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But this wasn’t most places.
We trusted the Whitfields enough to know we were good here, a comfort level that was confirmed by the warm, familial greeting we got from Kingston Whitfield himself as soon as we crossed theReverie Casino & Resortthreshold.
With his fine ass.
He was clean cut, privileged, well-spoken, all that jazz. He was Kev, except without the corniness. In another lifetime, I would’ve made him and his dimples my personal playground. In this one, he was a family man, and I respected that. It was all daps and hugs and asking after parents for a few minutes before he gestured for us to follow him.
“Let’s talk business,” he said, turning to lead the way.
Yes.
Let’s.
While our territorial dispute with theMarauders MChad required enlisting the help of the Whitfields as well, this wasn’t that, which was likely why Onyx hadn’t been invited to tag along.Thismeeting was about the dispensary, a venture that could triple our annual revenue.
We just had a little licensing problem.
Meaning no one wanted to give us the appropriate fucking licenses.
They wouldn’t dare turn down the Whitfield name though, so the unlikely friendship between our fathers was actually working in our favor. It didn’t come without a bit of give and take; Kingston wanted stakes in the business, which was fine.
We’d all eat.
As we approached his office, I couldn’t help noticing the security trailing just out of our sight lines, blending in with the crowds, staying discreet, but definitely following. I’d always thought that shit was so pretentious, hiring security for yourself like you were a damn celebrity.
The death of my father had me thinking twice.
There was always somebody who wanted what you had; somebody willing to do whatever it took to get it. And if not that… maybe they just wanted your ass gone, for whatever reason.
It was never a bad idea to have somebody watching your back.
It could wind up being the very thing that kept you alive.
I barely blinked over the appearance of Alicia – also known as Ace – the formidable head of the Whitfields’ security, who’d branched out to a security firm of her own. I knew she was also a family friend, had been with them a long time, even though she was basically the same age as Kingston; just a few years older than me and Brandon.
Her ass hadalwaysbeen menacing, and now was no different.
Even with a pleasant smile on her face as she stood back, watching us get patted down, she carried a distinct air that she could kill you like it was nothing to her. And somehow, the fact that she was beautiful just made it more alarming. Just glancing at her, you might not know she was security; she was dressed more like a guest of the hotel. Chic black pants, simple white top, draped blazer, immaculate silk press… nothing to indicate just how dangerous she was.
She walked into the office with us, pulling King aside to say something.
“Look,” Brandon muttered to me, with a quick, subtle gesture toward his own chest before he tipped his head toward her.
I followed his gaze to where she and King were talking, watching as she pushed her hands into her pockets. When she did, it pulled her blazer back, the camisole underneath offering a clear view to what Brandon was trying to show me.
It was just a peek.
Just acorner.
But it was definitely there.
A goddamn rose tattoo.
Quickly, I glanced away, giving him a wide-eyed look. A moment later, Ace gave us a nod as she left the office, breezing past us like she hadn’t just blown my damn mind.
I tried to pay attention.
I really did.
