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That silence and time alone he used to feen for had now become torture. It was far too quiet for his liking now. It only made him think about his downfalls and fuck ups. There was nothing peaceful about being alone in silence anymore. He wasn't too sure if that was the case or if he had just been spoiled with Britain's presence. Being so far away from her felt abnormal. As fair as he was trying to be to her, a selfish part of him wanted to wash his hands of his new position and get his woman back.

Feeling the stress, he let out a heavy breath as he ran his hand down his face. He hadn't been getting much sleep, whichcaused him to wake up earlier than usual. Sitting at the side of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees before putting his hands together for a prayer. He made sure to bow his head and close his eyes as he thanked God for his blessings. He made a special request to keep Britain safe and have her back with him as soon as possible. He signed off the prayer with a light "Amen" before opening his eyes and lifting his head.

Looking over his shoulder, he glanced at Britain's side of the bed. It remained empty and nicely made. Another heavy breath drifted out of him as he shook his head. He knew he would have to adjust quickly since Britain didn't even have an estimated date of return to Italy. She was taking things day by day for her own sake. Her first day in the city didn't go as planned, yet she still never even mentioned returning. That bummed Priest out a bit, but he kept that to himself.

Rising to his feet, he made the bed, which was only unkempt on the side he occupied. Once he finished, he made his way over to their shared closet. Skimming his fingers over the multitude of wardrobe bags that contained his suits, Priest grabbed one at random. Unzipping it, he was pleased to see it was his deep navy-blue tailored Giorgio Armani suit. He laid it on the bed before retreating to the bathroom to begin his hygiene routine.

Being six hours ahead of Britain resulted in Priest going without speaking to her when he first woke up. He didn't want to chance waking her out of her sleep because his morning began while she was still in the wee hours of hers. They had a moderate time frame to talk. By the afternoon in Italy, Britain would be starting her morning in New York.

Glancing down at the bathroom counter, he chuckled at the sight of the sticky notes pressed against various skin care products. In Britain's handwriting, each sticky note was marked with “Use this!" to guide him through a skin care routine she crafted specifically for him. He hadn't taken noticed them untilnow, which meant she made the sticky notes right before she left.

After cleaning himself up, he set out to get dressed. With ease, he glided into the double-breasted Armani suit. He went without the necktie, figuring it would add too much. Heading over to the dresser, where he had most of his jewelry straightened out, he laced his wrist with his Richard Mille watch and then secured the pendant dedicated to Jamari around his neck.

Once he finished getting dressed, he made his way toward the mirror that decorated one of the walls in their bedroom and looked himself over. He smoothed his hand over the suit before letting out a light sigh. As always, he reminded himself who he was, which brought back his confident demeanor. "Priest Kanaz Justice."

His hands drifted down to the pockets of his slacks. He could feel something inside and furrowed his brows. He extracted the item, holding it up to his face. To his surprise, it was Britain's memory card that he had taken earlier in their relationship. He had taken the memory card when he found himself conflicted about whether he could trust her when she showed up at his trial as a reporter forThe New York Times. He remembered rushing to her apartment before her, fuming in anger. He grabbed the first thing that seemed to have some significance to her. In her array of memory cards, this one had to be the most important. She had marked it with the term "Cycle," while her other memory cards went unmarked.

Toying with the small memory card in his hand, Priest contemplated whether he should finally discover what was on it. He and Britain had grown far past the phase of not trusting each other. He was so sure of Britain that he would lay his life down for her. She had gained every ounce of his trust. However, the curiosity was burning within him.Eyeing the memory card,he shook his head, telling himself no before stuffing it back into the pocket of his suit.He tried his best to rid himself of the urge to discover what was embedded in the memory card. After spraying down his pulse points with Creed cologne, he exited their bedroom.

He traveled down the staircase of the home, landing on the lower level. He came in contact with the housekeeper who came through weekly to keep the home spotless. With a warm and inviting smile, he greeted her with a good morning before thanking her for her services.The aroma of breakfast being prepared filled the lower level of the home. It took Priest some time to get used to the feeling of being catered to. Catarina provided full service around the clock. Britain called for extra reinforcements while she was gone because she knew Priest could become so distracted with business that he forgot about the simple things.

Upon entering the kitchen, he was greeted with a beaming smile from their chef. He and the chef offered greetings to each other before he was given a full plate of steak and eggs.

As always, Priest prayed over his food before indulging in it. As much as he tried to stay away from the thought, his mind instantly wandered back to the memory card that remained in his pocket. He sat his utensils down for a brief moment. Deciding to feed into his curiosity, he rose from his seat at the table, leaving the breakfast he barely touched behind. He navigated to Britain's study, where her iMac desktop computer was stationed.

Extracting the memory card from his pocket, he toyed with it in his hand for a moment longer, debating whether he should overstep.What would Britain do?crossed his mind a few times, and he was sure she would have jumped the gun to find out what was on the memory card. That was in Britain's character. She was a reporter after all.

Priest let out a heavy sigh as his dark orbs peered down at the memory card. He made his way around the tempered glass desk, taking a seat in her chair. He opened the desktop, typing in the password she utilized for practically everything. He gained access to the computer with ease before he inserted the card into the card reader she had docked in the USB port.

Leaning back in the seat, he nervously drummed his fingers against the glass of the desk, waiting for the card to upload onto the computer. He watched as an array of photos filled a grid on the screen, totaling to about 140 pictures and videos.

She always told Priest she was never photogenic, but it seemed as though she had been in her past. Something must have made her change between then and now. She seemed to have captured so many memories and stored them on the memory card. Priest had long forgotten about even taking it. It honestly baffled him how she never even noticed it was missing in the first place. She wasn't one who liked revisiting the past, so the fact that it was taken went right over her head.

He hovered the cursor over the first photo before clicking on it. The photo captured Britain with a closed smile, masking her face as she rested her head on the shoulder of a male. Priest couldn't connect who exactly the guy was since the photo was angled to simply catch the guy's shoulder and a bit of his neck. It cut off before it could showcase the man's face. From the look of the picture, Priest assumed it was her ex-boyfriend.

He went on to the next photo. Once again, it was a photo of Britain. She was all smiles as she rested her head on her ex-boyfriend's chest. Just like the last time, his face never came into the frame of the shot, leaving his appearance a mystery. Over the course of Britain and Priest's relationship, Britain never delved into the depths of her relationship with her ex. He couldn't blame her since he didn't really go into great detail about his own relationship with Paula. What she did tell Priest, though,rubbed him the wrong way. Britain was a sweetheart, and the things her ex put her through just didn't seem warranted. It was evident that she was really in love with him, but sadly, it wasn't reciprocated.

Clicking the next thumbnail, he was met with a video. He watched as the camera panned around a bedroom set up. It wasn't similar to Britain's apartment back in New York, so Priest was oblivious to the location of the video. In the frame was her ex as he stood with his back facing the camera. Before him was an array of gifts that were nicely wrapped and ready for him to tear into. "Happy one year anniversary, Cam," Britain's sweet voice sounded off from behind the camera. "I really hope you like everything. Well, you better like everything because your life depends on it," she jokingly teased before letting some laughter ease out of her.

Priest could hear him in the midst of the video as he went on to open the gifts she had gotten him for their anniversary. It was almost as if Britain made sure to never catch his face in the camera, like it was second nature. She drifted the view of the camera down as she made her way toward him to catch a close up of all the gifts she got him. "You like them?" she asked with excitement exuding out of her words.

"Of course, baby," he responded to Britain as he admired the sneakers she had gifted him.

"Great! Now where's my gift?" she jokingly rushed him.

In response to her question, the video caught the sigh Cam let out. "Look, I didn't have time to actually get you any gifts, but this should make up for it." Priest watched as Cam sat four thick stacks of money onto Britain's lap.

She angled the camera down to the money before drifting it back up to him, making sure not to catch his face in the shot. "Cameron, what the fuck? This is not a gift," Priest heard Britain complain in disappointment before the video abruptly cut off.

Priest couldn't help but be amused by the fact that Britain was indeed the same. Priest knew if he tried his hand at pulling what Cameron had, Britain would’ve given him the same reaction. She appreciated effort and thought more than money, especially after she had dedicated so much to getting him gifts that he actually wanted.

Priest went on to click through the photos. The majority consisted of Britain in all smiles as she captured moments from various dates she had with Cameron or the quality time they shared with each other. In all the photos Priest had seen thus far, he never caught sight of Cameron's face, which was odd. He didn't want to compare the relationship he shared with Britain to what she had with her ex, but it was definitely different. With Priest, Britain couldn't keep the camera off him, even while he slept. With Cameron, it was like she was hiding who he was.

After a multitude of pictures, Priest landed on yet another video. This time, the video didn't showcase much aside from a vase that decorated the table the camera rested on. "Why are you even tripping out so bad? What I have going on with my phone shouldn't concern you, Britain," the video began, causing Priest to furrow his thick brows.

"Are you serious?! Are you really trying to deflect the fact you fucked this bitch by saying I shouldn't have gone through your phone?!" Britain's voice sounded shattered and broken as the video played.

Priest could hear Cameron loudly smack his lips. "‘Cause it's facts. You shouldn't be going through my shit because I don't go through yours," he argued.