Chapter 3 Lesley
The moment we stepped outside Sasha Roe I felt that familiar charge that came after closing a deal. No going back from this one. It ran through me the same way blood did. My hand found the small of Colecion's back as we walked toward the valet, and just like that, she was moving under my lead.
The night air was warm, jasmine in the breeze, music spilling from other spots along the strip. Normal Saturday night energy. But nothing about tonight was normal. Not after what she’d just signed. Not after the way she’d met my eyes across that table, steady when most people broke.
Letting her go would’ve been the clean play.
But I don’t do clean when the alternative looks like her.
She wasn’t just another witness. She was pressure-tested, held her line while the world folded around her.
That’s worth more than silence. More than fear.
Hell, maybe even worth the crown I’d just taken.
“Coco,” I said low, just for her. “You good?”
She nodded, stayed close. I knew she was conflicted even after agreeing.
This was going to be an adjustment, but I genuinely wanted her to be okay.
I wanted more than survival out of her. I wanted the parts nobody else had seen.
The weight she carried like the bag lady Erykah Badu sang about.
The losses she never said out loud. I wanted the fight and the fire and the softness she tried to hide under it.
Somewhere along the way, she decided solitude was safer. Maybe even what she deserved. But she was wrong about that. Dead wrong.
And I was gonna be the one to prove it.
Truth was, Colecion had been living in my head rent-free since that night.
I was consumed. When Malice called with updates—Pilates at seven, VHS tapes from that dusty store like it was ‘98—I stopped everything to listen.
She moved through life like it still had magic, and what was supposed to be a problem had become a path neither of us saw coming.
And that night in the basement? I wasn’t supposed to see her. She wasn’t supposed to hear what she heard. But God was like that. Always putting the pieces where they belong, even when the shit felt crooked.
Now I just had to make sure I didn’t scare her off before she saw the bigger picture.
“You know this changes everything,” I said, guiding her closer to me, letting my arm slide around her waist. “No more hiding. No more looking over your shoulder. You’re under my protection now.”
She looked up at me, those intelligent eyes searching my face. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means you don’t have to handle anything alone anymore,” I said, stopping and turning to face her fully, my hands finding her waist like a magnet. “Whatever comes next, we face it together. That’s what the papers we just signed really mean.”
Her eyes grew wide as she processed what I was saying. I could see her mind working, trying to figure out if I meant it or if this was just more strategy.
“Like partners?”
“Like husband and wife,” I said simply, my thumbs brushing against the fabric of that red dress. “I know we started this out of necessity, but I need you to know—what I’m feeling right now has absolutely nothing to do with contracts or protection.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and I could practically hear her thinking, weighing what I’d just said against everything that had led us to this point. Then she reached up and touched my face, her palm warm against my cheek.
“Say what you really want to say,” she said softly.
I looked into her eyes and saw exactly what I’d been pretending not to see since that first night. All the careful distance we'd put between us hadn't done a thing.
“Can I trust you?” The words came out rougher than I’d intended. “Not just with your silence, not just with the legal shit. Can I trust you with this? With me? I don’t want to be played either.”
“I signed those papers, didn’t I?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She studied my face for another moment, then smiled. Not the polite professional smile she’d worn the first time I laid eyes on her. This one was real, and it made me pull her tighter.
“You can trust me, Lesley,” she said, pulling my face down toward hers.
When our lips met, I stopped thinking. She tasted like chocolate and wine, and I went back for more before I had made a decision about it.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, and I let her pull me closer.
I had been wanting exactly that since the first night I saw her.
My hand slid across her exposed back, and I pressed harder into her, feeling a need I couldn’t hide.
She felt it, hell, I wanted her to, and she didn’t pull away.
She knew she was irresistible, built to be noticed, stepping out of the house like a million bucks with curves designed to test a man’s restraint.
I forgot everything else. All I could think about was how she fit against me.
Perfect.
When we finally pulled back, we were both breathing like we’d run laps. Her lipstick was smudged. My composure was cracked. She looked like a woman kissed senseless. I looked like a man who’d do it again if she asked.
I leaned my forehead against hers. “Get home safe. Text me when you’re in. We got some shit to discuss tomorrow.”
She nodded, eyes still searching mine. No more words. Just understanding.
And when she stepped away, I knew. That kiss wasn’t part of the arrangement.
It was the beginning.
I was already on my second cup of coffee when I heard the private elevator ding. Eight-thirty on the dot. Punctual. I liked that about her.
When the doors opened, Colecion stepped out with that post-workout glow, carrying a canvas bag of groceries.
“Morning,” she said, setting the bag on my kitchen island.
“Morning. You brought food?”
“I figured we’d need to eat while we talked.” She started pulling out eggs, steaks, bacon, and fresh berries. “I felt like you didn’t know how to properly host. So, I’ll do it.”
She moved around my kitchen with confidence, and watching her work made it feel less like business and more like what she was... my wife.
“Do you cook when you’re nervous?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
She glanced up from cracking eggs into a bowl. “Who said I was nervous?”
“The way you’re avoiding looking at me for more than two seconds. The way you brought enough food to feed six people.” I took another sip of coffee, studying her face. “Last night was a lot. It’s okay to be nervous.”
Her hands stilled for just a moment before she went back to whisking eggs. “It was what it needed to be.”
“Yeah, so look—I can give you a wedding, however big or small you want it. You’ll have protection. Malice should be here soon. He’s your bodyguard and driver. I don’t want to put you on a leash, but you gotta be safe.”
“Can I keep running my business? It’s all I have.”
“Of course. I’m going to support you in that.” I paused, knowing the next part might not go over well. “Also, I may come home, I may not some nights.”
“What? No, that’s a deal breaker.”
I straightened up. “Can’t be. I’m a busy man, Co. It ain’t personal or because I don’t want to be here with you.”
“No,” she said, finally turning her back to me. “Even if you have to leave back out to do what you do, you come in, you eat my food. You let me lay eyes on you or at least call.”
I watched her cook, the efficient way she moved, how she seasoned, she knew exactly what she was doing.
She handed me perfectly scrambled eggs, steak tips, French toast and fruit. It looked better than anything I’d eaten in weeks.
“Where do you want to live? Is here okay for you? I have a home in Vireaux Pointe, but it’s a family home. Too much for a single man like me. But you can make it a home.”
“I would like to keep my place.”
“Meaning? You being in your spot and me in mine is a deal breaker.”
“I mean, I need to keep the bills paid there. I don’t want you going behind my back and selling my property. I worked hard for that house, and it may not be muc…”
“Chill, I hear you,” I said. I appreciated her hustle. And while I didn’t see this ending, I would give her what she wanted. “Your crib is safe. But I want us to stay together as often as possible.”
“We can stay here for now. I’ve never lived in a penthouse,” she grinned.
I smiled back. I wanted to wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking, wanted to come home to someone who cared enough to make sure I was fed.
And if she would do that for me, I’d do what she asked of me and come home unless I couldn’t.
We sat at the island, the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She’d made herself a smaller portion but was eating slowly, watching me.
“My steak is good huh?”
“You know it is. That’s why you watching me eat. You a light eater?”
“Not really. I am nervous to be honest.”
“It’s okay to be nervous, but people are going to be watching us,” I said between bites. “Family, rivals, people who want to see if this marriage is real or just for show.”
“So we need to be convincing.”
“Yeah. Date nights, public appearances, acting like we can’t keep our hands off each other.” I paused, fork halfway to my mouth. “You good with that?”
She looked up from her plate, a small smile playing at her lips. “I think I can manage.”
The way she said it made heat pool in my stomach. This woman was going to be trouble. And I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle.
“There’s something else,” I said, needing to focus on logistics before I reached across the counter and pulled her to me. “My father wants to meet you. Officially. As my wife.”
Her fork stopped moving. “When?”
“Soon.” I could see the apprehension in her eyes. “He likes to get the measure of people. Make sure they’re... compatible with the family.”
“And if I’m not?”
“You will be.” I reached over and covered her hand with mine. “You handled yourself at the dinner. You’re stronger than you think, Colecion.”
Saying her name made her breath catch, just like it had the other night. I liked the way she responded to it, the way her composure slipped just a little.
“What else?” she asked, her voice slightly rougher.
“We need to talk about boundaries. Physical ones.” I kept my hand over hers, my thumb tracing across her knuckles. “I need to know what you’re comfortable with.”
She stared down at our joined hands. “I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Neither have I.”
She looked up then, surprised. “You haven’t?”
“Marriage of convenience? Fake wife? Nah. This is new territory for me. Hell, a serious relationship in general is.” I squeezed her hand gently.
“But I meant what I said last night. I’m not going to treat this like you owe me something.
Whatever happens between us happens because we both want it to. ”
She was quiet for a long moment, processing. “And if nothing happens?”
“Then nothing happens. We play our parts until we don’t need to, then go our separate ways.”
“And if something does?”
I leaned closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. “Then we figure it out as we go.”
She didn’t pull away when I reached up to touch her face, my thumb brushing across her cheek. Her skin was soft, warm, and I could see her pulse jumping in her throat.
“I’m keeping my eye on you, Mr. Grimson,” she said, pointing her finger at me with a mock-serious expression.
“That’s probably smart, to be honest. I can see this working out, and I know that scares you, but plan to be pleasantly surprised.”
“Did you plot this out in your head? Because you seem eerily confident about how this is going to go. I could be just as crazy as you.”
I grinned, standing up and extending my hand to her. “Mark my words, Mrs. Grimson. Come on, I need to get you added to my accounts, get you keys, all that. Malice is coming to move most of your stuff later. You can take any room you want, or we can share.”
“Share?” She raised an eyebrow. “Be serious, Lesley.”
“What? I can share a room with you. You ain’t all that,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Okay, let’s see then, smart ass.”
We both laughed, and for a second, the whole situation felt natural. Real. We were now just two people figuring out how to live together, rather than two people bound by necessity and circumstance.
“See?” I said, squeezing her hand. “I told you this could work.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said, but she was smiling. “We haven’t even made it through one full day yet.”
“Day one starts now.”
“Day one,” she agreed, giving me goosebumps.
Day one of forever.