Chapter 9 Teo
nine
Teo
Sleep wasn’t happening tonight. So, here I was at two in the morning doing what I always did when my mind refused to shut down — carving wood until the noise in my head stopped.
Last year’s NBA finals played in the background, serving as ambient noise while my hands worked to create the perfect curve to a piece of dark wood intended to complete a gift for my bride-to-be.
My hands moved with practiced steadiness as I shaved small pieces of wood, then sanded the handle until it took the shape I desired.
It wasn’t anything too crazy, just a jewelry box for her.
An heirloom-inspired piece, reminiscent of the ones I’d made for my mother and Nona years ago.
The plan was to present it before the wedding, then fill it with treasures over the coming years.
Beginning with something I cherish most—my mother’s engagement ring.
Continuing my careful, but precise movements, I thought about Yanna, and how she had been tiptoeing around me for the past three days. Like I might bite. Which, to be fair, I might.
That made me smile.
That woman was everything I wanted and needed.
As well as something I craved and cherished deeply.
Seeing those deep pools of dark brown iris watching me, with deep-seated ire, and need was entertaining as hell.
My fiery little wife to be, was torn between wanting to fight me and wanting me to remind her why it was always going to be us, and no one else.
Having her in a home I built for the two of us soothed me. Even if she’d chosen to settle in the guest wing while she held onto the illusion of distance between us.
I turned my attention back to the handle, running my thumb along the surface to check for imperfections, occasionally glancing up at the television to catch a glimpse of the game. As I got lost in my work my phone buzzed against the workbench, the screen lighting up with Isabella’s name.
At two in the fucking morning.
I glanced at it without stopping my work, already annoyed.
Isabella had been pushing all of the wrong buttons from the minute she correctly assessed that she was never going to be an option for me. Not then, and certainly not now.
She had the family and the name to align with someone else. Another growing family, in need of a status boost. Just not me, despite what she wanted.
Glancing at the screen the preview showed just enough for me to be annoyed, then pissed. Because anything concerning Yanna didn’t fuckin’ concern her.
Isa: I tried calling first, but you didn’t answer. I’m just now hearing about what happened to Ayanna’s boutique.
Setting down my knife, I picked up the phone and read the rest of her message.
Isa- I wanted to check to see if you were okay?
I started typing. It’s two in the morning. Why the fuck are you on my line worried about my woman? Don’t ever—
But stopped realizing she wanted a reaction.
She wanted a reason to communicate. It didn’t matter if I was talking bad to her or not, only that I was giving her my attention in any way.
I wouldn’t give that to her. Staring at what I typed, I deleted every word, opting for something simpler — a thumbs up emoji.
Then immediately followed that with, stay off my line, unless it’s about business.
I tossed the phone aside and picked my knife up again, attempting to regain whatever peace was surrounding me before she interrupted my thoughts. Three precise strokes later, I heard soft footsteps in the hallway, then the door to my wood shop pushed open revealing a sight for sore eyes.
“I saw the lights on?” Her smile broke through the facade she had been intent on keeping up since she arrived in New York. She was still pissed at me despite the kiss we shared a few days ago. But not even she could stop the pull that we’ve always had.
She could act mad all she wanted, but the restraint I’d been holding for all these years was no longer. She was mine. And I only could show her better than I could tell her.
“You couldn’t sleep?”
“I mean... yes and no.” Her giggle was breathy and light, the enchanting sound always doing weird shit to me. “New environment and everything.”
I nodded, understanding. “C’mere.” I sat the knife down, holding my hand out for her to come closer. To my surprise, she didn’t argue, she simply padded across the floor without hesitation easing into the small space between the table and the seating.
Patting the soft cushion next to me, I invited her to sit next to me on the long bench.
I moved over, not a ton, but plenty of space for her to have room.
Our shoulders brushed as she settled onto the bench.
Her bare legs extended from her silk night shorts, revealing toned thighs that pressed against my more muscular ones.
Again, she made no attempt to shy away from our closeness.
Curiously, she eyed the table, scanning the assortment of items scattered across it.
“What are you making?” she asked softly, leaning forward just enough to inspect the intricate grain patterns in the wood, and then the polish sitting on the table.
“A jewelry box,” I paused, picking up the piece I’d been working on, then smiled. “For you.”
“For me?”
There was surprise in her voice.
“Of course for you. Who else would I be making jewelry boxes for at two in the morning, Amore?”
She rolled her eyes, and lifted her shoulder nonchalantly, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “I don’t know. Maybe for Isa.” Her eyes lingered on my phone that was now lit up with a response from Isabella.
Isabella didn’t mean shit to me, and I had nothing to hide but I couldn’t help but to fuck with her. Turning to face her fully, I smirked. “You jealous, Yanna?”
She blinked hard and fast, before a blush crept up from her chest and settled on her cheeks. I maintained our eye contact, licking my lips anticipating her answer.
“Hardly.”
I chuckled at her defiance before grabbing my device from the table.
Turning my body so I was now aligned with hers, my legs now straddling both sides of the bench.
I pulled her between my thighs, wrapping my arms around her chest with my cell in hand.
The very audible breath she took bounced against the walls. Making me kiss her shoulder tenderly.
“Relax,” I told her gently resting my chin on her shoulder.
Now that we both had a clear view of my phone, I unlocked it with her birth month and year. A code I’d used since I bought the phone. Slowly I clicked on the message.
Isa: Sorry for caring, I guess. Just wanted to make sure everyone was okay.
Yeah, fuckin’ right.
She wasn’t slick. This was her attempt to get information.
I felt Yanna’s body tense slightly against mine, likely because she read the last couple of exchanges between Isabella and I. Which wasn’t anything much. I’d been keeping ol’ girl at arms length. Before the message tonight, her last message was inquiring about the info I'd extracted from Roland.
But it wasn’t hard to discern that Isabella wanted me from the way she blurred our conversations between business and personal.
The eye roll was subtle, both eyelids cutting to the side.
And her lips? A barely contained frown. I wasn’t sure if she was intentionally trying to hide it but I caught the flicker of something.
Particularly, when she saw the message asking about her boutique.
Yanna’s head tilted just enough off center to be noticeable before the small huff of breath escaped her lips.
“Am I gonna have to worry about her?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough edge to let me know she wasn’t asking out of insecurity. It was more annoyance than anything. “I thought all of the families knew about this arrangement.”
Yanna tried to pull away from me, but I wouldn’t allow it, tightening my hold around her hips keeping her in place.
There was a bite in that statement, letting me know that it wasn’t really about Isabella texting me at odd hours. It was more about another person knowing about our arrangement while she sat in the dark.
I knew my woman well.
Closing out of Isabella’s message without responding, I tossed my phone onto the workbench with enough force to make it slide across the surface.
“Nah,” I said simply, addressing her initial question. My chin still rested on her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about her.”
“Then why is she texting you at two in the morning about my business? I know she knows you’re about to be married. Everyone does.”
I pressed a soft kiss to the curve of her neck, tasting the sweetness of whatever lotion she used before bed.
“She knows.” I pressed another lingering kiss to her shoulder.
This time she shuddered and leaned into me without realizing it, giving me more access to her collarbone, even in her anger.
“Isabella’s a bird, and doesn’t know how to be anything other than a bird.
She doesn’t mean shit to me. Just Gianni’s daughter, but if you want me to call her, I will.
I’ll call her now and tell her what I just told her in a text. ”
I tugged at the end of her braids, tilting her face toward mine. I wanted to address one issue at a time. Our history, while always pleasant, was still complicated, and her feelings were valid.
All of them.
She was quiet, but I could feel the tension radiating through her body. Her shoulders were tense, and breathing was heavy. When she spoke again, her voice was softer but still carried that edge.
“No, you don’t have to do that.” She paused. “That’s not even what I’m really mad about.”
“I know,” I replied softly, realizing that we’d moved on to the root of her anger.
She pulled away slightly, turning her entire body to face me. “That’s it? Just ‘I know’?”
“What else do you want me to say, Amore?” I shifted closer so I could see her profile better. “That I’m sorry for protecting you? That I regret making sure you’re safe?”
This conversation was much more layered than Isabella. Yanna being angry was about me, my decisions to keep the arrangement from her, and my actions. All things I would do again if it meant keeping her safe, and letting her be happy an enjoy life.
“I want you to acknowledge that keeping me in the dark was wrong. I want you to be sorry for lying to me. Is that too much to ask?”
“It’s not. You should have heard it from me first. I am sorry about that.”
She studied my face for a long moment, searching for something — maybe sincerity, maybe more fight.
“Are you though?”
“Sincerely. About a lot of things. Like getting you caught up in whatever this is.” I paused, needing her to understand exactly what I was saying. “I’m sorry you are hurting because of me. That your shop was targeted… because of me. That you had to find out about us the way you did.”
“But you’re not sorry about the arrangement itself.” She accurately mused.
“No.”
I wasn’t going to lie to her, not now, not ever. “Not that we are going to be married, or that you’re here with me. Am I sorry about how it happened? Yes, but not that it’s happening.”
We fell into silence afterwards, that wasn’t so comfortable. My honesty may have been jarring, but it was true. Her shoulders slumped, and her head leaned back on my chest. When I thought she’d pull away, she didn’t, even when I knew part of her wanted to.
“I guess, thank you for being honest,” she said quietly.
I nodded, then gently tugged at two of her braids, making her give me her eyes.”I won’t lie to you.”
I placed my lips on hers, softly. They tasted like cherries and the best kind of sin. When she sighed contently against my mouth, and then clenched her thighs, I had to pull away.
The musky scent of her need enveloped us. Further proving that physical attraction had never been an issue between us.
“So, I heard you hired the wedding planner.”. I picked up the carving knife again, sliding back into my work.
I needed to focus on something other than her pussy crying out for me. I would not cross that line until she invited it.
She sighed, but it wasn’t one of annoyance. “Lidia came highly recommended, according to your family.”
“Is that who you want?” I glanced up at the TV noticing it had moved on to this weeks sports highlights. The New York Knicks had won their game, making me smile.
She shrugged, indifferently. “It’s not like I know any wedding planners in New York. I’m just going with whoever your family thinks is best.”
“But you can hire who ever, Amore. Even someone you’re connected with in Atlanta.”
“I know.” Her lips pouted slightly. “I thought about it, but figured someone who was familiar with the family would be better. You know, someone who understands the... expectations.”
She paused, her fingers tracing absent patterns on her exposed leg . “Plus, I didn’t want your mom to feel like I was dismissing her recommendations. She’s been nothing but welcoming to me.”
I nodded in understanding allowing us to fall into a comfortable silence.
The only sounds filling the room was the gentle scrape of my knife against the wood and the low murmur of the sportscaster on the television.
I could feel her breathing slow, her body growing heavier against mine as exhaustion finally begin to catch up with her.
“I should probably head back to my room,” she said eventually, but made no move to leave.
I set down my knife and turned her in my arms so she was facing me again. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes soft and unfocused in that way that told me she wasn’t thinking, just feeling.
“I’ll walk you back?” I told her quietly, my thumb tracing along her jawline.
Her breath caught, and I watched as her gaze dropped to my mouth and unconsciously leaned forward. Her body was anticipating what her mind hadn’t yet caught up with. She wanted me to kiss her.
She wouldn’t ask. Not yet anyway.
But, I’ll always give her exactly what she wants, or needs.
Inching closer to her lips, I kissed her. The kiss was slow and deep, years of wanting poured into it. She melted into me immediately, her hands clinging around my neck, pulling me closer. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“Come on. I’ll walk you to your room.