Prologue #3
He knew what I was. Could smell it on me the same way I could smell the fear under his bravado. He was testing me, seeing how far he could go with Aurelia before I snapped.
"All this…why?" His lips twisted into something cruel and ugly as he stared down at her. "Cause I ain't buy you no funky ass flowers and a teddy bear for this fake ass holiday? Grow the fuck up, Aurelia."
I watched her face crumble. Saw the embarrassment crawl over her skin like something living. The couple trying to walk in through the front door stopped mid-step, took one look at the scene, and backed out slowly.
Behind me, I heard footsteps. My sous chef Raymond appeared at my shoulder, his voice low and urgent.
"Boss. You want me to call someone?"
"Not yet," I said, my voice coming out dead calm. "Let her handle it…and if she can’t, I will."
But even as I said it, I was calculating, watching Asher weave on his feet, watching the way his hands balled into fists, watching the way he looked at Aurelia like she was property he needed to reclaim.
If he touched her again, restraint be damned.
Aurelia must have sensed it too, the violence gathering in the air like a coming storm. She grabbed Asher's arm, her voice urgent. "Let's go outside. Now."
She pushed past him, shouldering through the front door before he could respond. The cold February air rushed in, briefly clearing the thick tension that had settled over my dining room like smoke.
Smart girl. Good for business. Get the drama out of my restaurant before it cost me everything I'd built. But now she was outside alone, in the dark, with him.
Every protective instinct I had roared to life. My feet moved before my brain caught up, carrying me toward the entrance. I kept my pace measured and controlled, knowing all eyes were on me.
Asher stumbled after her, his drunk ass barely keeping his balance as he pushed through the door. "Yeah, run! That's what you always do!"
I caught the door before it closed, slipping out into the night. The parking lot stretched out before me, dotted with luxury cars glinting under the streetlights. Aurelia's heels tapped against the asphalt as she put distance between herself, the restaurant and him.
I moved into the shadows near the building, keeping to the edges. Close enough to see everything, hear every word and reach her in three strides if I needed to. But far enough back to let her handle this herself.
She needed to do this. Aurelia needed to stand up to him, find her own voice and use it. I couldn't fight all her battles for her or save her from every hard conversation. She had to learn to save herself. But I'd be damned if I let anything happen to her in the process.
I positioned myself near a black Mercedes, using it for cover while keeping a clear line of sight.
My breathing stayed calm, my muscles stayed loose, ready.
I'd done enough street fighting in my younger days to know that tension made you slow.
Relaxed made you fast. And if I needed to be fast tonight, I would be.
"You don't get it," she said, voice cracking as she kept walking deeper into the parking lot, heels clicking faster now, almost running. "You don't fucking get it!"
"Yeah? Well explain it then!" Asher's voice boomed across the pavement, louder now that they were outside, no walls to contain it. "I'm right here! Explain it!"
She whipped around so fast her hair flew, and even from where I stood I could see her chest heaving.
"I'm tired, Asher! I'm tired of explaining!" Her voice rose higher, years of swallowed hurt finally breaking free. "Every year! Every birthday! Every holiday! Every single day! All you do is disappoint me! You hate me!"
Asher's head snapped back like she'd hit him. His laugh came out harsh, disbelieving.
"Hate you?" He took a step toward her, swaying slightly, arms spread wide in mock innocence.
"How you gon' say that shit when you laid up in my crib, not payin' one damn bill, Aurelia?
Huh? Not one bill! I keep a roof over your head, food in your mouth, clothes on your back, and you talkin' 'bout I hate you? "
The words landed like a slap across her face. I saw it ripple through her body. Saw her eyes widen just a fraction. Saw the way she physically recoiled, like he'd actually hit her. The shame that crawled across her features made my chest tight.
But then something shifted. Her spine straightened, she lifted her chin, and when she spoke again, her voice came out softer but somehow stronger, like steel wrapped in silk.
"That doesn't mean you love me! You don't love me, Asher. You just wanna own me. Like I'm some high school trophy you finally won. Some prize you get to keep on a shelf and pull down when you wanna show me off."
“Oh, here we go with this bullshit again!" Asher's voice cracked, rage bleeding through the liquor.
His hands balled into fists at his sides, then spread wide as he gestured wildly.
"All you do is compare what we got to these motherfuckers on social media!
" He was pacing now, his voice rising with each word, spit flying.
"You wanna do an unboxing, Aurelia? Huh?
That's what you want? You want me to buy you some roses so you can put 'em on a table with some fake ass candles and record yourself opening a card with SZA playing in the background? Is that it?"
He stopped, spinning to face her.
"You want something you can post? Something you can record and caption 'ooooh look what my man did for me'?
" His voice went high and mocking, cruel, mimicking her.
"So all them lonely bitches in your comments can gas you up?
Tell you how lucky you are? How blessed?
Meanwhile, I bet those bitches don't got half the man you got.
Half the man! But you don't see that, do you? "
He laughed, but there was nothing in it but bitterness and wounded pride.
"Nah, you too busy scrolling through your phone looking at other people's highlight reels, comparing me to niggas who probably ain't even really doing half that shit. You know half them posts are fake as hell, right? They get paid to look like they can even stand each other, then the next week they’re filing for divorce" He shook his head, eyes wild.
"But you don't care about that. You just care about the performance. You want the show, the aesthetic."
His voice dropped lower, meaner.
"I give you a whole roof over your head, and you want a teddy bear. I keep you fed, and you want a fucking balloon. I give you my card, my crib, my time, and it ain't enough 'cause I ain't packaging it pretty enough for social media."
"You don't show me romance, Asher." Her voice cracked but she pushed through it. "You don't make any effort to make me feel special, at all. You don't plan anything. You don't think about what I like. You don't listen when I talk. You don't see me. You just... you don't..."
Her voice broke completely, tears streaming down her face now.
Asher barked out a bitter laugh as he threw his hands up, spinning in a circle like he was appealing to an invisible audience.
"It ain't romance when I let you run up my card? That ain't love?" His voice rose to a shout. "All the shit I do for you, but I gotta give you a fucking candy gram on Feburary 14th like it's 7th grade to show you I care about yo ass?"
"Yes!" she screamed back. "Or anything! Something! Anything that shows you thought about me for five fucking minutes instead of just throwing money at me like I'm some problem you can buy your way out of!"
She was crying openly now.
"Romance is planning something for once.
Being intentional, thoughtful, considerate.
Making me a priority. Not an afterthought.
Not a burden. A priority!" She wiped at her face roughly.
"It's listening when I tell you what I like, what I need, what makes me feel loved, and actually doing it.
Showing me love the way I receive it, not the way you want to give it. "
Her voice dropped to almost a whisper, but somehow it carried across the parking lot like thunder.
"I don't wanna be tolerated, Asher. I wanna be cherished."
Something in Asher's face changed. The false bravado cracked, his expression twisting into something darker, uglier. I'd seen this look before in men who knew they were losing but refused to go down without inflicting damage.
His eyes went dead. The drunk stumbling disappeared, his body going rigid. Without warning, he lunged forward, closing the distance in two long strides. I saw her breath catch, saw her body freeze in that primal moment when prey realizes the predator is too close.
"You ungrateful bit —" he started, his hand coming up.
That's when I moved.
The three strides I'd been calculating became two. My body cut through the space between us like I'd been launched, all that controlled stillness exploding into motion.
"Get the fuck out her face."
The words came out calm and lethal. I didn't need to yell.
The tone carried everything that needed to be said, every promise of what would happen if he didn't listen.
It was the voice I used in the kitchen when someone was about to ruin service, when there was no room for negotiation, only immediate compliance.
Asher froze mid-motion, his hand still raised, his body locked in that moment of recognition when a drunk man realizes he's made a miscalculation. His eyes went wide, then narrow, trying to hold onto his pride even as his body betrayed him with the slightest backward lean.
I didn't move an inch. My presence alone was enough to make him reconsider every choice he'd made in the last sixty seconds.
"Aurelia, rentre à l'intérieur, tout de suite," I said, my tone smooth and measured, not even looking at her. My eyes stayed locked on Asher, reading him the way I'd read hundreds of men before him. Go inside right now.
"Dillion, ?a va. Je vais bien." Dillion, it's okay. I'm fine.