With the help ofhim.
Yes. As much as I hate to admit it, with Asad’s help.
Thewhystill lingers in my mind like a cardboard piece attempting to fit in the wrong jigsaw puzzle.
But trying to figure anything out about Asad lately seems the very definition of futility.
“As I discussed with Asad yesterday, HEA is nearly ready to be distributed. It’s tested well with control groups. HEA resembles cocaine, and it’s highly addictive, but without the hallucinations, paranoia, and aggression, just to name a few side effects,” I inform them, fully in my element, talking about my area of knowledge and expertise. Despite the grumbling that could be a reaction to the information I shared or my presence itself, I continue. “The main difference between Glass Slipper and HEA is the latter’s meant to be more of an aphrodisiac. It increases sexual arousal, heightens the senses, as it’s also a stimulant. HEA is the perfect party drug for the affluent demographic between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five.”
The silence damn near screams, it’s so loud. Several people glance at one another, confused frowns wrinkling their eyebrows or turning down their mouths.
“When will HEA be ready for us to give to our crews?” a beautiful woman with long, dark brown locs asks.
Obviously, she’s new to this HoC leadership. It’s almost comically easy to distinguish between the old guard and the new. Most of the former wear dark frowns and are sunken lower in their chairs. Well, if she feels the disapproving glares from some of the men in the room for speaking, she doesn’t acknowledge them. Or maybe she just doesn’t give a fuck.
“Two weeks. Three at the most. And because it’s created to be a more accessible drug at a less expensive price point, the shoe designed for it to be shipped in will also be sold at a less expensive price point.” I glance at Asad, and he nods, granting me permission to disclose this new information. “House of Cross has always been known for couture, but as of the new season, we will roll out a new affordable line that will be stocked in department stores as well as outlet malls. We’ve already constructed how the shoes will be mules for HEA before they’re distributed.”
And by “we,” I meant me. The new line consists of two designs—a beautiful knockoff of one of our best-selling open-toe stiletto sandals with ankle-strap rivet studs, and our version of a platform-heel saddle shoe in various colors. The rhinestones, studs, and laces of the shoes will be coated with HEA and covered in a formula specially designed by me that renders the drugs undetectable by canine units, X-ray scanners, and chemical field testing if the shipments are detained. And that’s a bigif. Who would suspecttheHouse of Cross of smuggling drugs? No one has yet. At least if they had, they hadn’t lived to share their suspicions.
The woman with the locs nods at my answer, and a younger man with long box braids, sitting against the rear wall, gives a low chuckle.
“Okay, I’ma ask what everyone else is thinking but don’t have the balls to because they don’t wanna end up like Jay.” He nudges his chin toward the dead man on the floor. “No disrespect meant, but who are you?”
Michelle snorts. The first pinpricks of anger race over my scalp, down the back of my neck, and sprint down my spine. It wouldn’t take much effort or time to reach over and snap her thin neck. I can just hear the crack of her cervical vertebrae. Can feel the hot spill of grim exultation in my veins lighting me up brighter than the Wilshire Grand.
Giving myself a mental shake, I refocus on the question and the man who issued it and away from my fantasy. Unlike some of the other men, I believe him when he says, “no disrespect.” There’s no aggression or disdain in his voice or face.
“I’m Ember Cross, the head scientist for Cross and the one responsible for designing Glass Slipper and HEA.”
Another street boss pushes off the wall, shifting forward a step. “Cross?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes. Marcus was my father.”
The room erupts with shouts that range from “The fuck?” to “You’s a lie.” A couple of them twist in their seats as if looking for a “punked” camera, while others turn to each other in confusion. The only people who don’t appear shocked besides my stepfamily, Sam, and those who were at dinner last night are Xavier and Deacon.
I don’t know why I’m surprised, as both men were extremely close to my father. And yet… I still am.
For years, I assumed I was Marcus’s shameful secret he literally kept hidden away in the basement. The secret he did his best not to acknowledge to anyone outside of immediate family and Sam. Knowing of their betrayal, it has to make me wonder if they’d actually been privy to the information—from what Sam told me, once my mom had me, I was basically hidden away.
So it doesn’t… fit that Marcus would’ve confided in his lieutenants about me. And if that’s true, then it stands to reason that they discovered the truth about me some other way. But how?
Or who?
“Quiet.” Asad’s low command booms from behind me and reverberates through the room. The resulting silence is almostpainful in its abruptness. “Ember is Marcus’s daughter and only child,” he says, his tone practically daring anyone to contradict him.
The same young soldier speaks again, his palms out. “No offense meant, Prince. Or to you, Ms. Cross. It’s just, most of us here didn’t know Marcus had kids. I mean, blood kids. And we for damn sure didn’t know his daughter was the one responsible for creating our food.”
Michelle softly scoffs, but it’s loud enough to reach my ears, and my fingers curl into a fist on the table, a physical manifestation of the simmering rage that never fully extinguishes when I’m in her presence. Standing in front of this roomful of ruthless, streetwise soldiers with their calculating and way-too-perceptive eyes on me, I can’t afford to let her trigger me. Don’t have the time or privacy to perform one of my coping or grounding techniques. But this bitch is trying me. And the more she pokes, the hotter my anger burns. The more my control slips…
Fingers trail down my back, using my spine as a road map, and my skin pebbles. All of my senses laser focus on that touch and the man exerting it. It—he—grounds me in a way one of my coping mechanisms would have. I force myself not to lean into it. Not to close my eyes and indulge in it. That would be one of the worst mistakes I could make.
Because his touch isn’t just offering me a firm foundation on which to resettle myself. It also extends a perverse sense of safety—perverse since Asad is the one I usually need protection from.
“Now you do,” Asad says. “Like I said, I’ll meet with each of you individually, but there shouldn’t be an interruption in distribution or shipments. If changes are implemented, it will be to make the machine run smoother, not make what we have more difficult for you.” He pauses. “One more announcement before I let you go. Some of you found out last night, but for the others, I’m getting married in a month. You just met my fiancée.” He curves a hand around my hip, and lust wars with confusion andself-directed disgust. This man has been my nemesis since he entered my life thirteen years ago. And yet, here I stand, nipples beading, pussy creaming, skin heating as my body remembers how he’d mastered it, possessed it, fucked it. Who the fuck am I becoming? “You’re all invited to our wedding in a month’s time.”
Various versions of “congratulations” filter through the air, the leadership nodding at me and some even smiling, but Michelle and Kareem remain on mute. The disgust and fury tightening Michelle’s face is expected. But the same anger darkening Kareem’s? Surprise sweeps through me like a drafty, whistling wind. From his words to me last night, I understand he disapproves, but this… rage? It doesn’t fit. Especially considering we barely have a relationship. In my eyes, he’s just slightly better than his mother and brother. And that’s only because he’s always been the weakest link among the three of them, the least threatening.
I narrow my eyes on him, and as if he feels my scrutiny on him, his gaze shifts, meeting mine. In the next instant, his expression clears, his mouth softening, jaw relaxing, eyes losing some of their intensity.
