Notice Me: The Way We Stay
Book Three
Chapter One
The restaurant had a name instead of a sign.
That was the first thing Nasir noticed when Dame texted him the address.
No logo. No menu in the window.
Just a name that meant nothing unless you already knew what it meant.
He’d been around money long enough to know that the quieter the room, the larger the numbers.
He pulled up in the Range and sat for a second before getting out.
Not nervous.
Just…present.
Doing what he always did before something that mattered.
Accounting for himself.
He’d built Fifth Ave Cuts from one chair in Harlem when he was twenty-five. Had the shop before the marriage. Before the Brooklyn location. Before any of this.
Before Kiyah.
The shop was his first proof that the street wasn’t the only place he could be somebody.
Now he was about to walk into a room that wanted to know if he was ready to become something else entirely.
He got out of the car.
•••
Dame was already inside.
Of course he was.
Dame moved through the world like he’d pre-confirmed every room before entering it.
He stood when Nasir walked in, dapped him up.
“You good?” Dame asked.
“I’m here.” Nasir said.
Same thing.
Marcus Webb was already seated.
The kind of man who didn’t need to arrive late to establish his presence. Sixty-something. Built his first real business in his forties after two decades of moving money in ways that weren’t entirely legal…which was the part of his biography that didn’t make it into the press releases but was the part that made men like Nasir trust him.
He recognized the transformation.
He’d lived it.
He stood and reached across the table.
“Nasir Grant.” Marcus said.
“Mr. Webb.” Nasir shook his hand.
Marcus gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit. And it’s Marcus.”
Nasir sat.
And then he looked at the fourth person at the table.
•••
He’d been told she was the numbers person.
That description was doing a lot of work and not doing it justice.
Iyana Cole had a folder open in front of her and a pen in her hand and was making a small notation on something when Nasir sat down.
She didn’t look up immediately. Not rudely. Just — she was finishing a thought and apparently the thought mattered more than the entrance.
Then she looked up.
She was stunning. Naturally beautiful.
Sharp eyes. The kind that had already assessed everything in the room including him before he’d fully settled into the chair.
Natural hair pinned back. A black blazer that was fitted. No jewelry except small gold earrings.
She looked like someone who had been underestimated enough times that she’d stopped dressing to compensate and started dressing to move through rooms fast.
“Iyana Cole.” She extended her hand.
“Nasir Grant.” He took it.
She nodded once. Closed the folder.
“I know who you are.” she said. Then she looked at Marcus. “Ready?”
Marcus smiled. “She runs the meetings.” he said to Nasir. “I just own the money.”
Nasir looked at Iyana.
She didn’t smile at the joke.
She was already opening the folder again.
•••
The pitch was clean.
Five cities. Three years.
Chicago, Atlanta, Houston, Dallas, Miami.
Not five shops with his name on the door.
A brand. A training pipeline. Barbers coming out of situations that looked like his own past… court-mandated, recently released, aged out of systems that hadn’t tried very hard to keep them and getting real technical training, union wages, a path.
Dame had pushed for that component.
Nasir had agreed before Dame finished the sentence.
Iyana walked through the numbers without performing them.
Revenue projections. Build-out costs. Franchise structure. Licensing. The marketing play that would take what Fifth Ave Cuts had built on reputation alone and put infrastructure behind it.
Nasir listened.
He asked two questions, both about the training program.
Iyana answered both without looking at her notes.
Then Marcus sat forward.
“You’ve already proven the model works in two markets. Harlem. Brooklyn.” Marcus said.
Nasir held his gaze.
“Meaning?” he asked.
“Meaning this level of expansion requires your face, your presence, your voice in rooms like this one.” Marcus said. “Investors want access to the founder. That’s not negotiable at this stage.”
Nasir turned his glass once on the table.
“How much access?” he asked.
Iyana answered before Marcus could.
“Enough.” Her voice was direct. Not cold. Just…precise. “We’re not asking you to become someone you’re not. We’re asking you to show up as who you already are, in rooms that haven’t had someone like you in them yet.”
Nasir looked at her.
She looked back.
“The chair built the brand.” she said. “But you can’t scale a chair.”
The table was quiet.
Nasir looked at the numbers in front of him.
He thought about Kiyah.
About the question she’d asked him the last time he’d come home from something that felt like the next level.
How much of you is this going to take?
“I need to take this home.” Nasir said.
Marcus nodded immediately. “Expected.”
“My wife is involved in every major decision.” He said it plainly. Not apologetically.
Something moved across Iyana’s face.
Not surprise.
Something else.
“Of course.” she said.
Marcus extended his hand across the table.
“Take the week.” he said. “Come back with questions.”
Nasir shook it.
Then he shook Iyana’s.
Her grip was firm.
She was already looking at her folder again before he stood up.
•••
He called Kiyah from the parking lot.
Not from home.
From the car, right now, before he could arrange his face into something that looked like he’d already figured it out.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Hey Baby.” Warm and tired. The specific combination that meant she’d been going since six a.m. and was on the last of it. Kehlani’s voice floated through in the background…one word, repeated with urgency, about something only she understood.
“How’d it go?” Kiyah asked.
Nasir looked at the steering wheel.
“It’s real.” he said. “It’s not a conversation anymore. It’s a real offer.”
He heard her go slightly still on the other end.
Not bad still.
Thinking still.
He waited.
“Nasir.”
“Yeah my love?”
“How much of you is this going to take?”
He exhaled.
She always asked the exact right question.
“I don’t know the full answer yet.” he said. “But it’s more than what I’m giving now.”
A pause.
“Okay.” she said.
“Okay?”
“Come home.” Her voice was soft but certain. “We’ll talk when you get here.”
He started the car.
When his wife said come home that meant now…not later.
•••
Lani had a system.
Drop-off at 8:15.
Twins in, bags off, sign the sheet, back out.
No long goodbyes that turned into Junior crying and Malia catching it like a cold and the whole morning caving in on itself.
She had it down.
Most mornings.
This was not most mornings.
Junior had decided today was the day he exercised his right to remain on the sidewalk.
Not because anything was wrong.
Not because anything had changed.
Because he was almost two and had woken up with a position and he intended to hold it.
He stood at the entrance of Bright Minds Early Learning with his arms stiff at his sides and his feet planted like he’d taken root overnight.
No go. The words were small but the commitment behind them was enormous.
Malia had already handled her business. Bag dropped. Cubby found. She stood in the doorway now watching her brother with the expression of a girl who had a schedule and a brother who did not respect it.
Lani crouched down.
“Junior.”
He looked at the door frame.
“Junior, look at me.”
He looked at his shoes.
“Baby—”
“No go.” Confirmed. Committed. Final.
Lani pressed her lips together.
Then a voice came from her right.
Low. Even. Not performing anything.
“Aye.”
Junior turned his head.
About ten feet away, a man was crouching at the level of a little girl who had just come out of the building. His god daughter, Lani would understand later, who attended the adjacent pediatric therapy center that shared the building’s entrance. The little girl was doing the thing children did when drop-off was complete and they were being brave about it. Standing very straight. Hands clasped.
The man had his eyes on Junior now.
“How old are you?” he asked.
Junior stared.
“How old?” he asked again. Not impatient. Just…steady.
Junior held up two fingers.
Because two was an accomplishment worth reporting even in a standoff.
The man nodded seriously. Like that was significant information.
“Two is big enough to go in.” he said simply.
Junior looked at the door.
Looked at the man.
Looked at Lani.
Then he walked inside.
Malia, from her cubby, watched this without visible reaction. She had somewhere to be.
Lani stood up.
The man stood too.
He wasn’t looking at her like he’d done something.
He was looking toward the door to confirm his god daughter had made it in safely. She had, she gave him a crisp, professional wave from behind the glass and then he stepped back.
And that was when Lani actually looked at him.
She hadn’t meant to look the way she looked.
But she was standing there and he was there and it happened.
He was fine.
90’s kind of fine.
Tattoos on his neck and hands. Not decorative. The kind that told a story, the kind that said there had been a different life before this one.
Dark skin. Built without trying to be…the natural result of a man who moved through the world physically and didn’t think about it.
A watch. A chain. Simple. Nothing that was asking to be noticed.
He had the posture of someone who had decided something about himself a long time ago and hadn’t needed to revisit the decision since.
He glanced at her.
Not a look that took anything.
Just acknowledgment.
A thing had happened between two people at a drop-off and he was noting it.
“He’s good.” he said, nodding toward where Junior had disappeared.
“Yeah.” Lani blinked. “Thank you.”
He nodded once.
Turned.
Walked toward a dark car parked along the curb.
Clean. Simple. Not trying to be anything.
Lani stood there.
She had a day to get to.
She had things to do.
She had a system.
And yet.
She stood there for a second longer than the system required.
Because something about the air around him had been…different.
Quieter.
The way certain spaces were quieter than others not because the noise was gone but because something steady was present.
She didn’t have a word for it.
She had a feeling for it.
And the feeling scared her in a way she didn’t want to examine in a daycare parking lot at 8:19 in the morning.
Malia appeared at the door.
“Ma.” She pointed at the sign-in sheet with the authority of someone who had watched this process enough times to understand the protocol.
Lani walked back.
Signed her name.
Did not look at the parking lot.
Told herself that was a decision.
Told herself it convincingly enough.
For now.
Chapter Two
Nasir heard it before he even opened the door.
Little feet.
A high-pitched voice.
Something falling that absolutely did not need to fall.
And Kiyah, “Cairo, if you climb on that couch one more time. I swear to God!”
The door opened.
Nasir stepped inside.
And immediately CiCi came running.
Kehlani Ciara Grant came running like she had been waiting specifically for this moment her entire life.
One.
Fully committed to chaos.
Pink socks. A curl half-out of place because she had clearly rejected whatever style Kiyah had attempted earlier.
Nasir didn’t even get the door fully closed before he bent down and scooped her up.
“There she go.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
CiCi squealed, grabbing his face with both hands like she owned it.
Yeah.
That was it.
That was the one.
Nasir exhaled through his nose, holding her tighter for a second than necessary.
“Miss me?” he asked.
She nodded dramatically like he’d been gone for weeks instead of a few hours.
“Y’all not gonna say nothing?” Nasir called out.
Cairo shrugged. “You came back.”
Carter nodded once. “You always come back.”
Nasir smirked.
“Respect it.”
CiCi patted his cheek again, pulling his attention right back where she wanted it.
“Up.”
“I’m already holding you.”
“Up.” she said again, more firmly, like the first one hadn’t been understood correctly.
He laughed under his breath.
“Yeah. You spoiled.”
“She is.” Kiyah said from the kitchen.
Nasir looked up.
And there she was.
Kiyah stood at the counter in one of his t-shirts that barely made it mid-thigh, her hair pulled up, a few curls escaping around her face. No makeup. Just skin glowing in that way that had nothing to do with products and everything to do with life happening inside her.
Four months pregnant.
Beautiful in a way she never fully believed when he said it but that he saw every single time he walked into a room she was in.
She looked up at him over the counter.
Her eyes asked the question her mouth hadn’t gotten to yet.
How’d it really go?
He looked back.
Later, his said. When the kids are down.
She nodded once.
Went back to whatever she was making.
CiCi grabbed his chin and turned his face back toward her.
“Dada.” Firm. Non-negotiable.
Nasir looked at his daughter.
“Yes ma’am?”
CiCi pointed at the living room like she was assigning him somewhere to be.
“Play.”
Nasir raised an eyebrow. “Play?”
She nodded once.
The authority of it.
The complete unbothered certainty that he would comply.
He looked at Kiyah.
Kiyah’s mouth was doing the thing where she was trying not to smile too hard because she’d told him this would happen.
You created this, her face said.
He had.
He absolutely had.
He carried CiCi into the living room like she’d requested and sat on the floor because CiCi didn’t sit on laps. CiCi preferred the floor where everything was accessible and the range of motion was unlimited.
Carter was immediately beside him.
Not CiCi…him.
Carter sat beside his father like a man taking a meeting.
“Daddy.” Carter said.
“What’s up.”
“The red car is mine.” he said, pointing at a toy across the room.
Nasir looked at the toy. Then back at Carter. “Okay.”
“Cairo said it’s his.”
“Is your name on it?”
Carter considered this. “No.”
“Then tomorrow we’re putting your name on it.”
Carter nodded slowly. Like that was the most reasonable solution he’d ever heard and he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it himself.
Cairo came sliding in on socked feet from the hallway.
“DADDY.”
Not a greeting.
An announcement.
Cairo announced everything.
“What?” Nasir said.
“Watch this.” Cairo pointed at the couch.
“Don’t you dare climb that couch.”
Cairo froze.
He had absolutely been about to climb the couch.
He redirected. Picked up a toy instead. Started explaining something about it to Nasir with the passionate velocity of a three year old who had a lot to say and no concept of an appropriate amount of time to say it in.
CiCi, meanwhile, had climbed into Nasir’s lap despite previously rejecting that option and was now pressing her face into his neck and just…staying there.
Nasir’s hand moved automatically to her back.
He kept listening to Cairo with one ear.
Kept feeling CiCi’s breath against his neck.
Carter on his left saying something about the organization of the toy cars that was either profound or completely insane.
This.
This was the counterweight to every meeting.
Every number.
Every ambitious conversation about cities and brands and what came next.
This was the thing that came first.
•••
Kiyah moved through the kitchen slowly.
Not because she was tired.
Because slow felt right tonight.
The pregnancy had been kind to her so far…kinder than the twins, gentler than Kehlani, who had arrived after a labor that Kiyah had described to Shaye as “a personal attack.”
This one was softer.
Growing steadily. Quietly.
She rubbed her stomach once without thinking about it.
She did that a lot now.
The unconscious hand.
The check-in.
You good in there?
From the living room, Cairo’s voice climbed.
Then Carter’s.
Then CiCi’s, smaller but with the same frequency.
Then Nasir, under all of it, low and calm.
“Carter. Let him talk. Cairo…stop. CiCi, don’t put that in your mouth.”
Kiyah exhaled.
The exhale of a woman who was tired in a way she’d never trade.
She looked toward the living room doorway.
She could see Nasir from where she stood. On the floor, back against the couch, CiCi in his lap, Cairo in his ear, Carter arranging toy cars beside him with tremendous seriousness.
She looked at her husband on the floor with their children.
This man.
Who had walked into a room tonight that wanted to take him further than he’d ever gone.
Who had called her from the parking lot before he even processed it himself.
Who was currently, in a suit he hadn’t changed out of, letting a one year old press her face into his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Which for him it was.
Kiyah smiled.
Turned back to the stove.
•••
CiCi fell asleep on Nasir’s chest before seven.
She didn’t announce it.
She didn’t wind down.
She was active, then she was asleep.
Like a switch.
Nasir sat very still when it happened. The way parents learned to sit still the moment a child fell asleep in an inconvenient position.
Carter looked at his sister.
“She sleep.” he confirmed.
“I see that.” Nasir said quietly.
“She be doing that.” Cairo said.
Nasir looked at Cairo.
Cairo shrugged. “She just be going to sleep.”
“She’s one.” Nasir said.
“Still.” Cairo said, like this was a character flaw CiCi would need to work on.
Kiyah appeared in the doorway, saw CiCi on Nasir’s chest, and pointed at the boys.
“Okay. Bath time. Both of you.”
Cairo made the noise he made when bath time was mentioned.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been alive today.” Kiyah said simply.
Carter stood up immediately. He had no argument. Bath was bath.
Cairo followed, still mid-complaint, toward the hallway.
Kiyah looked at Nasir.
He looked at her.
I’ll do bedtime. You sit.
Her eyes softened.
You sure?
He looked at CiCi sleeping on his chest.
I got her. Go put your feet up.
She pressed her lips together to keep the emotion from becoming a whole thing.
Then she turned and followed the boys.
•••
By nine the apartment was quiet.
CiCi in her crib. Boys in their room. Kiyah’s voice going through the tail end of a bedtime routine that involved two stories, one song, and at least three minutes of Carter asking questions that had no clear answer.
When she came into the living room, Nasir was on the couch with the expansion folder Dame had given him.
He’d changed out of the suit.
Dark joggers. No shirt. Reading glasses on, which he wore at home and only at home because he was convinced nobody outside their marriage needed to know he wore reading glasses.
Kiyah curled into the corner of the couch beside him.
Pulled a blanket over her legs.
He looked up.
Took the glasses off.
“Boys down?” he asked.
“Carter asked me if numbers ever get lonely.” she said.
Nasir blinked.
“Like… individual numbers?”
“I don’t know, Nasir. I said goodnight and left.”
He laughed.
Quiet. Real.
Kiyah looked at the folder on his lap.
She looked at him.
“Tell me everything.” she said.
And he did.
All of it.
The restaurant. Marcus. Dame.
Iyana…he mentioned her the way you mentioned someone who was relevant and nothing more.
The numbers person. Sharp. Had everything prepared. Name’s Iyana Cole.
Kiyah noted it and filed it and didn’t say anything yet.
She listened to the full picture first.
Five cities. Three years. The training program that had made him say yes before the rest of him caught up.
When he finished, he set the folder on the coffee table and looked at her.
“So?” he said.
Kiyah looked at the folder.
Then at her husband.
“You want it.” she said. Not a question.
Nasir’s jaw shifted.
“Yeah.” he said. “I want it.”
She nodded slowly.
He kept his eyes on her face.
“But not without you.” he said. “I’m not doing nothing at that level without you fully in it.”
Kiyah looked at him.
Four months pregnant.
One year old who would follow her into every room of the house including the bathroom.
Three year old twins who were actively discovering the upper limits of their own power.
A husband who was being offered the kind of opportunity that didn’t come twice.
She reached over and put her hand on his.
“Then let’s figure it out.” she said.
Nasir turned his hand over and held hers.
His thumb moving slow across her knuckles.
“You sure?” he asked.
Kiyah looked at him.
At his face.
At the man she’d chosen through everything and would choose again in every version of this life.
“I’m sure.” she said.
Then her eyes went back to the folder.
“But I want to know who Iyana Cole is.” she said.
Her voice was calm.
Even.
But her eyes were doing what they always did when she already knew something and was deciding how much to say.
Nasir looked at her.
He didn’t deflect.
He didn’t perform innocence.
He just told her the truth.
“She’s the investor’s finance person.” he said. “She built the deck. She’s good at what she does.”
Kiyah held his gaze.
“How good?” she asked.
Nasir held it back.
“The best in the room.” he said simply.
“Is she pretty?” Nasir shook his head.
“She wasn’t you.”
Kiyah was quiet for a second.
Then she nodded once.
The way she nodded when she was filing information.
When she was deciding whether it was a concern or just a fact.
“Okay.” she said.
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
He put his arm around her.
CiCi’s monitor on the table, that particular white noise of a sleeping baby.
The apartment quiet.
The city outside doing what the city did.
Kiyah’s hand rested on her stomach.
Nasir’s hand covered it.
They sat there.
In the middle of a life that kept asking more of them.
And kept giving more back.
“We’re going to be okay.” Kiyah said.
Not to him.
Or not only to him.
Nasir pressed his lips to the top of her head.
“We’re always okay.” he said.
She closed her eyes.
And believed him.
The way she believed things that had been proven enough times to stop requiring proof.
Chapter Three
Lani hadn’t thought about him.
That was what she told herself on Tuesday.
On Wednesday she told herself the same thing and almost believed it.
By Thursday…she stopped telling herself anything and just got dressed.
She didn’t dress for him.
She dressed for herself.
That was true.
It just happened that herself wanted to wear the colorful printed top she’d ordered three weeks ago and hadn’t worn yet. The one with the abstract graphic print and the powder blue collar, fitted through the chest, tucked into a cream ribbed mini skirt that sat at mid-thigh. Strappy nude heels. Gold hoops. Watch on her wrist. Her hair down, long and black and wavy, pulled slightly to one side the way she did when she wanted it out of her face but still wanted it to be a thing.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
And felt something she hadn’t felt in a while.
Like herself.
The version before she’d learned to make herself smaller.
Before Malcolm.
Before heartbreak made her practical about everything including how she showed up to her own life.
She pressed her lips together, checked her nails and picked up her keys.
She was going to pick up her children.
That was all.
•••
The afternoon sun was doing too much.
Lani stood near the entrance of Bright Minds at 3:12, bag on her shoulder, sunglasses on, watching the door.
Junior came out first because Junior always came out first.
He ran to her with the full commitment of a child who had been waiting for exactly this.
“MA!”
Lani caught him, swung him once, set him on her hip.
“How was your day?”
Junior held up three fingers.
She had no idea what that meant.
“Amazing.” she said.
He nodded like that tracked.
Malia came out behind him, slower, deliberate, her little backpack on straight like she was the only person in the building who understood how backpacks worked.
She walked to Lani.
Looked up.
“I had a good day.” she said, unprompted, because Malia reported information on her own timeline.
“Good.” Lani kissed her forehead.
And then…
She heard him before she saw him.
Not his voice exactly.
His energy.
The way the air around certain people had a different quality before you could even place them.
She turned her head.
He was coming from the adjacent entrance.
The pediatric therapy side.
Same as before.
Dark jeans. Black tee. A chain sitting at his collarbone…diamond Cuban link, the kind that wasn’t for show but was impossible to ignore.
A watch that said he understood the value of time. His hands…tattooed, like his neck, the kind of tattoos that told a whole story if you knew how to read them.
He had his god daughter’s hand.
She was chattering at him about something with tremendous urgency.
He was listening.
Actually listening.
Not the half-attention adults gave children.
The real kind.
Lani watched him and then immediately stopped watching him because she was watching him and that was a whole thing she wasn’t prepared to examine in a pickup line.
He looked up.
Saw her.
Something moved across his face.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
•••
“They let him in today?” he asked.
His eyes went briefly to Junior on her hip.
Junior, who had been perfectly content a moment ago, immediately looked suspicious about being referenced.
Lani’s mouth curved despite herself.
“Apparently he listens to strangers.” she said.
He looked at her.
Not warmly exactly.
Just…directly.
“Not strangers.” he said. “Clear instructions.”
The correction was mild.
Not arrogant.
Just precise.
Like he said exactly what he meant and no more.
Lani shifted Junior on her hip.
“Noted.” she said.
His god daughter had found Malia and was now showing her something in her palm with great importance. Malia was examining it with equal seriousness.
Junior watched the exchange from the safety of Lani’s arms.
“You pick up every Thursday?” he asked.
“Every Tuesday and Thursday.” Lani said. “You?”
“Tuesdays.” he said. “She had a makeup session today.”
Lani nodded.
A moment of silence.
Not awkward.
The kind of silence that happened between people who weren’t trying to fill space.
She looked at him.
He was looking at the girls, making sure his god daughter wasn’t giving away anything too valuable.
Up close he was…a lot.
That was the honest assessment.
A lot to look at.
A lot of presence.
Dark skin that caught the afternoon light in a way that wasn’t fair. The neck tattoos that started somewhere beneath the collar of his tee. Hands that looked like they’d worked for a long time before they learned how to rest.
He had the face of a man who had seen things and decided to be quiet about it.
Not brooding.
Not closed.
Just…settled.
The kind of settled that came from choosing it.
Lani realized she was looking again.
She looked at her children instead.
“What’s her name?” Lani asked, nodding toward the little girl.
“Zoe.” he said.
“She yours?”
“God daughter.” He glanced at Lani briefly. “Her mother’s my people.”
Lani nodded.
Junior suddenly decided he was done being held and wriggled down. She let him and he immediately went to stand very close to Zoe and Malia like he needed to supervise.
“He’s protective.” the man said.
“He’s nosy.” Lani corrected.
The man’s mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
•••
She didn’t plan it.
That was the truth.
Or — she’d maybe been thinking about it since Wednesday but she hadn’t planned to actually do it.
She looked at him.
Straight.
The way she used to look at men when she was twenty-four and confident and hadn’t been taught yet to make herself smaller.
“Can I have your number?” she asked.
Direct.
No softening.
Just the question.
He looked at her.
And for a second she thought he was going to say yes immediately because why wouldn’t he…
But his jaw shifted.
Something moved through his face.
Honest.
Careful.
“I’m not looking to date right now.” he said.
The words were simple.
They landed exactly the way simple words landed when you weren’t expecting them.
Lani’s face did something.
She felt it happen and couldn’t stop it.
That particular expression…not devastation, but the quick flash of a woman who had extended something real and felt it come back different than she expected.
She recovered fast.
Lifted her chin slightly.
“Okay.” she said.
Smooth.
Controlled.
But her eyes.
Her eyes were a second slower than her voice.
He saw it.
She could tell he saw it because his whole face changed.
Not guilty.
Something softer than that.
Like he hadn’t intended to cause what he’d just caused.
“Hey.” His voice dropped slightly. “I didn’t say that right.”
Lani looked at him.
“You said it fine.” she said, and her voice was steady.
“I said it like you weren’t—” He stopped. Started again, because he was a man who apparently cared about precision. “I’m not in a place for it right now. That’s about me. Not about—” He nodded toward her slightly, the most minimal gesture, but she understood it. “Not about you.”
Lani held his gaze.
He reached into his pocket.
Pulled out his phone.
Looked at her.
“Give me yours.” he said.
She blinked. “You just said—”
“I said I’m not dating.” He looked at her calmly. “I didn’t say don’t give me your number.”
Lani stared at him.
He stared back.
And the corner of his mouth moved.
Not a smile exactly.
But close enough that she felt it somewhere that surprised her.
She took the phone.
Put her number in.
Handed it back.
He looked at it.
Looked at her.
“Rich.” he said.
Like an offering.
His name.
Finally.
“Lani.” she said back.
He nodded once.
Then his voice, quiet.
Unhurried.
“You’re not easy to say no to.” he said.
Not a line.
Not a performance.
Just…honest.
And Lani felt the warmth move across her face before she could decide whether to let it.
She smiled.
Not the guarded one.
Not the managed one.
The real one.
The one that had been waiting for something worth coming out for.
“Rich.” she said.
He looked at her.
“I’ll be at pickup Tuesday.” she said simply.
Then she called her children’s names, collected them, adjusted Junior on her hip and took Malia’s hand, and walked toward her car without looking back.
Because she was Lani.
And she always made the exit.
Behind her, Rich watched her go.
At his side, Zoe tugged his hand.
“Who’s that?” Zoe asked.
Rich looked down at her.
“Nobody.” he said.
Zoe looked at him with the flat skepticism of a three year old who didn’t believe him.
He picked her up.
Started toward his car.
But his phone was in his pocket with a name in it now.
And he was not a man who put things in his phone he intended to do nothing with.
Chapter Four
Iyana Cole texted Nasir on Monday morning.
Not Dame. Not Marcus. Him directly.
Iyana: Would like to see both shops in person this week. Starting with Fifth Ave Cuts Harlem. Tomorrow work? 10am.
Nasir stared at the message for a long second before replying.
Nasir: 10 works. Address in the original packet.
He set the phone down on the kitchen counter and didn’t mention it to Kiyah right then. Not because he was hiding anything. Because the kids were loud and breakfast was happening and some conversations needed space that wasn’t filled with cereal and demands for more juice.
But he felt the weight of it.
Iyana wasn’t just coming to see chairs and mirrors. She was coming to see him in his element. To measure if the brand could travel the way the numbers said it could. And maybe, underneath that, to see something else.
He already knew what she would find.
•••
She arrived at 9:57.
Black Range Rover, same as his but newer. Tinted windows. She stepped out in tailored black slacks that moved like they respected her body and a cream silk blouse that caught the Harlem morning light without trying. Hair still pinned back, the same small gold earrings. Folder under one arm, designer bag over the other. No heels this time…practical black flats that said she planned to walk every inch of the place.
The barbers noticed before she even reached the door.
Tone was mid-fade on a regular when his clippers slowed. Dre, sweeping his station, paused with the broom still in his hands. Smoke looked up from the phone in his lap, eyebrows lifting. Boo and Rico, arguing over last night’s game near the waiting chairs, both went quiet at the same time.
She was beautiful.
Not loud beautiful. Not the kind that screamed for attention. The kind that made the room adjust itself around her. Sharp cheekbones, rich brown skin, eyes that missed nothing, posture like she’d negotiated with gravity and won. Natural hair sleek and pinned with purpose. The way she moved said competence and control, but the shape of her said something softer underneath if a man ever got close enough to find it.
None of them were single.
So they looked, the way men who still had eyes looked, but nobody said anything slick. Nobody whistled. Nobody stepped out of line.
Respect was the code here.
Nasir came out of the back office before the bell finished ringing.
“Iyana.” he said, voice even. “Good morning.”
“Nasir.” She extended her hand the same way she had in the restaurant. Firm, brief, professional. But her eyes held his a second longer than necessary. “Thank you for making time.”
“No problem. Let me show you around.”
He didn’t touch her back to guide her. Kept a clear foot of space between them as they moved through the shop.
The place hummed with its usual rhythm of clippers buzzing, old school R&B low in the speakers, the low laughter of men who’d known each other too long to pretend.
Fifth Ave Cuts didn’t look like a corporate prototype. It looked like what it was…a sanctuary that had grown up from one chair and stubborn belief.
Iyana took it all in without speaking at first.
The original chair Nasir had started with was still in use, worn leather but maintained like a relic. The clean stations. The wall of framed photos with kids from the neighborhood who’d come through the mentorship program, before-and-after shots of barbers who’d been court-mandated or fresh out and now had skills and steady pay.
The community board with job postings, GED resources, housing leads. The scent of shea butter, aftershave, and something like home.
“This isn’t what I expected.” she said quietly as they stood near the back.
Nasir raised an eyebrow. “What’d you expect?”
“Typical shop. Loud. Chaotic. Ego.” She turned to look at him directly. “This feels… intentional.”
“It is.”
She stepped closer to one of the photos of a young man in cap and gown, arms around Nasir. “You built more than a business.”
“Had to. Couldn’t just cut hair and act like the rest of their lives didn’t exist.”
Iyana nodded slowly. Her shoulder brushed his arm as she turned…accidental, maybe. But she didn’t move away right away. “Most men in your position would’ve franchised the easy way. Kept it surface. You went deeper.”
Her voice had lowered. Not seductive exactly. Subtle. The kind of tone that suggested she saw him, really saw the layers, and appreciated them. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth, the kind that invited him to smile back if he wanted.
Nasir kept his face neutral.
“The training program is non-negotiable for the expansion.” he said, steering them back to business. “Every new shop runs the same pipeline. We don’t just sell cuts. We build men.”
Iyana studied him. Her eyes traced the line of his jaw, the set of his shoulders under the black Fifth Ave Cuts polo, then back to his face. “I can see why Marcus is all in. You’re… authentic. Rare in this space.”
The compliment lingered a second too long. She tilted her head slightly, the gold earring catching light. “And the way you carry it. Quiet power. I respect that.”
Nasir knew the game.
He’d seen women like Iyana before…brilliant, ambitious, used to getting what they wanted because they rarely met resistance worth respecting. She wasn’t throwing herself at him. It was finer than that. A current underneath the words. An interest that went beyond balance sheets.
He met her eyes steady.
“Appreciate it. But this is family work. My wife helped shape the vision early. The kids keep me grounded in why we do it right.”
Iyana’s expression didn’t flicker. She was too sharp for that. But something shifted behind her eyes…acknowledgment, maybe a touch of disappointment she filed away professionally.
“Of course.” she said smoothly. “Kiyah, right? Strong foundation matters at this level.”
She asked smart questions after that…about square footage, supply chains, how the Harlem location’s reputation translated to foot traffic versus the Brooklyn one. She took notes. Stayed close when they moved between stations, brushing past him in the narrower hallway to the supply room. Subtle touches. A light laugh at one of Tone’s dry jokes when Nasir introduced her to the team. The barbers kept it respectful, “Nice to meet you, ma.” nothing extra, but their glances said they saw her. Appreciated the view. Kept it moving.
Nasir walked her out at the end.
She paused by her Rover.
“I’ll see the Brooklyn location later this week if that works.” she said. “This was… enlightening, Nasir. You’re even more impressive in your world.”
He nodded once. “Business only, Iyana. That’s how we move.”
She smiled then, small, knowing. “Understood.”
But the way she said it carried the rest…
For now.
She drove off.
Nasir stood on the sidewalk a moment, hands in his pockets, watching the truck disappear into Harlem traffic. He pulled out his phone and texted Kiyah.
Meeting done. Heading home after I check on BK. Love you.
Simple. True.
He wasn’t fucking up his marriage for subtle glances or silk blouses or compliments that felt like tests. He’d built too much. Loved too deep. Some doors stayed closed on purpose.
•••
Kiyah was folding laundry when Shaye let herself in with her key.
The apartment smelled like vanilla candles and the faint sweetness of the pregnancy-safe body butter Kiyah had been rubbing on her belly all morning. CiCi was down for her nap. The twins were “helping” by turning the living room into a racetrack with every single toy they owned.
“Girl, I brought reinforcements.” Shaye announced, holding up two grocery bags. “Fruit, those weird pregnancy popsicles you like, and wine for me since you’re growing a whole human again.”
Kiyah laughed from the couch, one hand on her rounded stomach. Four and a half months now and showing enough that clothes were starting to feel like suggestions. “You’re a saint. Cairo just tried to convince Carter that the couch is a racetrack ramp. Again.”
Shaye set the bags down and immediately scooped up a rogue toy car before it became a hazard. She was the twins godmother for a reason. Besides being her best friend, she was practical, loud when needed, the kind of friend who showed up without being asked because she always knew when Kiyah needed her.
Curly hair pulled into a ponytail, oversized hoodie, leggings. Beautiful in that effortless best-friend way.
“Carter, baby, that couch is for sitting, not launching.” Shaye called. “Cairo, you know better.”
Carter looked up with that serious face.
Just like his father.
Cairo just grinned like chaos was its own reward.
Kiyah shook her head, smiling.
Shaye dropped onto the couch beside her, pulling Kiyah’s feet into her lap without asking and starting a slow massage. “How you feeling? For real.”
“Tired. Good tired. Nasir’s got this expansion thing heating up. He’s solid, but…” Kiyah trailed off, rubbing her belly in that unconscious circle. “It’s going to pull more of him. I can feel it.”
Shaye nodded, thumbs working a knot in Kiyah’s arch. “And you’re carrying baby number four while chasing three tiny terrorists. You’re allowed to feel stretched, Ki. That man better be rubbing feet when he gets home too.”
Kiyah’s laugh was soft. “He does. Last night he had CiCi asleep on his chest for an hour so I could soak in the tub. He’s still him.”
The front door clicked.
Nasir walked in, still in the polo from the shop, duffel over his shoulder. His eyes found Kiyah immediately and softened the way they always did.
“There’s my wife.”
He crossed the room, bent down, and kissed her slow. Not performative. The kind that said I see you carrying all this. His hand covered hers on her belly for a second.
Shaye smirked. “Y’all still nasty. Good.”
Nasir chuckled under his breath, dapped Shaye up, then went to wrangle the twins before they turned the coffee table into a launchpad.
Kiyah watched him…how he got low with Carter to talk about the “physics” of the racetrack, how he let Cairo climb him like a jungle gym but with boundaries. Solid. Hers.
“How was the shop visit?” she asked when he came back with both boys momentarily distracted by snacks.
Nasir sat on the ottoman in front of her, took over the foot massage from Shaye without a word. His thumbs were firmer, more knowing.
“It was good. Iyana saw the vision. Team was respectful. Place spoke for itself.”
Kiyah searched his face.
He met her eyes, no hesitation. “She’s sharp with the numbers. That’s it. I made sure she knew the foundation is us. Always.”
Shaye raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, the good kind of quiet that meant she trusted them.
Kiyah exhaled, the tension she hadn’t named easing. She reached down and touched Nasir’s cheek.
“I know.” she said simply.
Because she did.
The rest of the afternoon unfolded easy.
Shaye helped with dinner prep while Nasir played with the kids. CiCi woke up fussy and went straight to her father’s arms like he was the cure. Kiyah sat with her feet up, watching her family fill the apartment with noise and love…the kind of noise that made the bigger world feel manageable.
Later, after Shaye headed out with hugs and promises to come back soon, after baths and stories and the slow ritual of getting three small humans settled, Nasir and Kiyah ended up on the couch again.
Folder on the table. Lights low.
He pulled her close, hand lying protectively over her stomach.
“Iyana wants to see Brooklyn too.” he said quietly. “But this only goes where we both say yes.”
Kiyah turned her face into his neck, breathing him in.
“Then we say yes together. Smart. Careful. Us first.”
Nasir kissed her forehead.
“Always us first.”
Outside, Manhattan kept moving.
Inside, the Grants held their piece of steady.
And for tonight, that was enough.
The week would bring more meetings, more looks from Iyana that tested boundaries without crossing them, more moments where Nasir would choose his wife in the small ways that mattered.
Kiyah would feel the pull of expansion against the beautiful weight of pregnancy and motherhood. Shaye would keep showing up like best friends do.
But they had built something real.
And real had weight.
It held.
Chapter Five
Lani sat cross-legged on her couch with a glass of chilled rosé balanced on her knee.
The apartment was finally quiet. Junior and Malia down for the night after an epic battle involving bubbles, two books, and one very dramatic negotiation about tomorrow’s outfits.
Almost quiet.
Nay was still up.
Not causing trouble. Never causing trouble. She was nine now and at the stage where she supervised herself and occasionally other people.
She was at the kitchen table with her sketchbook, earbuds in, drawing something with the focused seriousness she brought to everything.
She’d been with Lani for the week. Her scheduled time. And Nay had settled into it the way she always settled into Lani’s apartment… quietly, helpfully, without requiring anything beyond the basics.
She’d helped put the twins to bed tonight without being asked.
Two stories. One song. She’d even handled Junior’s negotiation about tomorrow’s outfit with the calm authority of someone who had been watching adults do it for years and had simply learned from the best ones.
Lani had stood in the hallway listening and felt something that lived between gratitude and heartbreak.
Because Nay shouldn’t have to be that capable.
And yet.
Lani’s thumb hovered over Kiyah’s name.
She tapped FaceTime before she could talk herself out of it.
Kiyah answered on the third ring, face filling the screen with that soft pregnancy glow and a messy bun on top of her head. She was in bed, back propped against pillows, one hand resting on her belly.
“Whew, look at you calling me at night like we back in Orlando.” Kiyah said, smiling big. “What’s wrong? Or what’s right?”
Lani laughed, but it came out a little nervous. She tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just… needed to tell somebody before I overthink it into oblivion.”
Kiyah’s eyebrows shot up. She sat up straighter, adjusting the phone. “Oh? Spill. Right now.”
Lani took a sip of wine, then set the glass down.
“There’s this man.”
Kiyah’s whole face lit up like Christmas. “A man? Not just any man. You said this man. Details, Lani. Full name, height, criminal record, dick print…I need everything.”
Lani burst out laughing, covering her face with one hand as heat rushed to her cheeks. “Ki-Ki, stop!”
“Nope. Talk.”
From the kitchen table, Nay’s head lifted.
One earbud out.
Eyes immediately sharp.
Because Nay didn’t miss things. She never had.
“A man?” Nay said.
Lani turned. “Baby, mind your business.”
“You’re in the living room.” Nay pointed out. “This is a shared space.”
Kiyah’s face appeared at the edge of the screen. “NAY-NAY?”
Nay leaned forward, craning to see the phone. “Hi Ki-Ki.”
“Baby!” Kiyah’s voice warmed immediately. “Why are you still up?”
“I was drawing.” Nay looked at Lani with those eyes. The ones that saw everything. “Who’s the man?”
“Nobody.” Lani said.
“You’re blushing.” Nay said.
“I’m not.”
Nay put both elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands.
“You are.” she said patiently. “Your ears do that thing.”
Kiyah cackled from the phone. “SHE KNOWS THE EAR THING.”
Lani pressed her hand to the side of her face.
“Naylani. Earbuds. Sketchbook. Go.”
Nay studied her for a long moment.
Then she said, “Is he nice?”
The question was small.
And it landed with the full weight of everything behind it.
Because Nay wasn’t asking the way a child asked about something trivial.
She was asking the way a child who had been in a house when things went wrong asked.
With her whole careful heart.
Lani’s chest tightened.
“I don’t really know him yet, baby.” she said, softer now.
Nay nodded.
Processed it.
“Okay.” she said. Then, carefully, “But does he seem nice?”
Lani held her gaze.
“Yeah.” she said honestly. “He does.”
Nay held it for a second longer.
Then she put her earbud back in.
Picked up her pencil.
And went back to drawing like the conversation had simply been data she needed before she could return to her work.
Kiyah was quiet on the screen for a moment.
Lani looked at her.
Kiyah’s eyes were already a little wet.
“Don’t.” Lani said quietly.
“I’m not.” Kiyah whispered.
They both knew she was.
•••
Lani walked Nay to her room thirty minutes later.
Nay climbed into bed, pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, and looked at Lani with those serious eyes.
“You can tell me about him.” Nay said. “If you want. When you know more.”
Lani sat on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah?”
Nay nodded once. “I’m a good secret keeper.”
Lani looked at her.
At this nine year old who had figured out how to be steady in a world that had given her too many reasons not to be.
She reached out and pushed a braid back from Nay’s forehead.
“You are.” Lani said. “The best.”
Nay’s mouth curved.
“Good.” she said. “Now go call Ki-Ki back. She’s probably been staring at her phone since you hung up.”
Lani laughed.
“Goodnight, baby.”
“Goodnight, Mama.”
Lani stilled.
Nay called her that sometimes.
Not always.
Just when things felt settled enough to say it.
She pressed her lips to Nay’s forehead.
Then she went back to the couch.
Picked up her phone.
Kiyah had already sent three texts.
Kiyah: okay I’m waiting
Kiyah: that child is wise beyond her years and I’m not okay
Kiyah: CALL ME BACK
Lani smiled.
Tapped FaceTime.
•••
Kiyah answered before it even fully rang.
“OKAY. Continue. Man. Details.”
Lani exhaled, smiling despite herself. “His name is Rich. I met him at drop-off last week. He was helping his goddaughter, and Junior was doing his whole ‘no go’ protest at the door. Rich just… talked to him. Calm, steady, no yelling, no bargaining. Junior walked right in. It was smooth.”
Kiyah was already grinning. “Okay. Fine Black man with authority voice. I’m invested.”
“He’s fine, Ki.” Lani’s voice softened. “Like… 90s fine. Tattoos on his neck and hands, dark skin, quiet but not shy. Built like he works with his body but carries it easy. He’s not loud about it. Just… there. Present. I asked for his number.”
Kiyah squealed so loud Lani had to turn the volume down on her phone.
“Yasssss! Get your motherloving groove back!”
Lani blushed hard, the color spreading across her cheeks and neck. She buried her face in the throw pillow for a second, laughing.
“Stop it! You’re so loud.”
“I don’t care! My best friend finally saw a man she likes and actually made a move? After all that Malcolm bullshit? Yes ma’am. I’m proud. I’m emotional. I’m pregnant and emotional, so it’s double.”
Lani peeked out from the pillow, still blushing but eyes bright. “I love you, Ki-Ki.”
“I love you more. Now tell me everything. Did he give you the number? Have you texted? Is he married? Divorced? Be specific.”
Lani shook her head, smiling. “He said he’s not looking to date right now, but he still wanted mine. Told me I’m not easy to say no to. Then he said his name. Rich. I told him mine. That’s it so far. I’m picking the kids up Tuesday, so I’ll probably see him again.”
Kiyah clutched her chest dramatically. “He said you’re not easy to say no to? Girl. That man is interested. He just got walls up. You know how these fine ones are…been through some things, trying to move careful. But he took your number? That’s a yes in man language.”
Lani bit her lip, replaying the moment in the parking lot. The way Rich had looked at her after she handed the phone back. That almost-smile. The steady way he held eye contact.
“I felt something.” she admitted quietly. “Not just attraction. Like… the air got quieter around him. He made Junior listen without raising his voice. He was listening to his goddaughter like what she said actually mattered. I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. I’m probably building it up.”
Kiyah’s expression turned serious, the playful energy softening.
“It’s not nothing. I in felt the same way with Nas.When you know…you know.” Kiyah said. “You’ve been hiding since Malcolm. Playing it safe, making yourself smaller, focusing on the twins and work. If this man made you feel seen enough to ask for his number in a daycare parking lot? That’s something. Don’t talk yourself out of it before it even starts.”
Lani nodded slowly.
“I just… I like how I felt standing there talking to him.” she said. “Like myself again. Not the cautious version. The old me.”
“Then be her.” Kiyah said firmly. “The one who used to shut it down and make people nervous. Bring her back. Slowly. Safely. But bring her.”
Lani smiled, the blush finally fading into a warm glow. “You always know what to say.”
“That’s my job as your best friend.” Kiyah pointed at the screen. “Now. Did you see how Nay asked if he was nice?”
Lani was quiet for a second.
“Yeah.” she said.
Kiyah’s voice went soft. “That baby loves you. She just wants her mama safe.”
Lani pressed her lips together.
“I know.” she said.
“She’s also a nine year old with the emotional intelligence of a forty year old therapist.” Kiyah added. “So if you introduce anyone to her life, they better pass the Nay test.”
“He doesn’t even know I have another child.”
“Yet.” Kiyah said. “But he will.”
They talked for another twenty minutes…about the kids, about Kiyah’s pregnancy, about Nasir’s expansion and how he’s still coming home every night like clockwork.
Kiyah filled her in on CiCi’s latest dramatic sleep habits and the twins turning the living room into a racetrack daily.
Before they hung up, Kiyah pointed at the screen.
“Tuesday. You wear something cute but not try-hard. You speak to that man. And you text me after. No overthinking.”
“Yes ma’am.” Lani said, saluting playfully.
“I’m serious, Lani. Get your groove back. You deserve it.”
They said their I love yous and goodnights.
Lani ended the call and sat there for a long moment, phone in her lap, smiling at nothing.
She opened her messages. Rich’s name was there. No text yet. She wasn’t going to send one first. Not yet.
She looked toward the hallway.
Nay’s light was off.
The apartment was finally, fully quiet.
But it felt less empty than it had before she called.
Tuesday felt closer than it had this morning.
•••
Tuesday came with butterflies she refused to name.
Lani stood at the Bright Minds entrance again, this time in a soft cream sweater that slipped off one shoulder just enough and high-waisted jeans that made her feel put together without screaming for attention. Hair down and wavy. Light gloss. Nothing extra. Just — her.
Junior ran out first like always. “Ma!”
She scooped him up, kissing his cheeks until he giggled.
Malia followed, calm and regal as ever. “I drew a flower.”
“It’s beautiful, baby.”
Lani’s eyes scanned toward the other entrance without meaning to.
Rich was already there.
Black hoodie, dark jeans, same chain resting against his chest. Zoe on his hip now, her little arms around his neck like he was her favorite place in the world. He looked over and their eyes met.
That same steady recognition.
He gave a small nod.
Not cold.
Just acknowledging.
Lani nodded back.
The girls were already drifting toward each other again, Zoe showing Malia a sticker on her hand. Junior watched them suspiciously but stayed close to his mother.
Rich walked over. Casual but intentional. Zoe still in his arms.
“You made it through another pickup.” he said, voice low and even.
“Barely. Junior tried to negotiate five more minutes of playtime with the teacher.”
Rich’s mouth twitched…that almost smile again. “He’s two. Negotiation is his love language.”
Lani laughed softly. “Apparently.”
A beat of comfortable quiet.
Zoe pointed at Junior. “He my friend now.”
Rich looked down at her. “That right?”
Junior nodded like it was a done deal.
Lani shifted her bag on her shoulder. “How was your day?”
“Long. Good though.” He glanced at her, really looked. “You look good.”
Simple. No extra flourishes.
But it landed.
Lani felt the warmth hit her face again. “Thank you.”
He didn’t push. Didn’t fill the space with lines. Just stood there with that same quiet presence that had caught her attention the first time.
“I thought about texting you.” he said after a moment. Honest. “Decided to wait till I saw you again. Make sure you still felt like giving me your number was a good idea.”
Lani met his eyes. “It still feels like a good idea.”
Rich studied her for a second.
Then gave one slow nod.
“Aight.”
That was all.
But it was enough.
Zoe started wiggling to get down and the moment broke naturally. The kids played in their tiny circle while the two adults stood nearby, not forcing conversation but not rushing away either.
When it was time to go, Rich looked at her.
“Tuesday again?” he asked.
“Tuesday and Thursday for me.”
He adjusted Zoe on his hip. “I’ll be here Tuesday.”
Lani smiled.
Real.
Unguarded.
“See you then, Rich.”
She gathered her children and walked toward her car, heart beating a little steadier than it had in years.
Behind her, Rich watched her go again.
This time he didn’t say nobody when Zoe asked who that lady was.
He just picked up his goddaughter a little tighter and headed to his own car.
The number in his phone felt heavier now.
In a good way.
Chapter Six
Iyana Cole pulled up to the Brooklyn location at 10:15 sharp on Thursday morning.
She had chosen a different look this time. Still professional, still expensive, but softer around the edges. Charcoal pencil skirt that hit just above the knee, a fitted ivory blouse unbuttoned one notch lower than the Harlem visit, and a tailored blazer left open.
Her natural hair was down today, falling in loose, defined curls that framed her face and brushed her shoulders. The small gold earrings remained, but she’d added a delicate gold chain that dipped between her collarbones. Heels this time—tall, black, confident.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Nasir was waiting outside when she stepped out of the Rover. He kept his expression neutral, hands in the pockets of his black Fifth Ave Cuts hoodie, but he clocked the changes immediately. The hair down. The extra button. The way she moved like she was walking into a room she already partially owned.
“Iyana.” he greeted, voice even. No dap this time. Just a short nod.
“Nasir.” She smiled, small and knowing, as she extended her hand. The handshake lingered half a second longer than strictly necessary. “Brooklyn edition. I’ve been looking forward to this one.”
He held the door for her. “After you.”
The Brooklyn shop was larger than Harlem but carried the same DNA. Higher ceilings, more stations, a dedicated waiting lounge with leather couches and a flat-screen playing old NBA highlights on mute. Digital booking screens mounted near the entrance. A chalkboard section listing apprenticeship openings. The energy was slightly different here—more foot traffic from the surrounding neighborhoods, a younger crowd mixed with the OGs who’d followed Nasir from the first location. Clippers buzzed. laughter rolled. The same low R&B playlist thrummed underneath everything.
Harlem breathed. It had rhythm in its bones. It moved like memory.
Brooklyn moved like expansion.
The barbers noticed her the moment she crossed the threshold.
Tone wasn’t here today. This was Rico’s day to run point. And he was watching everything from the corner of his eye.
This crew was a little louder by nature. Tone’s cousin Kev was mid-cut and actually paused the clippers completely for a beat. Jay and Mike exchanged a quick glance. Even old head Curtis, who rarely looked up from his station, lifted his eyes and gave an appreciative nod before going back to his client.
Iyana moved through the space like she belonged there, folder tucked under her arm, heels clicking against the polished floor. She took her time, asking questions about square footage, client retention rates, how the mentorship pipeline translated to this location. Her voice stayed crisp and professional, but her body language told a quieter story.
She stood closer to Nasir than she needed to when they reviewed the community board. Her shoulder brushed his arm again when she leaned in to read one of the framed success stories. When they walked down the narrow hallway toward the supply room and break area, she let her hip graze his as she passed him in the doorway.
Subtle.
But not invisible.
Nasir felt every calculated touch. He’d been around long enough to recognize when a woman was testing waters without diving in headfirst. Iyana wasn’t being reckless. She was elegant about it—compliments wrapped in business questions, eye contact that held just long enough to feel intimate, a soft laugh when he made a dry comment about franchise logistics.
“You really did build something special here.” she said as they stood near the back, watching two younger barbers train a new mentee on a taper fade. “Most men with your story would’ve stopped at two shops and called it winning. You’re thinking legacy.”
Her eyes traced the line of his shoulders, then moved up to his face. The gold chain at her neck caught the light as she tilted her head. “It’s attractive. The discipline. The vision. Not a lot of men can balance both.”
Nasir kept his posture relaxed, but his voice stayed firm and clear.
“Like I told you. It’s not just me. Kiyah’s been part of every major decision since day one. The kids keep the purpose honest. This only scales if the foundation stays solid.”
Iyana didn’t flinch. She was too polished for that. Instead, she offered a slow nod, lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile but felt warmer than professional courtesy.
“Of course. Family first. I respect that.” She paused, letting her gaze linger on him a moment longer. “Doesn’t mean a man can’t be appreciated for what he’s built on his own.”
The air between them thickened for half a second.
Nasir met her eyes directly.
“Appreciation is one thing. I keep my boundaries where they belong.”
Iyana held the look, then gave a soft, almost amused exhale. “Message received, Nasir Grant.” Her tone stayed light, but there was a glint in her eye that said she wasn’t used to doors staying closed so cleanly. “Still… it’s refreshing to meet someone who means it.”
He kept space between them.
She noticed that.
Of course she did.
“You’re real cautious. I don’t bite, Nasir.” she observed.
“I’m married.”
It was calm.
Not defensive.
Not aggressive.
Just fact.
Her gaze held his.
“I respect that.”
It was quiet for a moment.
“But you’re also ambitious.”
That word hung heavier than it needed to.
Nasir didn’t blink.
“Ambition doesn’t require confusion.”
That got a real smile out of her.
She asked a few more pointed questions about build-out timelines and union wage structures for the training program, taking careful notes on her tablet. Every so often her fingers would brush his when she handed him the device to review a projection, or she’d lean in close enough that he caught the faint scent of her perfume…something warm and expensive with a hint of vanilla and spice.
The barbers kept their respect. A few appreciative glances, a couple of low “damn” comments under their breath when she wasn’t looking, but nothing crossed the line. They knew who Nasir was. They knew the code.
When the tour wrapped, Nasir walked her back to the Rover.
Iyana paused beside the driver’s door, keys in hand, curls moving slightly in the Brooklyn breeze.
“This was even better than Harlem.” she said. “The numbers looked good on paper. In person? They make sense. You make sense.” She let the last part sit for a beat. “Marcus is going to be pleased.”
Nasir nodded once. “Glad it met expectations.”
She opened the door but didn’t get in right away. Instead, she turned back to him, one hand resting on the top of the frame.
“You know,” she said, voice light but deliberate, “most men in your position would’ve entertained the ambiguity.”
Nasir didn’t move.
“I’m not most men.”
She smiled again.
“That’s what makes this compelling.”
She extended her hand.
“I’ll draft the next phase proposal. We’ll discuss at dinner.” She said.
The offer was wrapped in business, but the undertone was unmistakable.
Nasir kept his hands in his pockets.
He looked at her hand.
Then at her.
“Bring it to the house.” he said evenly. “My wife’s a great cook and likes seeing what we’re building.”
There was the shift.
Subtle.
Clean.
Intentional.
Her hand lowered slowly.
“That might be… unconventional.”
“So are we.”
Silence.
Then she gave a small nod.
“I’ll consider it.”
“I don’t play about my wife, Iyana. Let’s remain respectful and keep this business going and clean.”
She studied him for a long moment, then gave that small, knowing smile again.
“Understood.” Her eyes flicked over him once more…shoulders, jaw, the steady way he stood like nothing could shake him. “For now.” She whispered.
She slid into the driver’s seat, the skirt riding up just enough to show a smooth stretch of thigh before she adjusted it. The door closed with a soft thud. The Rover purred to life.
Nasir stood on the sidewalk as she pulled away, watching the truck disappear into Brooklyn traffic.
He pulled out his phone and sent the same text he’d sent after Harlem.
Brooklyn visit done. We’ll talk later. Love you.
•••
Later that evening, the Grant apartment felt like home again.
Kiyah was on the couch with her feet up, CiCi asleep on her chest, one hand gently rubbing the swell of her belly. The twins were finally down after a long day of “helping” Tone put together a new bookshelf that had mostly turned into them handing him random screws and asking why.
Nasir walked in, still in his hoodie from the shop, and the tension he hadn’t named all day eased the second he saw his wife.
He crossed the room, bent down, and kissed her slow and deep, mindful of the sleeping baby between them.
Kiyah smiled against his mouth. “Long day?”
“Productive.” He sat beside her, one big hand covering hers on her stomach. “Iyana came through Brooklyn. She liked what she saw.”
Kiyah searched his face the way she always did. “And?”
“And nothing.” He brushed a curl back from her forehead. “Business stayed business. I made sure she knew where my lines are.”
Kiyah studied him a moment longer, then nodded once, satisfied.
“Good.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Because this right here? This is what matters. And I’m telling you now, she ain’t Lani.” He knew what she meant.
Nasir wrapped his arm around her, careful not to wake CiCi, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“You ain’t ever gotta worry about that. I ain’t losing my home.”
Chapter Seven
The apartment felt… quiet.
Not silent, but balanced in a way Kiyah had almost forgotten was possible. CiCi sat in the middle of the floor, aggressively stacking plastic rings in every wrong order possible, clapping for herself with the confidence of a child who had never known failure.
“YAYYYY!” she shouted when the smallest ring somehow balanced on top, wobbling like it might topple any second.
Kiyah sat cross-legged on the rug nearby in one of Nasir’s oversized tees and black biker shorts that had become her pregnancy uniform.
One hand rested protectively on the gentle swell of her belly, while the other scrolled lazily through her phone. No twin wrestling matches to break up. No sudden screams over a stolen toy. No constant redirection of toddler chaos every thirty seconds.
Because the twins weren’t home.
Shaye had picked them up that morning, and they were with her mother until six.
Shaye’s mama had turned her finished basement into something straight out of a Pinterest dream for at-home daycare. Labeled cubbies with each child’s name. Color-coded learning charts on the walls. A big calendar board where they practiced days of the week and weather. A cozy reading corner with beanbags and picture books. Tiny desks for “work time.” Even a mini science station with safe magnets and colored water bottles.
Cairo and Carter had come home yesterday reciting the days of the week in perfect order like they had boardroom jobs.
“Mon-day. Tues-day. Wed-nes-day,” Carter had announced with serious little-man energy.
Cairo had added proudly, “And Friday is pizza day, Mama.”
Kiyah had nearly cried right there in the hallway.
She hadn’t grown up with a mother.
But somehow, Kiyah had built her own village anyway.
Intentionally.
Chosen family. Real family. The kind that showed up without being asked and loved her babies like their own.
Kiyah exhaled slowly, a deep, grateful breath that settled somewhere behind her ribs. She looked at CiCi, who was now wobbling toward her on chubby legs, arms out for balance.
“Come here, Mama’s girl.” she murmured, opening her arms.
CiCi fell into her lap like gravity was a suggestion, immediately grabbing for the thin gold necklace around Kiyah’s neck and trying to chew on it.
The doorbell rang.
CiCi froze mid-chew.
Then her whole face lit up like fireworks.
“DADA!” she screamed, even though Nasir wasn’t due back for hours.
Kiyah laughed softly. “You don’t even know who it is, crazy girl.”
She stood carefully, one hand supporting her lower back, and padded to the door.
When she opened it, Lani was standing there looking like she’d stepped out of a casual fashion shoot. Fitted black leggings that hugged her curves, a cropped white tee that showed just a sliver of smooth brown midriff, hair down and glossy in loose waves, sunglasses pushed up on her head like a headband. She carried a small tote bag that probably held snacks or wine or both.
Lani walked in like she paid half the rent.
“Where my god-baby at?” she demanded, already scanning the room.
CiCi squealed at the sound of her voice and tried to run full speed toward her favorite person. She made it three steps before tripping over nothing and accepting her fate as Lani scooped her up mid-fall.
“There she isssss.” Lani cooed, peppering CiCi’s chubby cheeks with loud kisses until the baby giggled so hard she started hiccupping. “God mommy missed this face. Yes I did. Yes I did.”
Kiyah shut the door and leaned against it, arms crossed, smiling at the scene.
“Shaye took the twins?” Lani asked over CiCi’s head, still bouncing the baby gently.
“Yep. Dropped them at her mama’s this morning. I actually heard myself think for the first time in weeks. No screaming. No ‘he hit me.’ Just… peace.”
Lani grinned. “Must be nice.”
“It is.” Kiyah said, walking back to the couch. “They’re learning so much over there. Spanish, numbers, letters. Carter came home saying so many new words. Cairo told me he loves it there. Her setup is like a little classroom. They have structure and fun at the same time. I’m so grateful.”
Lani settled on the couch with CiCi on her lap, letting the baby play with her long hair.
“You built a hell of a village, Ki. You didn’t have a mom growing up, but look at you. Shaye’s mama stepping in like that? That’s love. Real love. Those boys are gonna be smart as hell because of it.”
Kiyah’s eyes softened. She rubbed her belly in that unconscious circle she did now.
“I know. I look at them sometimes and just… thank God I didn’t have to do this alone. I made my own family. My community. People who show up for me and my babies without question. It means everything.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, CiCi babbling happily between them, dragging a stuffed elephant across Lani’s thigh by its trunk.
Then Kiyah shifted.
“I gotta tell you something.”
Lani’s head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing instantly.
“Why you say it like that?”
Kiyah gave her a look. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“Is it about Nasir?” Lani asked, already sitting up straighter.
Kiyah paused just long enough.
Lani’s whole posture changed. “Oh hell no.”
“Relax.” Kiyah said, rolling her eyes but fighting a smile.
“WHAT happened?” Lani demanded, voice rising.
Kiyah sighed and leaned back into the cushions.
“There’s this woman from the investment side. Her name’s Iyana.”
Lani blinked once. Then twice.
“…Her.”
Kiyah stared. “You know her?”
“No. But I don’t like how you said her name. Like it’s a problem.”
Kiyah laughed softly despite herself. “She’s been visiting both shops. Harlem first. Then Brooklyn this week.”
“And?”
“And she’s beautiful. Like… really beautiful. I can tell by the way Nasir described her. Sharp. Ambitious. The kind of woman who walks in a room and men notice.”
Lani’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“And?”
“And she knows it. She’s been… subtle. But not that subtle. Lingering a little too long. Compliments that sound like business but feel like something else. Brushing past him. That whole ‘you’re so authentic and rare’ vibe.”
Lani’s entire energy shifted into protective best-friend mode.
“Oh hell no, bitch. What’s her name? Spell it. Right now.”
Kiyah laughed. “Lani—”
“Spell. It.”
“Iyana. Cole.”
Lani was already pulling out her phone, typing furiously with one hand while balancing CiCi with the other.
CiCi tried to grab the phone. “Hold on, baby. God mommy doing research right now. This is important.”
Kiyah leaned over Lani’s shoulder as the search results loaded. Professional headshots. LinkedIn profile. A couple of event photos.
Lani’s mouth dropped open.
“…Well damn.”
Kiyah snatched the phone and scrolled.
She paused.
Bit her lip.
“Okay.” she said slowly, exhaling. “She’s fucking beautiful. I can’t even lie about that.”
Lani looked at her, eyebrows raised high. “Right?!”
Kiyah zoomed in on one photo, studying the sharp cheekbones, the sleek natural hair, the confident posture.
“She’s trifling for coming onto my husband like that… but she’s pretty.”
There was a short moment of silence.
Then Lani turned her head slowly, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Is she my pretty?”
Kiyah blinked.
Then immediately reached over and lightly smacked Lani’s thigh.
“Hell no, bitch! Nobody is your pretty.”
Lani burst out laughing, head thrown back, the sound bright and unrestrained.
CiCi copied the energy immediately, clapping her hands and laughing too even though she had zero idea what was funny.
Kiyah narrowed her eyes playfully, fighting her own smile.
“Don’t start this gay shit though. I don’t need my husband getting any new ideas.”
Lani froze mid-laugh.
Her cheeks flushed with sudden color.
Then she busted out laughing even harder, covering her face with one hand.
“You are insane.” she wheezed.
“I’m serious!” Kiyah shot back, grinning now. “You already dramatic enough. I don’t need you flirting in my living room on top of everything.”
Lani gasped dramatically, still blushing. “I do not flirt!”
“You absolutely flirt.”
“I do not!”
“You literally asked a whole man for his number in a daycare parking lot while holding your toddler.”
Lani choked on her own laugh. “That was DIFFERENT!”
“Oh, so you bold bold now?” Kiyah teased, poking her in the side.
Lani tried to keep a straight face and failed. “You are a menace.”
They dissolved into laughter again, the kind that came easy between women who had seen each other through heartbreak, growth, and everything in between. CiCi toddled between them holding the stuffed elephant like she was the official mediator of the conversation.
Kiyah wiped her eyes, still chuckling, then her voice softened a little.
“She did try it though.” she admitted. “Subtle touches when they walked through the shop. Comments about how most men in his position would move. That quiet power thing. But Nasir shut it down clean. Told her this is family work. Made sure she knew I’m involved in every decision.”
Lani’s jaw unclenched slightly.
“He said that?”
“Word for word. Even invited her to bring the proposals to the house sometime. Said I’d cook.”
Lani blinked, processing.
Then she nodded slowly.
“Okay. That’s the Nasir I know now. He learned. He’s not that man anymore.”
Kiyah reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Yeah. He’s not that man anymore.”
The moment settled between them…clean, honest, no lingering shadows.
Lani looked around the quiet apartment, then back at Kiyah.
“You know what’s crazy?”
“What?”
“You didn’t have a mom growing up, but you’re so loving and nurturing. And watching you build this… Shaye’s mama with the boys, all of us showing up… it makes me believe in it more. You didn’t just survive. You created something better for your kids.”
Kiyah’s eyes misted for a second. She rubbed her belly again.
“I had to. They deserve it. And so do I.”
CiCi crawled fully into Lani’s lap and rested her little head against her chest like it was the most natural place in the world.
Kiyah watched them, heart full.
Village.
Chosen.
Protected.
Lani glanced back at the phone one more time and smirked.
“Okay but seriously… she is fine as hell.”
Kiyah groaned and snatched a throw pillow, tossing it lightly at her.
“Stop.”
“I’m just saying!”
“Stop.”
Lani laughed, dodging the pillow while keeping CiCi steady.
“If she wasn’t trifling—”
“Lani.”
“Okay, okay! I’m done.”
They settled back into easy conversation. Laughter filled the apartment again…loud, genuine, healing.
Outside, the city kept its pace.
Inside, Kiyah sat with her husband’s baby mother – who’d become her best friend after all their drama – and her baby girl, grateful for the quiet, for the village she had built, for the man who chose her every single day.
Real had weight.
And today, it felt lighter because she didn’t have to carry it alone.
Chapter Eight
The apartment didn’t feel quiet anymore.
It felt lived in. Warm. Full in the way only real comfort could make a space feel…not from noise or chaos, but from presence that didn’t demand anything. The late morning light filtered through half-drawn curtains, casting a soft golden haze over everything. Vanilla candles from earlier still flickered low on the coffee table, their scent mixing with the faint sweetness of Kiyah’s pregnancy body butter and the leftover coffee Nasir had made before leaving.
Kiyah was stretched across the wide sectional. One leg extended long along the cushions, the other bent at the knee. Her oversized tee had ridden up just enough to expose the smooth, glowing skin of her thigh and the gentle curve of her belly. She looked relaxed. Radiant. The kind of beautiful that came from being cared for instead of constantly pouring out.
Lani sat perched beside her, legs tucked under herself, hands working slow, deliberate circles into the tight muscles of Kiyah’s lower back. Her touch was firm but gentle, thumbs pressing in rhythmic waves that coaxed knots to loosen. The cropped white tee she wore had shifted slightly during the massage, and her long wavy hair fell over one shoulder as she leaned in.
“You better not be half-assing it today.” Kiyah muttered, eyes closed, voice lazy and content.
Lani sucked her teeth, a classic sound of mock offense. “Girl, relax. I got you. These hands are blessed.”
“You said that last time and started scrolling Instagram mid-rub like I was a side quest.”
“That was one time.”
“Twice. And you liked three memes while my back was screaming.”
“Okay, but I still finished and you ate good after, so who really won?”
Kiyah snorted softly, the sound turning into a low hum of pleasure as Lani’s thumbs found a particularly tight spot near her hip. Her hand rested protectively over the swell of her belly, fingers tracing idle circles there…the unconscious check-in she did a hundred times a day.
Lani felt the shift in Kiyah’s breathing and smiled to herself. Her hands slowed, then pressed deeper, working the oil she’d warmed between her palms into Kiyah’s skin with smooth, sensual strokes.
Not rushed. Not clinical. Just attentive…the kind of touch that said I see how much you carry without needing words.
Kiyah inhaled sharply, then let it out in a slow, surrendering sigh. Her body melted further into the cushions.
“…okay, wait. Yeah. Right there.”
Lani’s smirk was immediate and wicked. “Yeah? That’s what I thought.”
She kept the rhythm steady, fingers gliding along the curve of Kiyah’s lower back, thumbs fanning outward in wide arcs that eased the constant weight of pregnancy.
The air between them felt thick with easy intimacy — the kind built from two years of friendship, shared tears, laughter, and the quiet understanding that some bonds didn’t need explaining.
CiCi had gone down for her nap about twenty minutes earlier, tucked into her crib with her favorite stuffed elephant and the white noise machine humming softly in the background.
Lani tote bag sat abandoned by the door, phone lost somewhere under a throw pillow. She had the day off and her mom offered to pick up Nay from after school and would grab the Malia and MJ from daycare as well. For the first time in what felt like forever, Lani wasn’t on anyone’s clock.
She was just… here. Present. Needed in the softest, most necessary way.
“You staying all day?” Kiyah asked, voice softer now, almost drowsy.
“Yeah.” Lani said simply, not stopping her hands. “I needed a day where I don’t gotta be everything for everybody. No schedules. No ‘Mommy’ every five seconds. Just this.”
Kiyah nodded slowly, eyes still closed. “I feel that in my soul.”
Lani’s hands moved higher, thumbs tracing the line of Kiyah’s spine with careful pressure, then gliding back down in long, sensual strokes that made Kiyah’s shoulders drop and her breath deepen. The touch carried quiet care…warmth spreading through skin, tension unraveling like thread from a spool.
“You carry a lot, Ki.” Lani murmured, voice low. “The kids. This baby. Keeping the home together while Nasir builds empires. You make it look easy, but I see you.”
Kiyah didn’t answer right away. She just breathed…deep, grateful inhales that filled her chest and let something tight inside her loosen. Because she did carry it. All of it. But she wasn’t drowning anymore.
She had help. She had love. She had this — a best friend whose hands knew exactly where the weight lived.
The front door clicked open.
Neither woman moved. They both knew that sound.
Kiyah cracked one eye open, a lazy smile already forming. “What time is it?”
Lani glanced at the clock on the wall without lifting her hands. “A little after one.”
Kiyah groaned softly, content. “He’s home early.”
“Good.” Lani said, pressing a little deeper just to make her point. “He can make himself useful and take over. These hands need a break.”
Nasir stepped into the living room, keys still in hand, black hoodie from the shop still on, the faint scent of shea butter and fresh cuts clinging to him. His presence filled the space instantly. Tall, solid, that quiet command he carried without trying.
He stopped short.
Took in the scene of his pregnant wife laid out like royalty across the couch, glowing and relaxed. Lani beside her, hands working slow circles into Kiyah’s back with easy familiarity.
Nasir shook his head slowly, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Yeah… y’all up to something.”
Lani didn’t even look up, fingers still moving in those hypnotic strokes. “We minding our business. You the one walking in like you own the place.”
“I do own the place.” Nasir said dryly, dropping his keys on the entry table and walking closer. His eyes lingered on Kiyah. The way her tee had ridden up, the peaceful expression on her face, the curve of her belly under her hand. Something soft and possessive flickered in his gaze. “My wife looking real comfortable over there.”
Kiyah smiled without opening her eyes, voice muffled against the cushion. “I am comfortable. Leave us alone. This feels too good to stop.”
Nasir stood over them for a second, arms crossed, watching with that half-amused, half-warmed expression he reserved for moments like this. No jealousy. No weird energy. Just the deep familiarity of a man who had grown into trusting the village around his family.
“Watch your hands.” he said casually, but there was a playful edge underneath.
Lani paused dramatically.
Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she let her palms glide slowly, teasingly, lower along Kiyah’s side, tracing the dip of her waist with exaggerated care.
Nasir raised an eyebrow, voice dropping. “Lani.”
She smirked, innocent as sin. “What? I’m helping her. Doctor’s orders. Pregnancy massage.”
Kiyah’s breath hitched for the briefest second…a soft, involuntary sound that slipped out before she caught it. The room went still.
Lani immediately cracked up, pulling her hands back and sitting upright. “Alright, alright. Let me stop before your man drags me out by my edges.”
Kiyah’s eyes flew open. “Bitch!”
Nasir chuckled low, the sound warm and rich as he stepped closer. “I see how it is.”
Kiyah tried to push herself up, but Lani gently pressed her shoulder back down. “Relax, mama. You were just enjoying it. Don’t act brand new now.”
“I was not—”
“You absolutely were.” Lani teased, grinning wide.
Nasir leaned down, one hand braced on the back of the couch. He cupped Kiyah’s face gently and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. It wasn’t rushed. Soft at first, then deepening just enough to remind her. It was warm, grounding, full of that steady love that had carried them through every season. Kiyah melted into it automatically, her free hand coming up to rest against his chest.
Lani watched with an easy smile, no awkwardness, no intrusion. Just quiet appreciation for the way they fit.
“Stop looking at us like that.” Kiyah muttered against Nasir’s mouth when they finally parted, cheeks warm.
Nasir pulled back just enough to glance at Lani, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah. Mind your business, Lani.”
Lani gasped dramatically, one hand flying to her chest. “I’m literally right here! Existing! Supporting! Massaging!”
Nasir reached over and gently flicked her forehead with two fingers. “Exactly.”
She flopped backward onto the couch like she’d been mortally wounded, arm thrown over her eyes. “Oh my God. Domestic abuse by my baby daddy . I sure know how to pick ’em. I’m calling Naylani right now to tell her.”
Kiyah dissolved into laughter, the sound bright and unrestrained, her hand still resting on her belly. “You are so extra. Always have been.”
“Y’all ganging up on me now.” Lani complained from under her arm, voice muffled but full of glee.
“Pregnant privilege and husband privilege. Unfair.”
Nasir sat down on the edge of the couch, smoothly pulling Kiyah’s legs across his lap. His hands replaced Lani’s without missing a beat… larger, firmer, more knowing. He worked her calves and thighs with intentional pressure, thumbs digging into the arches of her feet in that way that always made her sigh.
Kiyah’s eyes fluttered closed again, a deeper, more contented exhale leaving her. “See… now this is different. These hands know what they’re doing.”
Lani peeked out from under her arm, mock-offended. “Oh, so my massage wasn’t good enough?”
“It was cute.” Kiyah said sweetly, batting her lashes.
Lani sat up straight. “Cute?!”
Nasir smirked, not looking up from his work. “She said what she said.”
The room filled with easy laughter again — the kind that flowed without effort, wrapping around them like the afternoon light. It bounced off the walls, light and healing, carrying the warmth of inside jokes, forgiven mistakes, and the kind of bonds that survived everything.
They talked as the minutes stretched. Nasir listened more than he spoke, his hands never stopping their slow, sensual work on Kiyah’s legs and feet. His firm strokes that eased swelling, gentle kneads that melted tension. Every so often his thumb would trace a lazy circle on her ankle, intimate and unhurried.
Kiyah watched him through half-lidded eyes, love plain on her face.
Lani stretched out across the other end of the sectional, completely at home, one arm tucked behind her head. She felt the peace settle in her own chest. No rush, no performance, just being part of something solid.
“You happy?” Kiyah asked suddenly, turning her head toward Lani, voice soft but direct.
Lani blinked, caught off guard for a second. She thought about it — the way her kids were thriving, the way she was starting to feel like herself again instead of just “Mom.”
“Yeah.” she said, and it felt true. “Like… really happy. For the first time in a long minute.”
Nasir glanced at her briefly, a small nod of acknowledgment. No questions. No prying. Just quiet respect.
Kiyah smiled, reaching over to squeeze Lani’s hand. “Good. You deserve it.”
Because there was no competition here anymore. No old shadows. Just shared life — messy, chosen, beautiful.
A pregnant wife getting spoiled by her husband while his ex lounged near them. Laughter mixing with soft sighs and easy banter.
Nasir pulled Kiyah closer into his side eventually, one arm around her shoulders, his other hand still resting protectively on her thigh.
Lani stayed sprawled on her end, scrolling lazily on her rescued phone but mostly just existing in the warmth.
For this stolen afternoon, everything felt exactly how it was supposed to.
Balanced.
Cherished.
Home.
Chapter Nine
The penthouse had settled into that quiet hour that only came when the twins were down and CiCi was halfway there. Vanilla candles still glowed low on the coffee table, their scent mixing with the faint trace of shea butter and the warm, clean steam drifting from the master bathroom.
Kiyah had slipped away twenty minutes earlier, murmuring something about needing to soak her back before it started screaming again. Nasir had just nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple, and let her go.
Lani stayed.
She always did when the vibe felt like family instead of schedule.
She carried CiCi down the hallway now, the one year old’s head heavy on her shoulder, thumb in her mouth, stuffed elephant dangling from one chubby fist.
CiCi smelled like baby lotion and the strawberry shampoo Lani had bought her last month.
Lani hummed low under her breath, some old Mary J. Blige, while rocking her gently as she pushed open the girls room door. Kehlani and Naylani shared a room.
“Alright, little mama.” Lani whispered, laying her in the crib. “You gave us a whole day of peace. Don’t ruin it by waking up at 3 a.m. stressing your mama out.”
CiCi’s eyes were already fluttering, but she reached up with both hands like she wanted one more second. Lani leaned in, kissed her forehead, then her nose, then the tiny dimple in her cheek that looked exactly like Nasir’s.
“Love you, pretty girl.” she said softly.
CiCi sighed, already gone.
Lani stood there a moment longer, fingers resting on the crib rail, watching the rise and fall of that small chest. She still couldn’t believe how full her heart got in rooms like this. Not hers, technically. But hers in every way that mattered.
Down the hall, Nasir’s low voice rumbled from the boys room.
Patient, steady, the same tone he used on the shop floor when somebody needed correcting without being embarrassed. She smiled to herself. Some things never changed.
She padded back toward the living room, bare feet quiet on the hardwood. The penthouse felt different at night. Softer. Like the city lights pressing against the floor-to-ceiling windows were just background noise for whatever this was.
Kiyah was out of the bath.
She stood in the arched doorway between the hall and living room in a short silk robe the color of champagne, hair damp and curling at the ends, skin still glowing from the hot water and whatever expensive oil she’d rubbed on that belly. Her eyes found Lani first, then drifted past her to the couch where Nasir sat, legs spread, one arm draped along the back like he owned every inch of the space.
And he did.
They were talking low. Nasir and Lani…about Naylani.
Lani had pulled out her phone, calendar open, thumb scrolling through the weeks like she’d been thinking about this for days.
“She keeps asking,” Lani said, voice soft but certain. “Not in a sad way. Just… honest. ‘When can I stay with Daddy and Kiyah during the week?’ She misses the routine here. The way you two move together. She wants more than the back-and-forth every seven days. I was thinking… maybe we shift it. Three days with me, four with y’all? Or we do Monday through Thursday with me, then Thursday night through Sunday with you. Equal. But more consistent for her.”
Nasir listened the way he always listened. His elbows on his knees, eyes on Lani’s face like nothing else existed. He nodded once, slow.
“I’m in.” he said simply. “Whatever makes her feel steady. She’s nine now. She gets a say. If she wants more time under this roof, she gets it. We make it work.”
Lani exhaled, shoulders dropping like she’d been carrying the conversation for weeks. “Thank you. I didn’t want to just throw it at you without thinking it through first.”
“You don’t throw shit at me, Lani. We talk. Always.”
Kiyah stood there watching them, one hand resting on her belly, the other gripping the doorframe like she needed something solid to hold on to. Her smile was small and private and so full it hurt. This. Right here. The two people she’d once gone to war with now sitting on her couch figuring out how to give their daughter more love, more stability, more of both of them. No ego. No score-keeping. Just parents who had grown the hell up.
Lani looked up first.
Their eyes met.
Something warm and wordless passed between them.
Nasir turned his head, caught the look on Kiyah’s face, and his whole expression softened into that slow, knowing grin that still made her stomach flip even after everything.
“Come here, baby.” he said, voice low and sure.
Kiyah didn’t hesitate.
She crossed the room, robe whispering against her thighs. Nasir reached for her the second she was close enough, big hand sliding around her waist, pulling her down onto his lap like she belonged there. Because she did. Her back settled against his chest, legs draped sideways across his thighs, robe slipping open just enough at the top to show the smooth swell of her belly and the top curve of her breasts.
His mouth found her neck immediately.
Slow, open kisses. Warm. Possessive. Teeth grazing just enough to make her breath catch.
Lani watched.
She didn’t look away.
Her eyes stayed locked on Kiyah’s face as Nasir’s hands moved—slow, deliberate—sliding under the robe to cup the heavy weight of one breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until it tightened. Kiyah’s head fell back against his shoulder with a soft, helpless moan that filled the quiet room like smoke.
Lani’s teeth sank into her bottom lip.
Hard.
The air crackled.
Three sets of eyes, all dark with the same memory. The same want. The same history they had agreed to never walk down again. Not like that. Not unless everybody was sure. And they weren’t.
Not tonight.
Lani stood up slowly, like the movement cost her something.
Nasir’s hands stilled on Kiyah’s body, but he didn’t let her go. Kiyah’s breathing was ragged, eyes half-lidded, but she lifted her head and looked at her—with nothing but love and heat and the kind of understanding that didn’t need words.
Lani gave them both a small, shaky smile.
“I should head out.” she said, voice husky. “Before I forget why we made that rule.”
Kiyah stood on unsteady legs. Nasir let her, but his hand stayed on her hip, thumb stroking slow circles like he was reminding her exactly who she was coming back to.
Kiyah walked Lani to the door.
The hug lasted longer than it should have. Lani’s arms wrapped around her tight, palms sliding down the curve of Kiyah’s back, lingering at the dip just above her ass. Kiyah pressed her face into Lani’s neck, breathing her in.
“Get home safe.” Kiyah whispered against her skin.
“I love you.” Lani said, lips brushing her ear.
“I love you more.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
For half a second the penthouse was quiet again.
Then Nasir was on her.
He spun Kiyah around, backing her against the closed door with that same controlled power that always made her knees weak. His mouth crashed into hers—deep, hungry, claiming. One hand fisted in her damp hair, the other sliding down to grip her thigh, lifting it around his waist so he could grind against her slow and filthy.
“Been thinking about this since I walked in and saw her hands all over you.” he growled against her lips. “Watching you moan for her like that… shit drives me crazy, baby.”
Kiyah whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “Nasir—”
“Nah. Say it.” He tugged the robe open completely, letting it fall to the floor. His palm slid down her belly…gentle…then lower, cupping her pussy. Two thick fingers dragged through her wetness, teasing her clit until her hips jerked. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”
“Yours.” she gasped, head falling back against the door. “It’s yours, baby.”
He sank two fingers inside her without warning, curling them just right. Kiyah cried out, legs trembling.
“That’s right.” he murmured, mouth at her throat, teeth scraping. “Lani can make you wet. Can make you bite your lip and stare like you want to eat her alive. But she can’t make this pussy hum like I do. Can’t make you cream all over my fingers like this. Can’t fuck you deep enough to feel it in your spine.”
He dropped to his knees right there in the entryway…mindful of her belly, always so careful even when he was being nasty and buried his face between her thighs. His tongue replaced his fingers, licking her slow and filthy, sucking her clit like he had all night. Kiyah’s hands flew to his head, hips rocking against his mouth, moaning loud enough that she was grateful the penthouse walls were thick.
“Nasir—fuck—yes—”
He groaned against her, the vibration shooting straight through her. “Taste so fucking good when you’re pregnant. Sweeter. Wetter. All mine.”
He ate her like a man starved until her legs shook and she came hard, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like it was the only name she ever known.
He didn’t give her time to come down.
He stood, spun her around, bent her over the back of the couch—gentle with her belly, one big hand splayed protectively over it—and slid into her in one long, thick stroke. Kiyah’s mouth fell open on a silent scream. He was so deep like this, stretching her just right, hitting that spot that made her lose control.
He fucked her rough but careful…deep, punishing strokes that made her ass bounce, one hand fisted in her hair, the other rubbing slow circles on her clit.
“Tell me again.” he growled, voice wrecked. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours—oh God—yours, Nasir. Only yours.”
“That’s my good girl.” He leaned over her, lips at her ear, hips snapping harder. “Lani can watch all she wants. Can bite her lip and remember how we shared you. But she don’t get this. She don’t get to feel you clench around her like you do me. She don’t get to fuck my baby out of you.”
Kiyah came again, harder this time, walls fluttering around him, soaking his dick. Nasir followed right behind her, burying himself and filling her with a low, guttural groan that vibrated against her back.
They stayed like that for a long moment. Connected, breathing hard, his hand still rubbing soft circles on her belly.
He kissed the back of her neck, soft now. Tender.
“I love you.” he whispered against her skin.
Kiyah smiled, eyes closed, heart so full it felt like it might burst.
“I love you more.” she breathed.
Chapter Ten
Lani closed the door to her apartment behind her and leaned against it for a full ten seconds.
Her body was wired.
The kind of live-wire current that made her thighs press together on instinct and her nipples tighten against the soft fabric of her cropped white tee. She could still feel Kiyah’s skin under her palms from the massage, the way Kiyah had sighed when her thumbs dug in just right.
Could still see Nasir’s big hand sliding under that silk robe, the way Kiyah’s head had fallen back against his shoulder, the low moan that had slipped out before she could catch it.
Lani had walked out of there with her cheeks hot and her panties damp, the kind of turned-on that didn’t fade on the drive home. It sat in her belly like good whiskey…warm, dangerous, and making her a little reckless.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
No little feet. No “Ma!” echoing off the walls. No Naylani’s sketchbook pencil scratching at the kitchen table. Her mama had kept all three kids tonight. Junior, Malia, and Naylani.
“You need a night, baby.” her mama had said. “Go be Lani for once. Not just Mama.”
So here she was. Alone. Lights low. The city humming twenty stories below her floor-to-ceiling windows. She kicked off her heels, padded barefoot across the living room, and poured herself a glass of chilled rosé from the fridge. The first sip hit her tongue sweet and cold, but it did nothing to cool the heat still simmering under her skin.
She changed into something softer. The silky champagne-colored slip she’d bought on a whim last month and never worn because there was never a reason. It skimmed her curves, the hem brushing mid-thigh, thin straps sliding off one shoulder the way she liked. She left her hair down…long, wavy, still carrying the faint scent of Kiyah’s vanilla candles and dabbed a little gloss on her lips even though no one was coming over.
She wasn’t planning on texting him.
Not at first.
She told herself she’d just scroll, finish the wine, maybe run a bath and handle the ache between her legs the way she always did when the tension got this loud. But her phone was already in her hand. Rich’s name sat right there in her messages, the last text from him still unread because she’d been too nervous to open it earlier in the week.
She opened it now.
Just a simple “You good?” from Tuesday after pickup. She’d never replied.
Her thumbs hovered.
The wine made her bold.
She typed before she could overthink it.
Lani: Hey… it’s Lani. From the daycare pickup. Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time. Just got home and the apartment is too quiet for once. Kids are with my mama tonight. Figured I’d stop playing it safe and say hi.
She hit send, heart hammering, and immediately took another sip of wine like it was liquid courage.
Three minutes passed.
Then five.
She was halfway through convincing herself she’d just ruined everything when her phone lit up.
Rich: Not a bad time. Out with the homies. You finally decided to use the number, huh?
She laughed under her breath, cheeks already warming. That was him…dry, direct, no extra fluff. But there was something in the “finally” that made her stomach flip. Like he’d been waiting too.
Lani: Guilty. Been thinking about Tuesday. You had me smiling in the parking lot like a teenager. Didn’t want to wait till next pickup to see if that was just me.
Rich: Nah. Wasn’t just you.
She bit her lip, grinning at the screen like a fool. Another text came through right after.
Rich: You home alone for real?
Lani: For real. First night in months with zero tiny humans demanding snacks or stories. Feels weird. Good weird.
Rich: Bet.
She stared at the screen, thumb hovering. The wine and the leftover heat from Kiyah’s place made her brave.
Lani: Can I call you?
She sent it before she could delete it.
The typing bubbles appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Rich: Yeah. You can.
Her hands shook a little as she tapped his name and hit the call button. It rang once. Twice.
He picked up on the third ring.
“Talk to me.” he said.
God.
His voice was even deeper on the phone. Low, smooth, that slight rasp at the edges like he’d been laughing or smoking or both. It slid down her spine and settled low in her belly. She was suddenly very aware of the thin silk against her skin, the way her nipples had tightened again just from three words.
No man ever made her react this way.
Not even Nasir.
“Hey.” she breathed, trying not to sound as affected as she already was. “Didn’t expect you to actually say yes.”
He chuckled, soft and short. She could hear background noise—low music, clink of glasses, male voices laughing somewhere behind him. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean. You caught me on a good night though. Had a couple drinks with the crew. I’m a little looser than usual.”
She smiled, curling her legs under her on the couch. “Good. Because you’re usually a man of very few words. I was starting to think I’d have to pull teeth to get more than a nod and a you look good.”
Another low laugh. “You ain’t wrong. I don’t run my mouth for sport. But tonight? I got time.”
Lani settled deeper into the cushions, one hand resting on her thigh where the slip had ridden up. “Tell me about your night then. What kind of bar you at? You look like the type who only goes somewhere with good whiskey and no bullshit.”
She heard him take a sip, ice clinking against glass. “You right. Little spot in Midtown. Dark, expensive, homies been coming here since before we had real money. Just left a meeting that ran long, needed to unwind. You sound like you unwinding too.”
“I am.” she said, voice softer. “Wine. Silk slip. Lights low. Trying not to think too hard about why I finally texted you tonight.”
There was a pause. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped an octave. “Why did you text me tonight, Lani?”
She blushed so hard her ears burned. Thank God he couldn’t see her.
“Because I’ve been thinking about you since Tuesday.” she admitted. “And after tonight… I left my best friend’s house feeling a certain kind of way. Needed to hear a voice that wasn’t going to make me overthink everything.”
He hummed, the sound vibrating through the phone like it was made for her ears only. “What kind of way?”
Bold. She was feeling bold.
“The kind where I watched my best friend get kissed like she belonged to somebody. The kind where my hands were on her back earlier and I felt… things. I’m wired, Rich. And I’m tired of waiting for you to make the next move.”
Silence on his end for a second. Then that deep voice again, firmer now. “You always this honest when you’ve had a little wine?”
“Only when the man on the other end of the phone has a voice like yours.”
He laughed again, but it was darker this time. “Careful, Lani. You don’t know what you asking for yet.”
“I think I do.” she whispered. “I think that’s why I texted you.”
Another sip. Ice clinking. “Aight. Since we doing honest… I been thinking about you too. That little cream sweater you had on? The way you looked at me when you asked for my number? Yeah. I noticed. But I told you, I ain’t in the dating lane right now. Got my god daughter, got the business, got shit I’m still cleaning up from my old life. I don’t play games and I don’t half-step.”
“I’m not asking you to half-step.” she said quickly. “I’m just… talking. To you. Because your voice is doing something to me right now and I don’t want it to stop.”
He made that low hum again. “My voice, huh?”
“Deep as hell. Firm. You say something once and I swear my body just… listens. It’s dangerous.”
He chuckled, but there was heat in it. “Dangerous how?”
She shifted on the couch, thighs pressing together. “Like if you told me to take this slip off right now, I probably would.”
The pause was longer this time.
When he spoke, his voice had that dominant edge she was already addicted to. “Don’t play with me, Lani. You alone?”
“Completely.”
“Good. Keep talking then. Tell me what you got on.”
She bit her lip, face flaming. “Champagne silk slip. Thin. Short. Straps keep sliding off my shoulder. Nothing underneath.”
“Shit.” he muttered, almost under his breath. She heard him shift wherever he was, like he was adjusting himself. “You really out here testing me tonight.”
“You started it.” she teased, but her voice was breathy. “With that ‘talk to me’ when you picked up.”
He laughed softly. “Fair. Aight, since you being brave… tell me about this best friend. The one who got you wired. She the reason you sounding like you need somebody to handle you right now?”
Lani’s breath caught. He was perceptive. Too perceptive.
“Yeah.” she said honestly. “Her and her husband. Long story. It’s… complicated. But tonight I was giving her a massage and he walked in and… things got charged. I left before it went further, but my body didn’t get the memo.”
Rich was quiet for a second. “You into that? Watching? Sharing?”
She swallowed. “Not really. It’s just been a minute since I’ve had someone. So, I guess I’m just yearning for that touch. But right now? I just know your voice is the only thing that’s making the ache feel good instead of frustrating.”
He exhaled slow. “Lani.”
The way he said her name—like a warning and a promise at the same time—made her shiver.
“Yeah?”
“You blushing right now?”
She laughed, embarrassed. “How you know?”
“I can hear it in your voice. That little breathy laugh you do when you nervous but turned on. Cute as hell.”
She covered her face with her free hand even though he couldn’t see. “Stop reading me like this. We’ve only had one real conversation in person.”
“Two now.” he corrected, firm. “And I pay attention. Always have. Especially to pretty women who look at me like they want me to tell them what to do next.”
Her stomach flipped. “You… you do have that effect.”
“Yeah? What effect is that?”
She licked her lips. “The one where you say something once and I’m ready to do it. No questions. Your voice is deep and steady and it just… pulls. Like I’d let you lead me anywhere tonight.”
He let out a low sound, almost a groan. “You playing with fire, Lani. I’m sitting here with my third drink, trying to be a gentleman, and you telling me you’d let me lead.”
“I’m not playing.” she whispered. “I’m tired of playing it safe. I did that for years. With my daughter’s father. Then with my twins dad. With everything. Tonight I want to feel something real.”
Rich was quiet long enough that she wondered if she’d said too much. Then he spoke, voice lower, slower, that dominant calm wrapping around every word.
“Aight. Real it is. Tell me what you want right now. No filter.”
She closed her eyes, heart racing. “I want to hear you tell me what to do. Just once. I want to feel that pull.”
Another pause. She could hear the bar noise fading a little, like he’d stepped outside or into a quieter corner.
“Take the strap off your shoulder.” he said. Quiet. Commanding. No room for argument. “The one that keeps sliding. Do it slow.”
Her breath hitched. She did it immediately, the silk whispering down her arm, baring one breast to the cool air of the apartment.
“Done.” she breathed.
“Good girl.”
The praise hit her like a shot of something stronger than wine. She whimpered softly, thighs pressing together harder.
Rich chuckled, dark and satisfied. “Yeah… I hear you. You like that, don’t you? Being told what to do by a man who means it.”
“I do.” she admitted, voice shaky. “Especially when it’s you.”
“Touch your thigh.” he continued, calm as ever. “Slow. Up and down. Don’t go higher yet. Just feel how soft you are for me.”
She obeyed, fingertips tracing lazy lines over her skin, the silk bunched at her hips now. “Rich…”
“Say it again.”
“Rich.” she moaned softly.
“Fuck.” he muttered. “You sound pretty when you say my name like that. Keep touching. Tell me how it feels.”
“Soft.” she whispered. “Warm. I’m so wet already and you’ve barely said anything.”
He groaned low. “That’s dangerous, Lani. You alone in that apartment sounding like you need to be fucked properly and I’m thirty minutes away trying to be responsible.”
She smiled even as her fingers kept moving. “You don’t have to be responsible tonight.”
He laughed, but it was rough. “I do. For now. But Tuesday? When I see you at pickup? We not doing the polite nod and walk away shit. You gonna look at me and remember what my voice sounds like when I tell you what to do.”
“I know I will.” she said, breathless. “I’m gonna be blushing in the parking lot again.”
“Good. I like when you blush for me.”
They talked like that for over an hour…easy in places, filthy in others. He told her about Zoe’s latest therapy win, how the little girl had said three new words this week and looked at him like he hung the moon. His relationship with Zoe’s mother, who was his best friend since elementary school. He didn’t have any biological children but she was his in every way. She told him about Naylani asking if he was “nice” and how that question had hit her in the chest. He asked about her work, her life before the twins, why she’d gotten so careful. She asked about the tattoos she could see peeking from his collar…the ones that told stories he wasn’t ready to share yet.
He stayed guarded in the important places, but the drinks had loosened the edges. He laughed more. Teased her when she rambled. Gave her another quiet command, “Pinch your nipple for me, just once” and listened to the way she gasped like it was his new favorite sound.
By the time the call wound down, Lani was flushed, thighs sticky, slip bunched around her waist, and grinning like a woman who’d just discovered something powerful.
“Tuesday.” he said, voice back to that steady, dominant calm. “You see me at pickup, you don’t play shy. You look at me. You smile like you know what my voice sounds like in your ear. Then we see what happens next.”
“Yes.” she whispered, already obedient.
“Good. Get some rest, Lani. Drink some water. And text me when you wake up tomorrow so I know you made it through the night without overthinking this.”
She laughed softly. “Bossy.”
“You like it.”
“I do.”
“Night, beautiful.”
“Night, Rich.”
She hung up and stared at the ceiling, heart still racing, body humming.
The apartment was still quiet.
But for the first time in a long time, the quiet felt full.
She pulled the slip back up, finished the last of her wine, and crawled into bed with her phone on the charger.
Tuesday suddenly felt like the start of something she wasn’t going to run from.
And Rich’s voice?
It was already playing on repeat in her head.
Chapter Eleven
Lani woke up at 6:47 a.m. with her silk slip twisted around her waist, one strap still hanging off her shoulder exactly the way Rich had told her to slide it down last night. The memory hit her so hard she actually groaned out loud into her pillow. Her phone was face-down on the nightstand, screen dark, but she could feel it judging her. Or maybe that was just her own brain.
“Girl, you are thirty-two years old with three kids and you let a man you barely know talk you through taking your clothes off over the phone.” she muttered to the ceiling. “And you liked it. A lot.”
She rolled over and stared at the ceiling fan spinning lazy circles. Her thighs still felt sensitive from how she’d squeezed them together every time Rich’s voice dropped an octave and said “good girl.” She pressed her face into the pillow again and screamed into it…short, muffled, embarrassed, and delighted.
Her mama had kept the kids overnight, so the apartment was quiet enough to hear her own heartbeat doing the cha-cha. No Junior yelling “NO!” No Malia demanding to know why the sky was blue at 7 a.m. No Naylani side-eyeing her like a tiny therapist.
Just Lani. Horny. Nervous. And stupidly excited.
She dragged herself to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and stared at her reflection. The woman looking back had that post-phone-sex glow even though no actual sex had occurred. Cheeks warm. Lips a little swollen from biting them. Eyes bright like she’d been up all night doing something worth repeating.
“Tuesday pickup.” she told her reflection, pointing at herself like she was giving a TED Talk. “You are going to be chill. Classy. A little flirty but not desperate. Do not blush when he looks at you. Do not think about him saying ‘pinch your nipple for me.’ Do not-“
She stopped, because she was already thinking about it.
“Jesus Christ, Lani. Get it together.”
She picked an outfit that said “I woke up like this… but also I spent twenty minutes making sure my ass looks insane in these jeans.” High-waisted dark denim that hugged her hips and made her waist look snatched. A soft butter-yellow off-the-shoulder sweater that kept sliding down one shoulder on purpose. Gold hoops. Fresh gloss. Hair in loose waves because Rich had mentioned liking it down on the call. She spritzed a little vanilla-musk perfume on her wrists and between her breasts…subtle, but enough.
Naylani’s words from last week kept echoing…Is he nice?
Lani whispered to the mirror, “He sounds nice. He also sounds like he could ruin my life in the best way. We’ll see.”
Her phone buzzed. Kiyah.
Kiyah: Bitch it’s Tuesday. You better be wearing something cute. Send pics before you leave for work. I need to live vicariously through your hot girl era while I’m over here looking like a whole pregnant fertility goddess.
Lani laughed and sent a mirror selfie.
Kiyah: YASSSSS. That sweater is doing the Lord’s work on your titties. Rich is gonna need a minute when he sees you. Text me the second pickup is over. I want the play-by-play. Nasir already left for the shop so I’m bored and nosy.
Lani: You are a messsss.
Kiyah: And you love me. Go get your man, mama. Or at least get his tongue in your mouth. I’m invested.
Lani shook her head, grinning, and headed out.
She couldn’t wait to finish up at work and she hadn’t even arrived there yet.
•••
Across town, Nasir was already in the Brooklyn shop trying not to lose his mind.
Iyana had texted at 7:12 a.m. asking if they could do a “quick meeting over breakfast” before she flew out to Atlanta for another client. He’d said yes because business. He was regretting it by 8:45.
She showed up in a cream tailored dress that looked painted on, hair down in those loose curls that brushed her shoulders, and a smile that said she remembered every brush of her body against his during the shop tours.
“Nasir.” she greeted with a smile, sliding into the seat across from him at the little café two blocks from the shop. “You look good in the morning light.”
He kept his face neutral, stirring his black coffee. “Morning, Iyana. Let’s talk numbers.”
She laughed softly, crossing her legs so the slit in her dress showed smooth brown thigh. “Always straight to business. I like that about you.”
They went over projections for the Miami location. She was sharp…pointed out two line items he hadn’t caught, suggested a better vendor for the custom leather chairs. But every compliment was laced.
“You really are building something generational.” she said, leaning in so her gold chain dipped between her breasts. “Most men would’ve stopped at two shops. You? You’re thinking legacy. It’s… attractive.”
Nasir leaned back, arms folded. “Appreciate it. But like I said last time…this is family work. My WIFE and I are doing it.”
Iyana’s smile didn’t falter, but something sharpened behind her eyes. “Of course. I can’t wait to meet her. I’m sure she’s lovely.” She paused, tapping her manicured nail on the table. “But still… a man like you deserves to be celebrated for what he’s built. Not just the family man version. The visionary. The one who came from one chair in Harlem.”
She reached across the table and brushed a nonexistent piece of lint off his shoulder. Her fingers lingered.
Nasir caught her wrist gently but firmly, moving her hand back to her side of the table.
“Iyana.” he said, voice low and even, “I’m not most men. I don’t entertain bullshit. My wife is pregnant with our fourth. My home is solid. This-” he gestured between them “-stays professional or it doesn’t stay at all. This is my final warning.”
She held his gaze for a long second, then smiled like she’d just been challenged instead of shut down.
“Message received.” she said smoothly.
Nasir stood. “I gotta get back to the shop. Send the updated deck to Dame. We’ll review as a team.”
He left her sitting there looking like a woman who wasn’t used to hearing no… and who liked the taste of it a little too much.
•••
Back at the Grant penthouse, Kiyah was living her best chaotic-pregnant-mom life.
CiCi was on her hip, chewing on a teething ring. The twins were “helping” Shaye fold laundry by throwing socks across the living room like confetti.
“Carter, if you throw one more sock I’m selling you to the circus.” Shaye called, laughing.
Carter looked up with that serious little face. “The circus has elephants. I like elephants.”
Cairo slid in on socked feet. “I wanna be the lion tamer!”
Kiyah rubbed her belly. “Y’all are gonna be the reason Mommy has gray hair at twenty-nine.”
Shaye flopped on the couch beside her. “Speaking of gray hair. Has Lani texted you yet? Because if she hasn’t made a move on that fine-ass daycare daddy by now, I’m disowning her.”
Kiyah grinned. “She sent a selfie. She’s wearing that yellow sweater that makes her boobs sit up and say good morning. Rich is gonna need a minute.”
Shaye cackled. “I love this for her. After Malcolm’s dusty ass? She deserves a man who’ll make her feel seen.”
CiCi clapped like she agreed.
Kiyah’s phone buzzed. A text from Nasir.
Nasir: Iyana tried it again at breakfast. Shut it down. My final warning to her before I cancel everything. Heading back to shop. Love you. Tell the kids I’ll be home early enough to do bath time.
Kiyah’s heart did that soft little flip it still did every time he chose her out loud.
Kiyah: My mannnnnn. Come home and let me show you how much I appreciate you shutting it down 😏.
Nasir: Keep talking like that and I’m leaving the shop right now.
She sent back a string of fire emojis and heart eyes.
Shaye raised an eyebrow. “Y’all still nasty even with baby number four cooking?”
“Especially with baby number four cooking.” Kiyah said, rubbing her belly. “Pregnancy hormones are undefeated.”
•••
Lani pulled up to Bright Minds at 5:20 p.m., heart doing the Harlem shake.
She spotted Rich before he even stepped out of his car.
Black button-down shirt rolled to the elbows, showing the full sleeve of tattoos that disappeared under the fabric. Dark jeans. Cuban link shining against his neck. The diamond watch catching the afternoon sun. Full beard trimmed perfect.
He had Zoe on his hip, the little girl chattering away about something with her whole chest. When he saw Lani, that almost-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Lani’s stomach flipped so hard she had to remind herself to breathe.
Junior spotted Zoe first and took off like a rocket.
Malia followed at her own regal pace, backpack on straight.
Rich set Zoe down. The kids formed their tiny chaotic circle immediately. Junior showing off a toy car, Malia examining Zoe’s new hair clips with serious approval.
Lani walked over, trying to play it cool and failing spectacularly.
“Hey.” she said, voice softer than she meant.
Rich looked her up and down once-slow, appreciative, but not disrespectful. “Damn, Lani.”
She felt the blush hit her cheeks instantly. “What?”
“You heard me.” His voice was exactly the same deep, steady tone from the phone. It did illegal things to her body. “That sweater is dangerous.”
She laughed, tucking hair behind her ear. “You told me not to play shy today.”
“I did.” He stepped a little closer, voice dropping. “You been thinking about last night?”
“Every second since I hung up.” she admitted, looking up at him. “You got a voice that should come with a warning label.”
He chuckled, low and warm. “You got a way of making a man forget he’s trying to be responsible.”
Zoe tugged Rich’s pant leg. “Richie, Junior said his car is faster than mine.”
Junior puffed his chest. “It is!”
Rich crouched down to their level without missing a beat.
He started tickling both of them.
The kids dissolved into giggles.
Lani watched him-calm, patient, that same steady energy that had made Junior walk into daycare the first time they met. Her chest felt too full.
When he stood back up, he was closer. Their arms brushed.
“You free after this?” he asked quietly.
Lani’s heart slammed. “I can be.”
“Good.” He nodded toward the ice cream spot across the street. “Let me buy you a cone. Talk without these tiny humans interrupting every five seconds.”
She smiled, big and real. “I’d like that.”
They walked the kids over together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Rich’s hand brushed the small of her back once…light, protective, sending heat straight down her spine.
At the ice cream shop, the kids got their cones and immediately created a sticky disaster zone at the outdoor table. Rich and Lani sat on the bench next to them, close enough that their thighs touched.
“So,” he said, licking his own scoop of butter pecan like it was a casual Tuesday activity, “you gonna tell me how last night ended after we hung up?”
Lani nearly choked on her strawberry cheesecake swirl. “You really just ask shit like that, huh?”
“I do.” He looked at her, eyes dark and direct. “I also remember you sounding real pretty when you said my name all breathless. Been thinking about that sound since I woke up.”
She felt her face burn. “Rich.”
“There it is.” he murmured, satisfied. “That same sound.”
She bumped his shoulder with hers, laughing. “You’re trouble.”
“You like trouble.”
“I might.”
They talked with ease. Keeping their eyes on the messy toddlers while he told her a funny story about one of his barbershop homies trying to flirt with a client’s aunt and getting read for filth by the whole shop. Lani laughed so hard she had to wipe tears.
Then the messiness slipped in.
“I gotta be honest with you.” Rich said, voice dropping serious. “I don’t do casual. I don’t do games. My last situation… it ended ugly. Took me a minute to get my head right. If we doing this, I need to know you’re not just looking for something to fill time.”
Lani turned to face him fully. “I’m not. I got three kids, Rich. A co-parenting situation that’s peaceful now but wasn’t always. I spent years making myself smaller so nobody would leave. I’m done with that. I like how I feel when I’m talking to you. Seen. Safe. And… yeah, turned on as hell. But I’m not playing either.”
He studied her for a long second.
Then he leaned in slow, giving her every chance to pull back.
His lips brushed hers…soft at first, then deeper, tasting like butter pecan and promise. One big tattooed hand cupped the side of her neck, thumb stroking her jaw. Lani melted into it, hand fisting the front of his shirt.
When they pulled apart, both breathing a little harder, he rested his forehead against hers.
“Tuesday just got a lot more interesting.” he murmured.
She laughed softly against his mouth. “You have no idea.”
Junior chose that exact moment to yell, “EWW!”
The kids erupted in giggles.
Rich pulled back, grinning that rare full smile that made Lani’s stomach flip. “Little man got jokes.”
Lani covered her face, laughing. “I’m never living this down.”
•••
Later that evening, after the kids were asleep, Lani FaceTimed Kiyah.
Kiyah answered on the first ring, propped up in bed with CiCi asleep on her chest and a bowl of ice cream in her lap.
“SPILL!” Kiyah demanded the second the call connected. “Did he kiss you? Did he grab your ass? Did he sound as good in person as he did on the phone? I need the tea, Lani, I’m pregnant and bored.”
Lani flopped back on her couch, cheeks hurting from smiling. “He kissed me. At the ice cream shop. With the kids watching and gagging like it was the nastiest thing they’d ever seen.”
Kiyah screamed…quietly, so she wouldn’t wake CiCi. “YESSSSS! Was it good? Tongue? Hand on the neck? Give me the visuals, best friend.”
Lani described every second. Rich’s hand on her lower back, the way he tasted, how he’d looked at her like he was already imagining round two somewhere private.
Kiyah fanned herself. “I’m living. Nasir shut Iyana down again today, by the way. She tried the whole ‘you deserve to be celebrated’ line at breakfast. He moved her hand and reminded her my name is on every decision. Then came home and reminded me why I married him in the bedroom. Pregnancy sex is undefeated.”
They laughed for twenty minutes…messy, loud, unfiltered. Kiyah roasting Lani for blushing in public. Lani teasing Kiyah about still being nasty while carrying baby number four.
“You deserve this.” Kiyah said softly when the laughter died down. “After everything with Nasir… after Malcolm… you deserve a man who looks at you like that.”
Lani’s eyes got misty. “I think he might be one of the good ones, Ki.”
“Then get to know him. Have fun…bring him around eventually. Let Naylani give him the official ‘is he nice’ test. We’ll do a cookout or something. Village style.”
Lani smiled. “I’d like that.”
They talked until Kiyah started yawning and CiCi stirred.
“Love you, girly pop!” Kiyah said.
“Love you more.”
Lani hung up and stared at her phone.
A text came through.
Rich: Kids down?
Lani: Finally.
Lani: I’m still thinking about that kiss.
Rich: Good. Because I am too. This Friday, I’m taking you to dinner.
Lani: Yes.
Rich: And Lani?
Lani: Yeah?
Rich: Wear something like you did today. I got plans for that shoulder.
She bit her lip, grinning at the screen like a teenager.
Chapter Twelve
Lani stood in the middle of her quiet apartment at 6:15 p.m. and exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for three years.
The twins were gone. Malcolm had flown in from Orlando that morning, scooped Malia and Junior up with that same awkward half-hug he always gave when he was trying to prove he was a good dad on paper. He’d texted her a quick “Got them. They good” at noon and that was it. No drama. No extra conversation. Just the weekend she’d been quietly praying for.
Naylani was with her dad. Nasir had picked her up after school yesterday for his scheduled custody time, and Kiyah had sent a bunch of selfies.
Nay curled up on the couch with CiCi, the twins (Carter and Cairo) trying to teach her some ridiculous dance.
The caption had been simple: Village weekend activated. Go be Lani. We got her.
For the first time in longer than she could remember, Lani had absolutely nothing and no one to take care of until Monday morning.
The whole weekend belonged to her.
She looked at herself in the full-length mirror and felt the slow, warm roll of anticipation low in her belly.
The black halter dress was dangerous on purpose. It plunged deep between her breasts, the soft fabric clinging to every curve like it had been poured on. The back was completely open, dipping low enough that she’d had to skip a bra entirely. A thin diamond choker sparkled at her throat, matching the stack of bracelets on her wrist.
Her hair fell in loose, glossy waves down her back. Makeup was soft but bold – smoky eyes, glossy lips, the kind of glow that came from good skin and better nerves.
She didn’t have to try tonight.
She simply was.
And she knew Rich was going to feel every inch of it.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Rich: Outside.
No extra words. Just that calm, dominant certainty that made her thighs press together on instinct.
She grabbed her small clutch, slipped on strappy heels, and headed down.
He was leaning against a sleek black SUV when she stepped out of the building, arms folded, watching her walk toward him like he had all night to do it. Black button-down rolled to the elbows, dark slacks, Cuban link resting against the open collar, tattoos peeking at his neck and forearms. The diamond watch caught the streetlight. He looked like money and control wrapped in one quiet package.
Just how she liked a man.
Quiet but dangerous.
When she got close enough, he straightened, eyes dragging over her slow…from the choker at her throat, down the deep V of the dress, to the way the fabric hugged her hips.
“Damn, Lani.” he said, voice low and even. “You trying to kill me before we even eat?”
She smiled, feeling the heat crawl up her neck. “You told me to wear something like the yellow sweater. I took it up a notch.”
He stepped into her space, one big hand settling at the small of her bare back…gentle, but possessive.
The touch sent electricity straight down her spine.
“You succeeded.” he murmured against her ear. “Get in the truck.”
She obeyed without thinking. The command in his voice wrapped around her like the silk of that slip she’d worn on the phone.
She slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against the backs of her thighs. Rich closed the door, walked around, and got in. The scent of him filled the space.
He started the engine but didn’t pull off right away. Instead he reached over, thumb brushing her jaw, tilting her face toward him.
“You nervous?” he asked.
“A little.” she admitted. “It’s been… a minute since I did this.”
His eyes darkened. “Good. Means you feel it too.”
He leaned in and kissed her once. Slow, deliberate, the kind of kiss that promised he was only getting started. When he pulled back, his thumb dragged across her bottom lip, wiping the gloss she’d just applied.
“Let’s go eat.” he said. “Before I change my mind and take you straight home.”
The restaurant was intimate, upscale, tucked in a corner of the city with floor-to-ceiling windows and soft neon lighting that painted everything in purples and blues.
Their table was in the back, semi-private, candlelight flickering between them. Rich pulled her chair out, then sat across from her, but he didn’t put space between them. His leg brushed hers under the table the second they were seated…steady, intentional.
He ordered for them without asking. A bottle of red, the short rib for him, the seared scallops for her. When the waiter left, Rich leaned back, eyes locked on her like she was the only thing in the room.
“Tell me about your weekend.” he said. Firm. Direct. No small talk.
Lani exhaled a soft laugh. “The kids are gone. All of them. Twins with their dad. Nay with her dad and his wife. I have zero responsibilities until Monday.”
Rich’s mouth curved – that rare, slow smile. “Good. Means I don’t have to share you tonight.”
The words landed low in her stomach. She shifted in her seat, already wet just from the way he was looking at her.
He noticed. Of course he did.
“You good?” he asked, voice dropping.
“I’m… very aware of you right now.” she said honestly.
He reached across the table, fingers tracing the diamond choker at her throat, then sliding down to rest possessively on her collarbone. Gentle pressure. Possessive claim.
“You’re wearing that dress like you want me to spend the whole night thinking about taking it off you.” he said quietly. “And I am.”
Lani’s breath caught. She’d only ever been with two men in her entire life – Nasir, then Malcolm. Casual dates in between had never gotten this far because she’d been too loyal, too busy protecting herself, too busy being a mom, too busy making herself smaller. No one had ever made her feel like this. Like every word out of his mouth was pulling an invisible string attached directly to her core.
He sat back, but his hand stayed on her knee under the table now, thumb stroking slow circles on the inside of her thigh. Gentle. Possessive. Like he already owned the right to touch her.
“Tell me something real.” he said. “Why me? Why’d you decide to stop playing it safe when you saw me?”
She sipped her wine, trying to steady herself. “Because you make me feel seen without me having to perform. You’re calm. You’re sure. And your voice… God, Rich. The way you talk to me like you already know what I need. No man has ever done that to me before. Not even the ones I was with.”
He studied her, eyes dark. “How many?”
“Two.” she said, no shame. “Nasir – Naylani’s dad. Then Malcolm – the twins’ dad. That’s it. I’ve tried to date, but nothing stuck. Nothing made me feel… this.”
He nodded once, like he was filing the information away. Then he leaned in, voice low and steady.
“I like that. Means you don’t give this energy to just anybody. I don’t either.”
The food came. They ate slowly. Rich told her the basics. He was guarded, but open enough. He’d grown up rough in Brooklyn, ran the streets young, did time when he was twenty-one for something he said he’d never do again. Got out, got his head right, started a security and logistics company that moved high-end product for private clients.
No details. Just enough. Zoe’s mom was his best friend since they were kids; he’d stepped up when her baby daddy dipped. Zoe was his in every way that mattered.
“Like I told you before. I don’t do halfway. I won’t lie to you. I’m intense.” he said, cutting into his short rib. “I protect what’s mine. I lead. I don’t play games. You understand what I’m saying?”
Lani nodded, hanging on every word. “I do.”
He squeezed her thigh under the table, higher this time, fingers brushing the hem of her dress. “Good girl.”
The praise hit her exactly like it had on the phone. She pressed her thighs together around his hand, a soft sound escaping before she could stop it.
Rich’s eyes flashed. “You keep making that sound and we’re not finishing dinner.”
She bit her lip, smiling. “You’re the one touching me like you already own me.”
“Because I’m starting to want to.” His voice was calm, but the grip on her thigh tightened – still gentle, still possessive. “You walk around with all that natural sex appeal and you don’t even know it, do you? You don’t have to try, Lani. You just are. That dress. That walk. The way you look at me like you’re already wet just from me talking to you. It’s dangerous.”
She was. So wet she was surprised the dress wasn’t ruined.
They finished dinner, but the tension never eased. Every time he spoke – ordering dessert, asking about her work, telling her a quiet story about Zoe’s first steps – she felt it between her legs. He paid the bill without letting her even glance at it. When they stood, his hand settled at the small of her back again, fingers brushing the bare skin there like he couldn’t stop touching her.
Outside, the night air was cool, but she was burning.
He walked her to the truck, opened her door, then caged her against it for a second, one hand on either side of her head.
“I’m not taking you home yet.” he said. Low. Firm. “I got a suite booked. Nice view. Private. You got the whole weekend free, right?”
Her heart slammed. “Yes.”
“You sure you ready for what I’m about to do to you?”
She looked up at him, eyes glassy with want. “I’ve been ready since the phone call. Since the kiss. Since the first time you told Junior to walk in that door like he belonged there. I want whatever this is, Rich. I want you.”
He kissed her then. Deep, hungry, tongue sliding against hers like he was already fucking her with it. One hand cupped the back of her neck, thumb stroking her pulse point. The other slid down, gripping her ass through the dress, pulling her flush against the hard line of him.
When he pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
“Get in the truck.” he said against her mouth. “And keep those legs open on the ride over. I want to feel how wet you are when we get there.”
She did exactly what he told her.
The drive was quiet, but his hand never left her thigh. Higher now. Fingers teasing under the hem of the dress, brushing the lace of her panties until she was squirming in the seat.
“Rich…” she breathed.
“Shh. I know.” His voice was calm, controlled. “You’ve been waiting a long time to feel like this. I’m not rushing it. But I’m also not stopping.”
The suite was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, low lighting, a massive king bed. The second the door clicked shut behind them, Rich turned her around, backing her against the wall.
He didn’t rip the dress off. He took his time.
Fingers tracing the diamond choker, then sliding the halter straps down her shoulders until the fabric pooled at her waist. Her breasts spilled free. He groaned low, cupping one in his big hand, thumb circling her nipple until she whimpered.
“Perfect.” he murmured. “Natural as hell. Just like the rest of you.”
He dropped to his knees, peeling the dress the rest of the way down, taking her lace panties with it. Then his mouth was on her – slow, deliberate, tongue sliding through her folds like he had all night. Lani’s hands flew to his head, hips rocking against his face as he ate her like a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
“Rich – oh my God -“
He pulled back just enough to look up at her, lips shiny. “You taste even better than I imagined. Been thinking about this since Tuesday.”
He didn’t stop until she came hard, legs shaking, crying out his name.
Then he stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and lifted her like she weighed nothing. He carried her to the bed, laid her down, and stripped slow…letting her watch every inch of tattooed skin, the hard lines of muscle, the thick length of him already leaking for her.
When he climbed over her, he was gentle but commanding.
“Eyes on me.” he said, voice rough. “I want to see your face when I finally give you what you’ve been missing.”
He pushed inside her in one slow, deep stroke.
Lani’s back arched off the bed. He was thick, stretching her in a way that made her eyes water with pleasure. No man had ever filled her like this – it felt like home. This was different. Deeper. Like he was claiming space no one else had ever reached.
Rich groaned, forehead pressed to hers. “Fuck, Lani. So tight. So wet. You feel like you were made for me.”
He moved slow at first…deep, rolling strokes that had her gasping with every thrust. One hand pinned her wrists above her head. The other gripped her hip, holding her exactly where he wanted her.
“Tell me how it feels.” he demanded, voice steady even as sweat beaded on his brow.
“Better than anything.” she moaned. “No one’s ever… Rich, please -“
“Please what?”
“Fuck me harder. I can take it.”
He gave her exactly what she asked for.
The pace changed – harder, deeper, the sound of skin on skin filling the suite. He talked her through it the whole time, low and filthy and confident.
“That’s it. Take it. Pretty ass. Look at you falling apart for me already. You been walking around with all this fire and nobody knew how to light it, huh?”
She came again, harder than the first time, clenching around him so tight he cursed.
He flipped her over, pulled her hips up, and took her from behind – one hand gripped tightly in her hair, the other rubbing her clit in tight circles. Possessive. In control. Gentle enough that she felt worshipped, dominant enough that she felt owned.
When he finally came, it was with her name on his lips, buried deep, hips stuttering as he filled her.
They collapsed together, breathing hard, his arms wrapped around her like he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.
After a long minute, he kissed her shoulder, voice soft but still that same steady command.
“Shower. Then another round. You got me all weekend, Lani. And I’m not done learning every inch of you yet.”
She turned in his arms, heart full in a way she couldn’t explain.
“Trust me. I’m not going anywhere.” she whispered.
Rich smiled – that rare, full smile again – and pressed his forehead to hers.
“Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lani woke up to warmth and wet heat between her thighs.
Not a dream. Real. Slow. Deliberate.
Rich was under the sheets, broad shoulders holding her legs open, his mouth worshiping her like he had all the time in the world.
His tongue moved in lazy, deep strokes – circling her clit, then sliding inside her, then back again, sucking gently like he was savoring every drop of her.
One of his tattooed hands was splayed across her stomach, holding her down when her hips tried to buck. The other gripped her thigh, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.
“Rich…” she moaned, voice still thick with sleep, fingers threading through his short hair.
He hummed against her, the vibration shooting straight through her core. “Morning, beautiful.” he murmured, the words muffled but clear enough. “Couldn’t wait for you to open your eyes. This pussy was calling me.”
He went back to work, firmer now, two thick fingers sliding inside her while his tongue flicked faster.
Lani’s back arched off the bed, a broken cry leaving her lips as the orgasm built fast and hard. She came with his name on her tongue, thighs trembling around his head, body humming.
Rich didn’t stop until she was panting and pushing at his shoulders, oversensitive and glowing.
When he finally crawled up her body, lips shiny, beard glistening, he kissed her deep and slow, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
“Good morning.” he said against her mouth, that deep, steady voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket.
Lani laughed breathlessly, pulling him down so his weight pressed her into the mattress. “Best wake-up call I’ve ever had.”
He smirked, nipping her bottom lip. “Told you I wasn’t done learning you yet.”
Room service arrived ten minutes later – a full spread wheeled in on a linen-covered cart. Fresh fruit, fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, warm croissants, smoked salmon, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and a silver pot of coffee that smelled like heaven. Rich tipped the attendant, closed the door, and set the tray across the bed like they did this every weekend.
Lani sat up against the pillows, sheet pooled at her waist, still naked and glowing. Her body felt loose, satisfied in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling. Every inch of her hummed with appreciation.
Rich fed her a strawberry, thumb brushing her bottom lip after. “Eat. You’re gonna need your strength.”
She took the bite, eyes locked on his. “For what?”
He leaned in, kissed the corner of her mouth. “For later. And for tonight.”
They ate slowly, tangled in sheets and each other. Rich was still guarded with the personal details, but he gave her more than he had the night before – little pieces of himself that felt earned.
He told her about the first time he held Zoe, how that little girl had changed everything for him. How building his security company had saved him from the streets. He didn’t overshare. He never did. But the way he looked at her while he talked made her feel like he was letting her in further than most people ever got.
When the plates were empty, Rich glanced at his watch.
“I gotta handle something real quick.” he said, already sliding out of bed. “Business. Won’t take more than an hour. You stay here, relax, enjoy the view.”
Lani nodded, still floating. “Okay.”
He bent down, cupped her face with both hands, and kissed her like he was sealing a promise. Deep, passionate, tongue sliding against hers until she whimpered into his mouth. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers for a second.
“Be good while I’m gone.” he murmured.
Then he was up, pulling on clothes, and gone.
Lani stretched across the massive bed, body still tingling, and sighed happily.
That was when she noticed the bags.
Three large matte-black designer bags sitting neatly near the entryway, each with thick ribbon handles and discreet logos she recognized instantly. Chanel, Dior, Saint Laurent. Her favorites.
She sat up fast, sheet falling to her waist, and padded over barefoot.
Inside the first bag: a butter-soft leather jacket. Second bag: heels that matched the exact shade she would have picked herself. And the third…
She pulled out the dress and actually squealed.
It was a rich brown knit that plunged deep between the breasts, fitted through the waist, long sleeves, and paired with the most luxurious taupe fur shawl. The exact size. The exact cut. The diamond choker and hoops already tucked inside like he’d thought of everything.
No man had ever done something like this for her. Not Nasir. Not Malcolm. Not anyone.
She held the dress up to her body in the mirror, turning side to side, heart racing. Part of her wondered if she should feel weirded out – it was a lot, fast. But the bigger part of her was just… appreciative. Seen. Spoiled in a way that felt intentional, not flashy.
She was still staring at it when the bathroom door opened.
Rich stepped out, body still damp from the shower, towel low on his hips, water droplets sliding down the tattoos on his chest and abs. He looked at her, then at the dress in her hands, and that slow, satisfied smile tugged at his mouth.
“Yes, those are for you.” he said simply. “Had them delivered while you were sleeping. Figured you might want options.”
Lani was speechless. She opened her mouth, closed it, then managed a soft, “Thank you.”
He crossed the room, still half-wet, and came up behind her. His arms slid around her waist, hands moving possessively over her stomach as he pulled her back against his chest. His lips brushed her ear.
“Wear that one tonight.” he said, voice low and commanding. “With the fur. I’ve got a business dinner. Want you on my arm.”
Lani nodded before she even processed the words. She would’ve agreed to anything this man said right now.
“Yes.” she whispered.
He kissed the side of her neck, gave her ass a gentle but firm squeeze, then stepped back to get dressed.
Black button-down, slacks, the Cuban link back in place. He looked like power and control again.
“Be back soon.” he said at the door. “Don’t take that sheet off unless it’s for me.”
Then he was gone.
The second the door clicked shut, Lani grabbed her phone and FaceTimed Kiyah.
Kiyah answered on the second ring, propped up in bed with CiCi on her lap and a half-eaten bowl of fruit beside her. Her face lit up the second she saw Lani’s glowing, post-orgasm, post-gift face.
“BITCH!” Kiyah screamed-whispered so she wouldn’t wake the baby. “You look like you got fucked and I mean thoroughlyyyy! Spill right now!”
Lani squealed, holding up the dress to the camera. “Look what he did! While I was sleeping! All my favorites, Ki. Exact size. This dress – look at it!”
Kiyah’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God, that fur shawl is giving mafia wife! He dressed you for the weekend like you’re his. I love this for you!”
They squealed together, laughing loud enough that CiCi clapped like she wanted in on the joke and she was just sleep a few minutes ago.
Lani dropped onto the bed and told her everything – the wake-up oral, the way Rich had eaten her like breakfast was just the appetizer, how satisfied her body still felt.
Kiyah fanned herself dramatically, then fake-fainted sideways on the pillow.
“Girl, I’m passing out. That man is eating it like it’s his last meal? I’m jealous and proud at the same time.”
Then Kiyah sat back up, grinning wickedly. “Well… that pussy is good, so I understand him.”
Lani gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “Kiyah Grant!”
Kiyah cackled, unapologetic. “What? It’s facts! I know from experience. You got that good-good. He’s lucky.”
They dissolved into laughter again, the kind that felt like old times but better – just two best friends being messy and real.
Lani leaned back against the headboard, still wrapped in the sheet, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. “I feel… happy, Ki. Like really happy. He makes me feel seen. Desired. And the sex? It’s different. He’s so in control but so gentle at the same time. I’ve never had that.”
Kiyah’s eyes softened, but the grin stayed. “You deserve it, Lani. After everything. You deserve a man who looks at you like you’re the whole menu.”
They kept talking – playful flirting slipping in the way it always did when they were like this. Kiyah calling her “sexy ass” and Lani telling her more about rich. It was light, fun, safe.
Then the kids needed Kiyah.
Carter’s voice came through first, yelling something about a toy. Cairo followed with “Mama, he hit me!” even though nobody had.
Kiyah rolled her eyes fondly. “These terrorists are up. Hold on.”
Naylani popped on screen next, braids neat, big smile. “Hi Mommy!”
“Hey, baby.” Lani cooed, heart full. “You being good for your Ki-Ki and Daddy?”
Naylani nodded seriously. “I helped with CiCi’s bottle. She’s getting so big.”
Lani blew a kiss. “I love you. Tell Daddy I said thank you for keeping you this weekend.”
Then CiCi crawled into frame, chubby cheeks and wild curls, reaching for the phone like she knew exactly who was on the other end.
“Hi, God-mama’s baby!” Lani squealed, cooing nonsense until CiCi giggled and clapped.
The twins shoved their way in next, arguing over who got to say hi first. Lani laughed until her stomach hurt, watching Kiyah wrangle all four of them with that effortless mom energy.
“Alright, y’all, let me say bye.” Kiyah said, shooing them gently. “Love you, girly pop. Call me tomorrow. I want the full play-by-play of tonight in that dress. Send pics.”
“I will. Love you more.” Lani said, waving until the screen went dark.
She set the phone down and looked at the dress again, fingers tracing the soft fur.
The suite was quiet.
Her body was still humming.
And for the first time in forever, Lani wasn’t overthinking a single thing.
She was just… happy.
And tonight, she was wearing that dress for the man who made her feel like this.
Chapter Fourteen
The call ended, but the smile didn’t.
Kiyah lowered the phone slowly, still shaking her head, a soft laugh escaping as she pictured Lani in that knit dress with the fur shawl later tonight. Lani was glowing in a hotel suite somewhere across town and she was genuinely happy for her.
That girl is really outside for real now.
After everything – Nasir, Malcolm, years of making herself smaller – Lani was finally letting herself be spoiled. Kiyah felt a warm surge of pride and something close to relief. If anybody deserved a man who saw her, it was her best friend.
And yes, Shaye held her heart but Lani had also become an important part of her life.
CiCi patted Kiyah’s cheek with a sticky hand, bringing her back to the present.
“Alright, baby girl.” Kiyah murmured, adjusting her higher on her hip. “Your god-mommy is living her best hot-girl weekend. We gotta hold the fort down over here.”
Across the penthouse, the noise level had already reached expert chaos.
“THAT’S MINE!” Carter yelled.
“It’s not yours, you just had it!” Cairo shot back.
Nay stood in the middle of it all, arms crossed, nine years old and already running the room.
“You both had it.” she said, calm but final. “So now nobody gets it. Give it here.”
They actually listened.
Kiyah smiled to herself.
Best big sister energy I’ve ever seen.
She made her way into the living room, one hand resting on the firm curve of her belly. Five months. The baby was making its presence known now – flutters that felt less like butterflies and more like someone was gently reminding her: I’m here. Life is still growing while everything else keeps moving.
“Alright.” Kiyah said, stepping in. “What are we arguing about?”
The usual suspects gave their usual testimony.
Kiyah laughed, easing herself onto the couch. “New rule. Share or lose it. Simple.”
Carter frowned. “That’s not fair.”
“It is fair.” Nay corrected. “You just don’t like it.”
Cairo nodded solemnly. “Yeah… I don’t like it.”
Kiyah pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it.”
The doorbell rang.
CiCi’s head snapped up. “DADA?!”
“Not this time, baby.” Kiyah laughed, standing carefully.
When she opened the door, the village poured in.
“Heyyyyy!” Harlow sang, bright and loud, Hazel on her hip.
Hazel’s big hazel eyes lit up immediately, curls bouncing as she reached out.
“Ki-Ki!” she babbled.
“There’s my baby!” Kiyah cooed, taking her gently with one arm and kissing her cheek. “You getting big on me, huh?”
Behind Harlow, Harper stepped in slower, one hand resting on her own growing belly.
Five months along.
Glowing in that quiet, effortless way she always did.
Milan walked in beside her, calm, observant, already scanning the room.
Arielle came in last, “Okay, who’s in charge here?” she asked immediately.
Nobody answered.
Because everybody already knew the answer was her.
“Hi, Auntie Kiyah.” Milan said softly, walking over for a hug.
“Hey, baby.” Kiyah said, pulling her in close. “You doing okay?”
Milan nodded. “Yeah.”
Arielle flopped onto the couch like she owned it. “I’m hungry.”
Kiyah blinked. “You just got here.”
“And?” Arielle replied.
This damn girl. A mouth just like her mother, Kiyah thought.
Harlow laughed, dropping her bag by the door. “She been asking about snacks since we left the house.”
“Because nobody fed me correctly.” Arielle said, serious.
Carter perked up. “We got snacks.”
Cairo added, “And juice.”
Arielle sat up. “Okay, I’ll stay.”
Decision made.
•••
Within minutes the penthouse was full in the best way. Their voices overlapping, little feet everywhere, laughter bouncing off the walls like it belonged there.
Hazel waddled after CiCi, the two of them babbling back and forth like they were having a full conversation nobody else understood.
Carter and Cairo tried to teach Arielle a “game” that made absolutely no sense.
“It’s called super jump ninja car.” Cairo explained.
“That’s not a real game.” Milan said quietly.
“It is now.” Carter insisted.
Nay sat at the table helping Milan with a worksheet she’d brought, both of them focused, calm in the middle of the storm.
In the kitchen, while the kids tore through snacks and played, the women settled into their rhythm.
“So wait,” Harlow said, eyes wide as she stole a grape from the bowl. “Lani got gifted designer bags while she was asleep? Girl, Mr. Rich is playing no games.”
Kiyah grinned, rubbing her belly. “Exact sizes. All her favorites. She sent me a picture of the dress she’s wearing tonight. It’s knit with this thick fur shawl. She sounded so happy I almost cried on the phone.”
Harper leaned against the counter, smiling softly. “After everything she’s been through? I love this for her. He better keep that same energy.”
Arielle popped a strawberry in her mouth. “If he hurts her I’ll fight him. I’m small but I’m vicious. That’s what my daddy says I am.”
The three women burst out laughing.
“Arielle go play!” Harper told her firmly.
Kiyah stood in the kitchen with Harlow and Harper, watching it all.
And smiling.
“This is crazy.” Harlow said, shaking her head as Hazel tried to climb onto a chair she absolutely couldn’t handle.
“This is family.” Kiyah corrected softly.
Harper leaned against the counter, one hand rubbing her belly. “You good? Five months now, right?”
Kiyah nodded. “Yeah. I feel it more now. Not just physically… everything. It’s real.”
Harlow smiled. “You been glowing since month two. Don’t act brand new.”
“I’m serious.” Kiyah laughed. “I actually feel… calm.”
Harper raised an eyebrow. “With all of this?”
Right on cue, “HE PUSHED ME!” Carter yelled.
“NO!” Cairo yelled back.
Arielle stood on the couch. “EVERYBODY STOP!”
Silence.
Immediate.
Kiyah blinked.
“…I might be raising a future CEO.” Harper said, while laughing.
“You are.” Harlow confirmed.
“And I support it.” Kiyah added.
They all laughed.
•••
Kiyah felt the warmth settle deep in her chest. This – right here – was why she could breathe. The expansion meetings, Iyana’s subtle plays, the constant pull of Nasir’s growing empire… none of it felt impossible when she had this.
Later, when the kids had finally burned some energy and the living room looked like a toy bomb went off, Kiyah sank into the couch with CiCi curled against her side. Hazel was half-asleep on Harlow’s chest.
Milan and Nay were quietly drawing together on the floor.
Carter and Cairo had finally burned themselves out and were laying across each other like they’d fought a war.
Arielle?
Still talking.
“…and then I told her she couldn’t sit there because that’s where important people sit.” she explained.
“Who’s important?” Harlow asked.
Arielle pointed to herself.
“Me.”
Kiyah laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach.
“I love her.” she said.
“Me too.” Harper replied. “She stressful… but I love her.” Harper and Tone had full custody of Arielle now with weekend visitations with her mom.
It wasn’t an easy transition but they learned to stop letting Janelle get to them.
Kiyah looked around at all of it and the same quiet thought rose again.
We really did this.
Not perfect.
But chosen.
Real.
The front door opened.
“DADDY!” Carter and Cairo screamed, launching themselves at Nasir like they hadn’t seen him in weeks.
Arielle waved like she was on stage.
“I’m in charge.” she informed him.
He raised an eyebrow. “I see.”
He stepped in, taking in the beautiful disaster with one sweep of his eyes. When his gaze landed on Kiyah, his whole face softened.
He crossed the room, leaned down, and kissed her slow and deep.
The kind of kiss that still made her toes curl even after everything they’d been through.
“How you feeling, baby?” he asked against her lips, one hand automatically covering her belly.
“Better now.” she whispered. “How was your day?”
Nasir’s jaw flexed for half a second. “Iyana sent the updated Miami deck. Looks clean. But I made it clear again – the next meeting happens here. With you in the room.”
Kiyah searched his face, then nodded once. “Good.”
He kissed her forehead, then stood up straight, addressing the whole room.
“Y’all turned my house into a whole daycare, huh?”
“It’s called family.” Kiyah shot back, smiling.
Nasir looked around – at the kids, his wife, his sisters, the noise, the love – and gave that rare, full grin.
“Yeah.” he said quietly. “It is.”
Chapter Fifteen
Lani stood in front of the full-length mirror in the suite, the late-afternoon light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows and wrapping her in gold.
The knit dress Rich had chosen for her clung to every curve like it had been custom-woven for her body alone. The deep V plunged between her breasts, the soft ribbed fabric hugging her waist before flaring slightly over her hips and falling to mid-thigh. Over it, the thick taupe fur shawl draped across her shoulders like liquid luxury, the contrast of soft fur against her smooth brown skin making her feel expensive. Powerful. Desired.
She turned slowly, the diamond choker at her throat catching the light with every movement. Her hair fell in loose, glossy waves down her back, makeup soft but sultry…smoky eyes, glossy lips, the exact look that said she wasn’t trying too hard but knew exactly what she was doing. Or rather, what he wanted her doing.
The obedience had already started settling into her bones.
She heard the keycard click in the door and her pulse jumped.
Rich stepped inside, black button-down unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to show the full sleeve of tattoos. His eyes found her immediately.
He stopped.
The air in the suite thickened.
“Turn around.” he said, voice low, calm, and commanding. No please. No question.
Lani obeyed without hesitation, pivoting slowly on her heels so the fur shawl shifted and the dress pulled tighter across her ass. She felt his gaze like hands-dragging from the choker at her throat, down the deep plunge of the neckline, over her hips, and back up again.
“Fuck, Lani.” he murmured, stepping closer until his chest brushed her back. One big tattooed hand settled possessively at her waist. “You look like you were made for me to show off tonight. And ruin later.”
She shivered, leaning back into his touch. “You picked it. I just put it on.”
He hummed, lips brushing the tip of her ear. “That’s right. You put it on because I told you to. Good girl.”
The praise hit her low and hot. Her thighs pressed together on instinct. Rich noticed-of course he noticed-and his hand slid lower, cupping the curve of her ass through the dress, squeezing once, firm but gentle.
“You’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” he asked, voice dropping another octave.
“Yes.” she whispered, no shame, no hesitation. Just truth.
He turned her to face him, tilting her chin up with two fingers. His eyes were dark, intense, that same steady dominance that had made her melt on the phone and in the ice cream shop parking lot.
“You listen so pretty.” he said. “That shit turns me on more than you know. Tonight, at this dinner, you’re gonna keep listening. When I tell you to do something-even small-you do it. No questions. Understand?”
She nodded, eyes locked on his. “Yes.”
His thumb dragged across her bottom lip, smearing the gloss just enough to mark her as his. “Good. Now let’s go before I bend you over this bed and we miss the whole meeting.”
The restaurant was on the top floor of a sleek downtown tower, all glass walls and city lights sparkling like diamonds against the night sky.
Private tables, low lighting, candle flames dancing in heavy crystal holders. Rich’s hand stayed at the small of her back the entire walk through the dining room-possessive, guiding, never letting her forget who she belonged to tonight.
Their table was in a semi-private alcove overlooking the river, already set with crisp white linens, silver, and two men waiting.
Both in tailored suits, both clearly high-level. One was older, silver at the temples, the kind of man who moved money in quiet rooms.
The other was younger, sharp-eyed, probably the operations guy.
Rich pulled Lani’s chair out first, then sat beside her, close enough that his thigh pressed against hers under the table.
“Gentlemen.” Rich said, voice smooth and commanding. “This is Lani. She’s with me tonight.”
The way he said it left no room for misinterpretation.
She’s mine.
Both men nodded respectfully. “Pleasure.”
The conversation started light-drinks ordered (Rich chose a bold red for them both without asking), appetizers placed. But it quickly shifted to business, and Lani watched Rich transform. Calm. Precise. In total control.
He leaned back slightly, one arm draped along the back of her chair, fingers occasionally brushing the bare skin of her shoulder beneath the fur shawl. Every touch was deliberate.
“We’re expanding the logistics arm into high-net-worth private transport.” Rich said, voice even but authoritative. “Not just security-full end-to-end. Encrypted routes, real-time tracking, personnel who understand discretion. Your clients in Miami and Atlanta have been asking for it. I can deliver in six months if the contracts are signed by end of next week.”
The older man nodded, impressed. “Numbers look aggressive.”
“They’re realistic.” Rich corrected, calm but firm. “I don’t pad projections. I deliver. That’s why you’ve been with me three years and never lost a shipment.”
Lani listened, thighs pressed tight together. The way he spoke-confident, decisive, no filler-had her ready to sit on his face. She crossed her legs under the table exactly the way his hand had guided her earlier.
Rich noticed. His fingers tightened on her shoulder for a second, a silent good girl in the squeeze.
Under the table, his other hand slid onto her thigh, pushing the hem of the dress higher, palm warm against her skin. He didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the men, discussing vendor contracts and risk mitigation like he wasn’t two fingers away from teasing her panties.
“Cross your legs the other way.” he murmured to her during a brief pause, voice low enough only she could hear.
She did it immediately, the movement pressing her thighs together around his hand. He squeezed once, a reward, then traced slow circles on the inside of her thigh, higher each time, until his fingertips brushed the lace edge of her panties.
She bit her lip to keep from gasping.
The younger man was talking now about supply chain redundancies, contingency plans. Rich listened, nodding, but his hand never stopped its slow, possessive exploration. When the waiter refilled their wine, Rich leaned in close to Lani’s ear.
“Keep your eyes on me when they speak.” he whispered. “I want you focused on my voice. Only.”
She obeyed, turning her gaze to him even as the conversation continued around them. Her obedience made his eyes darken with heat. She could see the way his jaw flexed, the way his breathing stayed controlled but his grip on her thigh tightened.
That turned him on. Her submission. Her immediate, unquestioning obedience.
The business talk deepened. Rich laid out expansion numbers with surgical precision. The projected revenue from the new private-client vertical, union wage structures for his vetted security teams, licensing hurdles he’d already cleared in three states. He was brilliant. Controlled.
Dominant in his business the same way he was in the bedroom.
And every time he made a decisive point, his fingers would slip higher, brushing over her panties, pressing just enough to make her breath hitch.
“You’re soaked.” he murmured once, during a moment when the older man stepped away to take a call. “Listening to me work does that to you?”
“Yes.” she whispered, voice barely audible.
His eyes flashed. “Good. Keep listening. When I tell you to spread your legs a little wider under the table, you do it. No hesitation.”
She did. Immediately.
The fur shawl slipped slightly off one shoulder. Rich reached over casually and adjusted it, but his fingers lingered, tracing the diamond choker at her throat like a collar.
“You look fucking perfect sitting here like this.” he said under his breath. “Obedient. Wet. Mine.”
The dinner stretched. Courses came and went. Rich closed the deal with a quiet, firm handshake over dessert and contracts to be sent first thing Monday, with his exact terms.
The men left impressed, respectful, and slightly intimidated.
The second they were alone at the table, Rich turned fully to her.
His hand slid higher, two fingers pressing firmly against her panties, rubbing slow circles over her clit through the lace.
“You were perfect, baby.” he said, voice rough now, the dominant edge fully exposed. “Sat there listening, obeying every quiet command. That shit has me hard as fuck under this table.”
Lani’s breath trembled. “I liked it.” she admitted, voice soft. “I like when you tell me what to do.”
His eyes darkened to near black. “Yeah? Then listen to this one. When we get back to the suite, you’re keeping this dress on. Just the shawl off. You’re gonna ride my face until you come, then I’m gonna fuck you slow and deep while you tell me how much you love obeying me.”
She whimpered softly, thighs trembling around his hand.
He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “And Lani?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t come again until I say so. Understand?”
She nodded, already dripping for him. “Yes.”
“Give me your phone.” She quickly passed it to him. He snapped a few pictures of her.
“Pretty ass. Let’s go, mamas. I’m ready to take care of you.” Lani blushed.
He stood, pulled her chair out, and helped her up, hand firm at the small of her back as they walked out. The city lights glittered below them like stars, but all Lani could feel was the heat of his dominance, the way her body responded to every word, every touch, every command.
Tonight wasn’t just dinner.
It was the beginning of Rich showing her exactly what it felt like to be led…
completely, passionately, and without question…
by a man who knew how to take care of what was his.
And Lani?
She was ready to follow.
Chapter Sixteen
Kiyah stood in the walk-in closet of the penthouse, turning slowly in front of the full-length mirror, one hand resting on the firm, rounded swell of her belly. She was really showing now. Not just a bump, but a full, glowing pregnancy that made the black long-sleeve dress she’d chosen look criminal. The fabric clung to every curve, high neck but sheer enough through the torso to hint at the smooth brown skin underneath, the hem skimming just above her knees. It hugged her breasts, her waist, and that pregnant belly like it had been tailored by someone who understood power and beauty at the same time. Her long wavy hair fell in glossy waves down her back, makeup beat to perfection-smoky eyes, glossy nude lips, the kind of glow that came from good sex, good love, and knowing you looked like a whole snack.
She knew she looked good.
She felt it too.
A soft pink Birkin sat on the bench beside her, the glossy crocodile skin catching the light like it belonged on the arm of a woman who didn’t play about her man.
Shaye leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching with a proud grin. The kids were already in the living-room.
CiCi napping, the twins and Naylani deep in some chaotic game Shaye had set up with snacks and tablets.
“Damn, Ki.” Shaye said, whistling low. “You are not playing fair tonight. That dress is hugging you like it’s scared to let go. Nasir’s gonna have to fight Iyana and his own dick.”
Kiyah laughed, turning side to side, hand still on her belly. “Good. Let her see what she can’t have. Let her see what’s mine.” She adjusted the diamond studs in her ears, the ones Nasir had given her for their last anniversary. “She’s been playing in my husband’s face long enough. Tonight she meets the wife.”
Shaye stepped in, adjusting the hem of the dress for her. “You look like a pregnant baddie who will absolutely drag a bitch if she has to. But please don’t. Keep my little one safe. I’m proud of your growth though. Go handle that. I got the kids all night. Don’t rush home.”
Kiyah pulled her into a tight hug. “Love you.”
“Love you more. Now go make that woman regret every flirty little brush she ever tried.”
•••
The restaurant was one of those sleek, high-end spots downtown. It had dim lighting, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights, private booths with velvet seating and crystal glassware.
Nasir had chosen it deliberately. Neutral ground. Business only.
Until it wasn’t.
He waited for Kiyah at the entrance, looking every inch the man who had built an empire from nothing.
Black tailored suit, crisp black shirt unbuttoned at the collar just enough to show the edge of his neck tattoos, Cuban link gleaming, watch catching the light.
When he saw her walking toward him, heels clicking, belly proud, pink Birkin swinging on her arm…his entire face changed.
“Goddamn, baby.” he murmured, pulling her close the second she was in reach. One big hand wrapping possessively over her belly, the other sliding down to grip her ass through the dress.
He kissed her slow and deep, right there in the lobby, tongue sliding against hers like he didn’t care who saw. “You trying to make me cancel this whole dinner?”
Kiyah smiled against his mouth, glowing. “No canceling. I want her to see this.” She pressed her body into him. “All of this.”
He groaned low. “You look too fucking good. I’m already hard just looking at you.”
“Good.” she whispered, nipping his bottom lip. “Keep that energy for later.”
They walked in together-Nasir’s hand at the small of her back, Kiyah’s head high, pregnant belly on full display like a crown. The hostess led them to the private booth in the back.
Iyana was already there.
She looked up from her phone, professional smile in place.
She wore a cream silk blouse, tailored pencil skirt, hair in those loose curls. The second she saw them, the smile froze.
Her eyes widened. She actually lost her breath for a second, chest rising sharply as she took in Kiyah-glowing, pregnant, beautiful-pressed against Nasir like she belonged there.
Because she did.
Nasir didn’t miss it. Neither did Kiyah.
“Iyana.” Nasir said, voice even as he helped Kiyah slide into the booth first, then sat beside her, arm immediately draping along the back of her seat. “This is my wife, Kiyah. She needed to be here today. She’s part of every major decision. Especially this one. No wife. No deal.”
Iyana recovered fast, but not fast enough. “Of course. Kiyah… nice to finally meet you.” Her voice was polite, but her eyes flicked over Kiyah’s belly, the way Nasir’s hand rested protectively on it, the way Kiyah smiled like she already knew every game Iyana had tried to play.
Kiyah’s smile was sweet. Polished. Deadly. “Likewise.”
The waiter came. Drinks were ordered. Sparkling water for Kiyah, whiskey neat for Nasir, white wine for Iyana. Then the business started.
Nasir laid the Miami deal out clean and professional. Revenue projections. Build-out timeline. The training pipeline for formerly incarcerated barbers-union wages, mentorship, the full model that had made Fifth Ave Cuts different. He slid the updated deck across the table, numbers crisp, timelines tight. Iyana asked sharp questions about licensing, franchise structure, marketing rollout. Nasir answered every one without hesitation, voice steady, dominant in the same way he was at home.
Kiyah knew why Iyana wanted him.
She was the same way when she first saw him.
Kiyah listened, chiming in at the right moments…smart, informed, the perfect partner. Her hand rested on Nasir’s thigh under the table, a quiet claim. Every time Iyana’s eyes drifted to him a second too long, Kiyah’s fingers tightened.
The deal closed over dessert.
Iyana signed off on the final terms, full green light for the Miami location, training cohort starting in ninety days, marketing budget approved. Handshakes across the table. Professional smiles.
Then the plates were cleared.
And Kiyah turned her full attention to Iyana.
She leaned forward slightly, one hand still on her belly, voice low but crystal clear.
“So,” Kiyah said, smiling that same sweet smile, “now that the business is handled… let me make something very clear.”
Iyana blinked, caught off guard.
Kiyah’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.
“Nasir is my husband. The father of my children. The man I built this life with. I know you’re aware of that. I know you’ve been brushing up against him in those little shop tours, dropping those ‘you’re so authentic’ compliments, touching his shoulder like you have the right. Let me help you understand something real quick.”
Iyana opened her mouth.
Kiyah kept going, calm, lethal, and messy.
“This is my husband. You will not be getting a whiff of this dick. This is my only warning to you. Keep your hands and your flirty little comments to yourself. I will beat the shit out of you. Baby and all. Please don’t get it twisted. People think Nas is the one to be afraid of. Baby… you ain’t seen a wife who’s tired of bitches feeling comfortable touching her man.”
The table went dead silent.
Iyana’s eyes widened in pure shock. Her perfectly composed face cracked. “Excuse you?”
Kiyah leaned in just a fraction more, smile never wavering.
“You heard what the fuck I said. Watch yourself moving forward.”
Nasir didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His hand slid higher on Kiyah’s thigh under the table, squeezing once…proud, turned on, completely in her corner.
Iyana sat there, stunned, mouth slightly open like no one had ever spoken to her that way in her entire polished, ambitious life.
Kiyah grabbed her pink Birkin, sliding out of the booth with Nasir’s steady hand helping her up. She didn’t look back.
Nasir dropped a stack of bills on the table, nodded once at Iyana, and followed his wife out.
The second they were in the car, Nasir’s hand was on her thigh, sliding the dress up.
“Baby… you just handled that like a fucking boss.” he growled, voice rough. “I’m taking you to the hotel right now. I need to fuck the life out of you.”
Kiyah smiled, legs parting for his hand. “Good. I’m soaked just from putting her in her place.”
•••
The 4-star hotel was sleek and private. A suite on the top floor, city lights glittering through the windows.
The second the door shut, Nasir had Kiyah pressed against it, kissing her like he’d been starving for her the entire dinner.
His hands roamed-cupping her belly gently, then sliding down to grip her ass, yanking her against the hard line of his dick.
“Fuck, baby.” he groaned against her mouth. “Watching you check her like that… I’ve never been harder in my life.”
Kiyah moaned, hands tugging at his shirt. “She needed to know. This is my husband. This dick is mine.”
He spun her around, bending her over the back of the couch-careful with her belly, always so careful even when he was wild. He hiked the dress up over her hips, yanked her lace thong to the side, and buried his face in her pussy from behind.
Kiyah cried out, fingers gripping the cushions. “Nasir-shit-yes-“
He ate her messy, nasty, tongue fucking her deep while two thick fingers rubbed her clit. “This pussy wet as hell for me. You been clenching the whole ride over here thinking about how you shut her down?”
“Yes-oh God-yes-“
He made her come hard on his tongue, legs shaking, moaning his name loudly.
Then he stood, freed his thick dick, and slid into her in one deep stroke.
Kiyah’s back arched. “Fuck-baby-you’re so deep-“
He fucked her slow at first, deep, grinding strokes that had her pushing back on him, ass bouncing.
One hand held her belly protectively, the other fisted her hair.
“This my pussy.” he growled, thrusting harder. “Mine to fuck. Mine to fill. Say it.”
“It’s yours-Nasir-it’s yours-“
He pulled out, spun her around, and lifted her onto the bed…gentle with the belly, but the way he spread her legs and buried himself again was pure filth. He fucked her missionary, deep and passionate, forehead pressed to hers, eyes locked.
“I love you.” he panted, hips snapping. “Love this pregnant pussy. Love how you claimed me tonight. You’re my wife. My queen. My everything.”
Kiyah came again, nails digging into his back, crying out as she clenched around him.
He followed right after, burying himself deep and filling her with a low, deep groan, kissing her through it like he couldn’t get close enough.
They stayed like that for long minutes with him still inside her, hands on her belly, whispering I love yous between soft, messy kisses.
Then he pulled out, flipped her onto her side, and slid back in from behind.
It was slow, lazy strokes now, one hand rubbing her clit, the other cupping her breast.
“Again.” he murmured against her neck. “I need you again. All night.”
Kiyah moaned, pushing back on him. “Yes, baby. Take it. It’s yours.”
They went three more rounds.
It was nasty, passionate, full of love.
Him eating her on the balcony overlooking the city. Her riding him slow on the couch, belly between them, his hands worshipping every inch of her. Him bending her over the bathroom counter, fucking her while she watched them in the mirror, telling her how beautiful she looked carrying his baby.
By the time they finally collapsed, sweaty, spent, and wrapped around each other, Kiyah was glowing harder than she had all night.
Nasir kissed her belly, then her lips. “Nobody touches what’s mine. And nobody disrespects my wife. Ever.”
Kiyah smiled, fingers tracing his tattoos. “I know, baby. I know.”
Storybookbybree 