What really captured my attention wasn’t Zonnique panicking and trying to plead her case; it was the woman beside her doing the exact opposite. She was smiling at me with the kind of excitement people usually reserved for family, lovers… or celebrities. She didn’t even flinch at the sight of the gun.
No screaming.
No backing away.
No “oh my God!”
Instead of fear, she looked at me almost fondly, as if that was some long-awaited reunion and not me standing there with a gun pointed directly at her.
Yeah… nah. Something about this ain’t normal.
“Mr. Belvior,” the stranger greeted me happily, stepping forward with entirely too much familiarity. “It’s so nice to finally—”
“Back up!” I ordered.
My voice cracked through the foyer so fast security reacted before she could take another step.
One of my men immediately moved between us, extending an arm across her path.
“Ma’am, stop right there!” he warned firmly. “Give him space.”
Another positioned himself slightly closer behind me out of instinct.
Surprise shifted across the other woman’s face… then offense. It was as if she genuinely couldn’t understand why shewasn’tbeing welcomed with open arms.
She had a slim frame and pretty brown skin that practically glowed beneath the chandelier lighting. Her hair was cut short, soft, dark, and laid perfectly around her face, reminding me of Jada Pinkett back in the day. Something about the look made her seem delicate and dangerous at the same time. Her lips were full, and her eyes were big and expressive, moving carefully around the room like she was trying to figure out exactly what kind of situation she had stepped into.
Hell… I was too.
My eyes lingered on her longer than they should’ve.
Something about her feltfamiliar… not in memory exactly, more like energy. It was like my body recognized something my mind couldn’t place. It was strange enough to irritate me further.
The girl’s expression tightened briefly before smoothing back over.
“I got this,” I muttered finally, motioning security back.
Reluctantly, they stepped away.
I turned back toward Zonnique slowly.
“You want me to hear you out, yet you thought bringing a random woman to my fuckin’ house without warning me first was smart?” I asked, staring at her like stupidity had finally grown legs and walked through my front door. “This is the same shit I had to check yo’ ass about the last time you popped up at my crib unannounced. Zonnique, you know I value my privacy. Half the people in this city don’t even know where I live.” Ipointed at her. “Hell, every morning I wake up wishing you could be added back to that list.”
I stepped closer, watching the panic rise in her face.
Zonnique visibly flinched. Again, the other woman didn’t.
“You don’t sleep here. You don’t pay bills here. You don’t receive mail here. You ain’t got a drawer, a toothbrush, a house shoe, or one damn grocery item in my refrigerator.” I looked around slowly. “There is absolutely nothing in this house that belongs to you but the oxygen you’ve already wasted. And somehow, with all that lack of authority, you still woke up this morning and decided you had the right to escort a complete stranger into my home like you work for the damn tourism board.”
“She’s not a stranger,” Zonnique tried.
“To me, she is. And since this is my house, that’s the only definition that matters.”
My eyes narrowed as I looked between the two women.
“What exactly about me gives ‘warm hospitality’? Do I look approachable? Friendly? Like the type of nigga who enjoys surprise guests and keeps cookies by the door?”
Neither of them answered.
