Chapter Two #2
For KC, it was physical and cyber security.
His friend was a global icon who had enemies, opportunists, obsessed fans, shady investors, jealous rappers, bitter old associates, and at least three people Lennox knew would smile in his face while quietly praying for his downfall.
His circle and digital perimeter stayed tight because Lennox made sure of it.
Lennox monitored trigger words, location anomalies, business emails, DMs from fans, to name a few.
Nothing got past Lennox because when it came to hackers, he was considered top two in the underworld, and the Midnight Ledger wasn’t two.
Cadence was a highly visible extension of KC, so he was responsible for protecting her as well.
She was considered soft-spoken to the public eye, and that caused people to get overly familiar.
Lennox monitored the digital noise around her because KC would lose what little sanity fame had left him if anything happened to his wife, and he couldn’t blame him.
Lane was neither of those things, not his client, and not his wife.
Hell, she wasn’t his anything, according to her.
She’d told him he was like an app she deleted from her phone after she refused to pay for a subscription—fun while it lasted, but no longer necessary.
Still, her phone and email were threaded through his system with the same protections he kept in place for KC and Cadence.
He’d convinced himself he was just looking out for Lane because she worked in entertainment.
Nova’s stardom was rising fast enough to attract both money and madness and Lane wasn’t exempt from chaos that came with fame.
Lane also ran The Full Plate Project, which put her in contact with desperate people, powerful donors, entitled politicians, and the occasional man who thought generosity came with ownership rights.
Lennox surmised that she needed digital protection whether she knew it or not.
That was partially true, unfortunately, he was also a liar with a keyboard and unresolved feelings.
None of the alerts currently open on his screen indicated danger, not unless a dinner reservation at eight o’clock with Devin Halstead counted as a threat to national security.
Lennox stared at the man’s name as his jaw flexed at the thought of some square-ass industry nigga getting next to the woman he was too scared to claim as his and his alone.
Ol’ boy had too many titles in his email signature, and Lennox immediately took that as a character flaw.
Senior Vice President of Strategic Brand Partnerships, Music and Culture Division.
This shit screamed boring suit-and-tie who wore loafers without socks and said things like, “We all have the same 24 hours in a day,” in rooms where people were trying to eat.
Lane had confirmed the date fifteen minutes ago with her calendar alert.
Lennox was being nosy and hacked her calendar after seeing Devin’s name appear too many times in her inbox over the last week.
Lennox leaned back in his chair and dragged a hand down his face. “You’re pathetic,” he muttered to himself.
He was sure if his laptop could talk, it wouldn’t disagree. From the living room, Nova’s laugh sliced through the open floor plan.
“Lane, please tell me you’re not wearing that to lunch because I refuse to sit beside you while you outshine me in public. I’m the artist; I should be the problem,” she fussed playfully.
“You’re always the problem,” Lane replied.
The sound of Lane’s voice made his fingers pause over the keyboard.
The tone always did something stupid to him.
Lane had a voice that was sensual but smoky—it held depth and indifference as if she was annoyed by default.
Her vibe in general said unimpressed and that she merely tolerated the world for sport.
He closed the alert window before anyone could walk up behind him, then shut the laptop.
KC and Cadence’s home was warm with late morning light as their team meeting spilled from the formal dining room into the kitchen because Cadence insisted nobody should discuss business without food nearby.
Cadence sat at the head of the long breakfast table, glowing in a cream knit dress with one hand resting on her growing belly while KC stood behind her chair with his palm on her shoulder.
If his wife was within his grasp, KC was going to touch her in some capacity.
It didn’t scream performative but more like he needed physical confirmation that she and the twins were real.
Lennox found himself wanting that type of closeness, but he always snapped out of what he considered delusion and maintained his philosophy of love em and leave em.
Tariq was sprawled on the far end of the couch as he scrolled through his phone while occasionally offering commentary no one had asked for, and Nova sat cross-legged in an armchair with her oversized sunglasses pushed on top of her head.
Lane sat beside her with a tablet in her lap, her signature lavender pixie cut making Lennox want to forget every lesson his father had accidentally taught him about wanting one woman too much.
She looked good. Scratch that, she looked fucking amazing, which was irritating and frankly inconsiderate.
Today, she wore a fitted chocolate-brown jumpsuit that hugged every curve as if it were designed with her body in mind, simple gold jewelry, and glossed lips while tapping away on her tablet.
Her complexion looked like coffee softened with cream beneath the sunlight, smooth and warm.
Being in proximity to Lane made it hard for him to seem unbothered by her presence.
Lennox had been doing a terrible job of acting normal since she walked in.
Normally he’d flirt and annoy her, or say something slick enough to make Lane roll her eyes and threaten bodily harm.
Their love/hate for each other could be counted as foreplay if a man had imagination and no sense, but today was different.
Every time she said something to him, he gave her clipped answers and went back to what he was doing, all because Lane had the nerve to go on a date.
Lennox knew he’d fucked up, but he’d never stopped thinking about their time together in St. Barts.
After the way she had let him see pieces of her he was sure nobody else got.
He remembered her curling into him at three in the morning and softly whispering that she hated how easy it was to laugh with him.
Then he had panicked and treated her like a late-night creep before he disappeared altogether, only to show up at KC and Cadence’s gender reveal months later with another woman on his arm like a damn fool, cementing that what they’d started was finished.
He deserved Lane’s ass to kiss, and he knew it, but Devin Halstead didn’t deserve dinner.
Cadence had called his name, while looking at him with one eyebrow raised. “Did you hear me?”
“He didn’t,” Nova answered for him, “He’s been sitting over there looking like his Bitcoin wallet got hacked.”
Tariq snorted. “Can you hack a hacker? Is that like finding a cyber unicorn?”
KC looked down at Lennox, amusement flashing in his eyes. “You good, Midnight?” he asked, being funny.
Lennox hated when KC called him that in mixed company.
Not because anyone in the room knew what it meant or who he was beyond being security to the Reeds, but because Lane always smiled as if she found the alias dramatic and another man making her laugh even someone they both considered family made him want to act a fool.
“I’m fine,” Lennox said.
Lane glanced up from her tablet. “That was convincing,” she joked.
His gaze cut to hers. “Nobody asked you,” he spat icily.
The room went quiet for half a second, everyone curious to see how this exchange would play out.
Lane’s brows lifted. “Excuse me?” She challenged.
“You heard me,” Lennox responded as he leaned back in his chair.
Nova sat up slowly with delight spreading across her face as she instigated, “Oh, this is new.”
Cadence looked between them, lips pressing together like she was fighting a smile, “Lennox, did you just snap at Lane?”
“I answered a question,” he said, trying to regain his cool.
“I didn’t ask one,” Lane said.
“Exactly,” he snipped yet again.
“Nah, this nigga got a death wish,” Tariq added as he lowered his phone.
KC laughed under his breath, “You must want Lane to poison your smoothie.”
Lane smiled sweetly as she spoke, “I would never waste poison on him. I’d use inconvenience. It’s slower and more educational when teaching a nigga how not to play with you.”
Lennox’s mouth twitched despite himself. “You threatening me, Sanders?”
“Threatening implies uncertainty. I’m informing you,” she let him know.
Nova laughed louder. “I love whatever toxic little improv show y’all have going, don’t stop,” she teased.
Cadence pointed a pen at both of them, ready to get back to business. “Before Lane commits a misdemeanor and Lennox pretends he didn’t enjoy it, can we please finish the meeting?”
KC squeezed Cadence’s shoulder. “Yes, My love.”
Lane looked back down at her tablet and was back to business again.
“As I was saying, Nova’s festival appearance needs to align with the single rollout.
The visuals are ready and the teaser campaign is scheduled.
The only thing left to do is figure out her interview schedule.
We’re intentionally skipping over requests from random podcasts with dusty microphones and men asking if her songs are about exes. ”
“Thank you, because the next man who asks who hurt me is getting embarrassed,” she added.
“Speaking of interviews, we need to discuss the Vogue opportunity,” Cadence reminded Lane.