“Quiet,” Asad orders in a low, even voice, and the noise instantly silences. “I understand the long tradition of this family, and I respect it. But traditions are guides, not gatekeepers. They shouldn’t hold us back from progress and change.”
“Not all change is good change,” an older man with a thick salt-and-pepper beard sitting near the other end of the table says. Several people shift in their chairs, their discomfort obvious. While others nod, agreeing with this sentiment.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not needed either. Without the infusion of something new, innovative, and fresh, the old will grow stagnant and fade away into obscurity or death. No one here wants that, and it’s not going to happen on my watch. And don’t interrupt me again.” The threat in Asad’s voice holds the promise of blood and a thousand screams. Yes, I might be a little dramatic, but then again, not in this instance. The older soldier dips his chin and leans back in his chair. “As I was saying, there will be changes going forward. The first and most obvious being the inclusion of women in our leadership and organization. All respect to Marcus and the Cross men before him, but it’s foolish to discount the strength, talents, and intelligence women have to offer this organization simply because they don’t have dicks. Nah, we’re Black men, and no one knows more than us that we’re our strongest and most completewhen our queens are beside us. And if that includes busting guns, if that’s what they choose, then we in this shit together.”
Well, damn.
My breath whistles between my ears, my pulse just as loud.
My pussy is ten times wetter.
“If anyone has an issue with that, now is your chance to leave—your one and only chance. If you remain seated in your chair, I’m assuming you’re good with this change.” He pauses. And under his scrutiny, no one utters a word. “Good. This next one shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone. Marcus had his advisors, and so will I. So thank you, Xavier, Deacon, and Malcolm, for your service, leadership, and loyalty. I know Marcus valued your friendship and wisdom.”
Oh shit.
Shots fired.
He’s sitting Xavier, Deacon, and Malcolm down. It’s a move that’s shocking. But… isn’t. Asad would be a fool to keep them as his officers when their loyalty is questionable. And you can say many things about Asad Prince—trust and believe, I do—but being a fool isn’t one of them. But demoting them is one thing. Killing them for attempting to take you out is something different, and I still don’t understand why Asad’s toying with them.
Unable to help myself, I peek across the table where Marcus’s second and counselor sit. Xavier, a distinguished older man with wavy salt-and-pepper hair in a large frame draped in a tailored Italian suit, wears a congenial smile, but it doesn’t reach his hazel eyes, and if his hands clasp any tighter, he might crack his own bones. Deacon, smaller in build than Xavier, with a gleaming bald head and dark brown eyes, stares at Asad with no hint of emotion. It’s unsettling, but it’s also more honest than the polite smile curving Xavier’s mouth.
“Xavier, Deacon, Malcolm, we can speak specifics afterward about the change in your organizational roles going forward. But rest assured, there’s always a place for you here.”
He shifts his attention away from them after delivering the verbal version of a pink slip, and I don’t know whether to be impressed by his lack of fucks or horrified by his cavalier pop-lock with death. Because I don’t need to be a mentalist or body language specialist to peep that both Xavier and Deacon crave it. Even if I weren’t aware of their betrayals, the coldness in their gazes as they watch Asad would put me up on game.
“All of you probably know my people, but let me reintroduce you. Eli Rodney, my new second. Samuel Chavis, my advisor.”
Another current of murmurings undulates on the air, and I can’t blame them. Shock catapults through me, and I jerk my head in Sam’s direction. Traditionally, the leadership were members of the organization. Though being Marcus’s best friend made him privy to all the workings of the Cross empire, Sam belongs to the corporate side. As if he’s been lying in wait, he meets my gaze with a steady one of his own. The other night in the library, he never mentioned being one of Asad’s newly appointed officers. Hell, I didn’t even think the two liked each other. Oh, Sam has some explaining to do.
“And Makeda Hannah as my enforcer.”
If discovering Sam’s new appointment caused a stir, the announcement of a woman being in a key high-ranking position incites a tsunami that rushes through the room with shrieking winds.
“This is going too far,” the same man from earlier snaps, rising to his feet. “It’s one thing trying to force us to accept women in our ranks. But to place one in power above us? Having us report to a female? You’re going too far now. What the fuck was Marcus think—”
The rest of his sentence is cut off by a bullet to the forehead.
Blood sprays, splattering a couple of people nearest the body before it drops to the floor with a thud, knocking his chair back and sending it rolling several feet away from the table. I blink. So that’s why the floor in here is concrete. Easier to hose down the blood and brain matter.
Asad slides his Glock back into the shoulder holster under his suit jacket and continues as if he didn’t just blow the back of a man’s head out.
“His first mistake was interrupting me again. His second one was not taking the out I gave him and everybody in this room. I said if you couldn’t deal with the changes, you could walk out that door. But since he decided to keep his ass in that seat, he chose the other way of leaving. Mistake three.” He leans forward, planting his palms on the table. His rich, heady scent taunts me, and all that dominant power teases my pussy. “Challenging me. This is my first and last time saying this. Marcus is dead. His era as head of Cross is over, and now I’m running it. And this ain’t a democracy; we don’t vote on shit. Yes, I’ll take your opinions and suggestions under advisement, but I have the final say. You have the right to not like it, but, muthafuckas, you better watch your delivery. I don’t do disrespect well.” He scans everyone seated at the table and against the walls. Including me. “Good, now that we’re clear, on to the next thing.”
He straightens and slips his hands in his pants pockets, his manner calm as if he didn’t just threaten everyone in the room.
“Glass Slipper is still moving, and we’ve been contacted by the Morrel organization in Seattle. They’ve sampled Glass Slipper, and they’re looking for a plug to distribute it up there. I’m taking the meeting next week, and if that goes well, we’re going to expand. That leaves us with HEA. Ember?”
What? Me? I look at him, momentarily stunned. After arriving, I expected to be a spectator, not a participant. Him asking me to stand in front of a room full of Cross officers andspeakis another break from a decades-long, patriarchal tradition. Not to mention, this will not only be outingwhoI am butwhatI am to this company. Outing a secret Marcus took such pains to keep concealed…
Asad tilts his head, and inhaling a low, deep breath, I slowly rise from my chair. Anxiety twists and knots in my stomach. I’ve operated in the shadows for so long that a part of me has foundcomfort there. Like I told Kareem, invisibility provides a defense, a natural shield. And moving to stand next to Asad—no, in front of him, as he takes a step back and lets me have the head of the table—I’m suddenlytoovisible. Too exposed. Too vulnerable.
But on the other hand…
On the other hand, satisfaction surges through me, hot and fierce.
I belong here.
Marcus did everything in his power to prevent me from being in this place, from seeing this moment. From anyone within this organization that bore my name knowingmy name. Yet, here I am. And not from a position of weakness but strength. My own strength.
