
The challenge in her voice made my jaw clench. She was testing me, and we both knew it.
“I have to go,” she said, crossing her arms. “I told you I wasn’t going to say anything, and I meant that. Last night is forgotten. Unless you’re here for another reason?”
I didn’t say another word as I headed toward the door. I’d already shown too much of my hand, acted too impulsively. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure Rashad was interested in women, but that hadn’t stopped me from losing my mind over him being in her space.
“Malice,” I called out, “she’s your responsibility. If she so much as breaks a nail, I want to know about it.”
“Yes, sir.”
I walked back to my car, my mind already shifting into business mode. She was under my watch until further notice, but I had other problems to handle. My phone was buzzing with missed calls from my father; this morning was about to get more complicated.
As I pulled away from her house, I caught her watching me through her front window. Even with a broken door and a morning attitude, she made me flash a smile. I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle this shit, but I was damn sure going to try.
When I pulled into my father’s estate thirty minutes later, I was still wound up from kicking in Colecion’s door.
The image of her in that purple camisole, the way she’d stepped between Rashad and me as if she could actually stop me—it stuck.
She’d moved like she wasn’t afraid, like protecting her people came naturally.
I respected that, even if it pissed me off.
The housekeeper let me in, and I found Pops in his study. He was alone, papers spread across his desk, a glass of bourbon already sweating beside him.
“Son,” he said, looking up. “We need to discuss the situation from last night.”
I closed the door behind me and dropped into a chair. “Go ahead,” I said, knowing full well I wasn’t planning on listening. He was doing too much summoning me.
“I heard you swearing you’d handled it,” Pops said, arching a brow. “But I also heard Paco was dispatched over to Colecion Outlaw’s this morning to fix a busted door. You breaking into women’s houses now?”
I smirked. “That’s what you called me here for? Property damage?”
“Lesley…” He shook his head, giving me that tired-parent look. “Please tell me you’re thinking with the right head.”
I leaned forward. “Why is everybody so damn concerned with what I do with my dick? I’m grown. She’s grown. I made my mind up…she’s not going to be a problem.”
Pops leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Okay, then let me speak to Grim.”
I scoffed. There he went again. Doing too much. “Here you go.”
Whenever he wanted to speak to the reaper in me, he called me Grim. And yeah, I could be that. Do crazy shit. But with her? Those thoughts hadn’t even crossed my mind. That wasn’t what God was saying to me.
“You let her walk out of here last night and then showed up at her house this morning to kick her door in. That tells me everything I need to know about how you're thinking. Grim that don’t change the code we live by.”
“I hear you.” My tone stayed respectful but steady. “As of last night, I make the rules. Eliminating her makes more problems than it solves. She’s got friends, a career. People would come looking.”
Pops nodded once. “I agree.”
“See? I can think with both heads just fine.”
His eyes narrowed, already knowing I had something up my sleeve. “So, what’s your play?”
“Marriage.”
The word landed heavily between us. I knew how he felt about marriage, and I knew he felt my focus should be on business, but with or without his support, this was the time I was on.
“Spousal privilege,” I explained. “She can’t be forced to testify. And killing the wife of the family head? That’s not just sloppy, that’s war. Bloodshed, and it wouldn’t be ours.”
He studied me for a long time.
“Smart. Will she agree?”
“She will,” I said, more confident than I felt. “Because the alternative is worse—for both of us.”
He set his glass down. “You got feelings for this girl, son?”
I met his eyes. “Would that be a problem?”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Might make things easier. But you just met her, nigga.”
“When did you know with Ma?” I asked. Watched his face change.
He cleared his throat. “A marriage of convenience could work.”
I rolled my eyes at him dodging, like always. He never liked talking about my mother, avoided it at all costs.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“You’ve got a week. That’s how long before word spreads we’ve got a loose end. Your uncle’s proud, but bullshit is his middle name. He won’t hesitate to try you.”
“I understand. But respectfully, fuck Tommy.”
“Good. Then go handle it. And son…” he lifted his glass, eyes steady, “if you’re going to do this, do it right. A woman like her will respond better if you turn on the charm. Fear won’t be enough.”
As I left the estate, I pulled out my phone and called my jeweler, Bakari. I had a week to convince Colecion that marriage was her best option—and mine.
The game was about to change, and I intended to win for both of us.