Page 24 of Rich and Rotten

She looked so much like Tatiana, but she also resembled Nazani with her curly hair and the dimple on her cheek. She also had the exact birthmark that my mother had, and I hadn’t met many people with the same.

I didn’t miss the look on Tatiana’s face when her daughter rounded that corner and ran into her arms. She looked like she wanted to disappear into thin air and refused to look me in the eyes. I had a nagging feeling that little girl was my daughter. Not to mention, she reminded me of Zareena when she was younger.

“Alright, no sugar and just a dash of honey.”

Natalie placed the tea down on a coaster while getting cozy on the other end of the couch. Then she tossed her throw across her legs and took a sip of tea from her mug.

“Why are you awake at this hour?” I asked.

“I was doing some last-minute work and couldn’t sleep much. My homie and I have been going at it lately.”

I snorted. “Does homie have a name, Nat?”

She giggled. “You don’t need to know that until I’m sure. I feel like I’m sure, but then there are things that keep me on the fence. Anyway, I’m not the one who showed up in your driveway. What’s going on?”

“I saw her.”

Natalie casually blew on her tea. “Who? Please don’t tell me it’s that chick you couldn’t get rid of.”

“Tatiana.”

Her eyes widened. “Thee Tatiana Rich?”

The moment I couldn’t give Natalie what she needed in terms of love and a relationship, she wanted to know the woman behind my reason. I told her daily she should have been a therapist with the way I would lay on her couch and share everything I was feeling. I was able to cry and be vulnerable when I was in her space. That was something I couldn’t do or be out in the world. My clients paid me big money to protect their families and knew my reputation, which is why they had no problem sending over seven figures to ensure their family’s safety. What would I look like crying on the job or discussing my personal shit?

When I first started, it was just me. I was the nigga who went from state to state––even out of the country––with whatever family had the best price. Over the years, I built a team of solid men who could ensure the safety of my clients.

I knew Jonah from around the hood. We didn’t know each other personally, but we knew about each other. We would acknowledge each other and keep it at that. When he sent word through the grapevine that he needed security for his family, I reached out to him to see what he was talking about.

Jonah Cross’s money was long, but little was known about his movements or whether he had a family. His vague explanation about needing to protect his goddaughter and her mother caught me off guard. He invited me to meet with her, and that’s when I saw the love of my life. The woman I should have married had been asleep under the same roof as me for nearly an hour, and I hadn’t known. Nor did I know I was sharing a drink with her best friend.

“Yeah.”

“How did the two of you end up crossing paths?” Natalie was now fully invested.

“It was only a matter of time. Her father is in the life, and I heard she married into it, too. That’s all I knew because I purposely didn’t go looking for her.”

She sighed. “Well, what did you say to her, Nazir?”

I watched as she tucked her legs underneath her and watched me closely.

“I didn’t get to say much because she made it very clear that things would stay strictly business between us. But I could see she was hurt. The shit was easier to deal with when I didn’t have to look into her eyes.”

“Well, you have to face the consequences of your actions that you made years ago. We all have to answer for the decisions we make.”

“She was pregnant with my baby.”

Natalie had just started to sip her tea when I blurted out those words, causing her to spit it all over the coffee table, with some hitting my arm. I was so numb that the liquid hitting my arm didn’t bother me.

“What do you mean?”

“She has a daughter, and I think she’s mine. Nat, she has the same dimple as Nazani and the same birthmark as my mother. She looks like a younger Zareena.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ask her?”