Page 48 of Between Passion and Revenge, Part One (The Griot Chronicles #1)

Right the wrongs? How does one make participating in human trafficking right?

My father winces, and I realize I’ve said the last part out loud.

His next words turn my anger into mist.

“They will kill everything you love to keep you in line.”

Silence, thick and deadly, spans the space between us. It’s almost hard to breathe.

“They?”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he straightens his cuffs, composes himself like he didn’t just pop me in the mouth or we haven’t been yelling at each other for the last five minutes.

“Now you’re going to go back in there and keep your head down. Pretend that you’re open to the idea of a merger with the De Luca family.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “A merger? Fuck, Dad.”

“Storm,” he says, his tone a slice in the air. “Do you understand?”

I don’t answer.

Not right away.

But eventually, I nod…deciding then and there that this shit ends now.

Before it’s too late.

Shae curls up in my arms as we lay sideways on the sofa with Selena playing in the background. An empty pizza box and two cans of Coke cover part of the coffee table, and I’m as content as I can reasonably expect, I think.

The film was her choice, despite her having seen it a hundred times, and I have to admit it’s cute when she shouts out lines and tries to sing along to the songs. The way she rocked her hips when Como la Flor came on was both cute and hot.

But now as the film takes a shift when Selena and Chris elope, I find myself sinking into my feelings.

Specifically, I find myself sinking into thoughts of my dad and the bullshit he spewed at the club today.

“Storm, will you tell me what’s wrong?” Shae asks softly, shifting to look behind her to catch my gaze. She frowns when she sees my face.

“Hey,” I say, keeping my tone soft. Soft. It’s crazy how soft I can be for her. “Everything is fine, Sweetness.”

I kiss her gently, a slight press of my lips to hers. She tastes like honey and heaven.

When I pull back from the kiss, I reposition her to face the screen.

“Keep watching your movie,” I murmur, bringing my lips close enough to ghost a kiss over the delicate curve of her ear.

She hums, and I tighten my arms around her again.

A few minutes pass before she says, “Would you tell me what’s going on? If you were stressed or worried about something?”

My initial gut reaction? No.No, I wouldn’t bring any of the dark shit that’s swirling around me around her.

But instead, I say, “You and I are locked in, baby.”

She’s silent again, still facing the screen, but her body stiffens more and more with each second.

Beep.

My cell phone lights up from where it rests face-down on the glass coffee table.

We both ignore the sound, and I pull Shae closer, sliding my hand under the big shirt she threw on as soon as she got to my apartment.

“Why are you stressing?” I ask her. It’s weird as fuck that I’m so tuned in to her—that I want to make sure everything in her life is comfortable and safe.

She opens her mouth to reply, but another beep has her frowning and leaning over to grab my phone.

“You should check that,” she says, her voice clipped. She hands it to me without looking at the screen.

I take the device from her, frustrated—not at her, but at the fact that people keep fucking bothering me.

That frustration morphs into a sickly annoyance.

It’s Bambi.

I guess I should have expected her to reach out, especially after the fuckery our parents tried to pull at the brunch this morning. But instead of the patience I usually have with her, I’m fucking angry.

I understand now why you’re keeping your distance. But I miss you, and you blowing me off hurts.

I’m not a robot. I have feelings and you are—were—my best friend. And I hate pretending that everything that happened between us was all a lie.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I slide the messages away, focusing on Shae’s flesh beneath my palm to keep from raging out. Bambi and I have been friends forever, yes, but the truth is I should have set better boundaries with her.

I guess I just felt so guilty after what she suffered with Rainn that I couldn’t help but allow her to attach to me. Before Shae, I guess I saw her attention as harmless. But now?

I focus back on Shae. “What do you need, baby?”

She’s stiff and cold in my arms, as if she’s barely containing hostility.

“I’m Gucci,” she bites out.

“Shae.”

She remains frozen for several seconds before her shoulders drop and she sits up.

“Storm, I know things are new between us, and I have no right to expect you to be open with me?—”

“You have every fucking right, Shae,” I grind out. My abdominal muscles activate when I crunch my body up to sit straight. Facing her, I place my hand behind her neck, bringing her face close to mine.

“I know you’re mine. But do you know I’m yours? You own me, Shae Olivya Rivers.”

She shakes her head and slides her eyes closed.

“Storm,” she starts, but when she shifts on the sofa, her knee accidentally bumps the pizza box, which causes both of our half-full Coke cans to spill all over the glass.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry!” She jumps up, and I do the same, swiping my phone off the table and tossing it on the couch cushion.

“I-I’ll clean it,” she stutters, righting the overturned Coke cans and pizza box.

“It’s okay, Shae,” I say, already backing into the kitchen. “I’ll grab some paper towels.”

The “okay” she whispers is faint. Confused.

In the kitchen, I open a new roll of Bounty and toss the plastic wrapper in the trash. Grabbing a small disposable shopping bag, I make my way back into the living room….

…only to stop short when I catch sight of a tight-lipped Shae standing in the middle of the living room with my phone in one trembling hand.

“Shae?” I ask, immediately concerned. “What’s going on, baby?”

She chuckles, and it’s a deep, you-got-me-fucked-up sound.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Her voice is strong, but there’s an edge to it.

I exhale into a groan. “Shae, I’ve had a long day, and all I want is to hold you and go to sleep with your taste on my tongue. Can we do that, baby?”

She sucks her teeth and walks closer to me.

“Boy, please .” She shoves my phone into my chest.

I look down, pressing the side button to light up the screen. Everything becomes clear now—the message on the screen is damning as fuck.

Guess I just miss how things used to be. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to her.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Shae!” I shout, resisting the urge to slam the cell into a million pieces. Anger and frustration—at Bambi, at my-fucking-self—have me instantly wanting to destroy shit.

I’m about to boil over, and there’s no safe place for me to set my rage.

I turn almost in a full circle to try to find Shae, and when a soft thud comes from the direction of my bedroom, I nearly sprint there.

“What the fuck are you doing, Shae?” She shoves one leg into her soft sweatpants as if they’ve offended her, and she jumps to get the fabric over her ample ass.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Storm? I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

I snap. That’s the only way to describe it. Because one moment I’m standing in the doorway to my room, the next I have her back pulled to my chest and I’m almost literally pinning her to my body to prevent her from leaving.

Let her go, Storm. If she wants to leave, let her go.

My higher self knows what to do, but my heart? My soul?

“Stop running. Let’s talk.” I damn near faceplant into the curls at the base of her neck in an attempt to calm my racing heart.

Everything starts to spin, and the damn messages on my phone are the reason why.

“I-I’m not running from anything, Storm,” she says, and she sounds stronger than I do. Stronger than I feel.

“Yes, you are, Sweetness,” I reply, still keeping my face close to her neck. The fine shiver that goes up her spine has me smiling, and I tangle my fingers into the nest of curls bound low on her head. “You’re running from me, and it’s time you stopped. Let’s work this shit out.”

Her hands go to my wrists, and for a breath, I hope she’ll caress the skin over my raging pulse.

Instead, she wrenches my arms away and spins to shove me back a step.

“I won’t let you play me.”

Her bottom lip trembles, but she seems livid.

She swipes her crossbody bag off the chair in the corner, but when she tries to move past me, I grab her by her upper arm.

I’ve never been more conscious of my strength and need not to hurt someone else.

“Let me go, ch-cheater!” she snaps, her face hard.

It’s the sight of the tears lining her lower lids that nearly brings me to my fucking knees.

Fix this.

“No,” I say, my tone calm and steady despite the fact I want to bind her to me in every single way possible. “I’m not cheating. I didn’t cheat. Goddamn it, Shae.”

“Storm. Sandoval.”

“Stop trying to leave every time shit gets hard,” I say, pulling her back into me so that her nipples press against my chest. “We can’t have a relationship if you can’t trust me.”

She laughs in my face, and I take it. “Storm, you really think I’m supposed to trust you?”

Those words. They land like a bomb between us.

“Yes,” I grind out. “Yes, you’re supposed to trust me. You’re supposed to ask questions of me when you’re scared instead of running off into the moon.”

She drops her bag to the floor with a loud thunk.

“All right, then,” she says with a huff. “Explain what your sneaky link is talking about.”

She sinks onto the bed, damn near vibrating with her emotions.

I take in the sigh, completely gone for this girl.

Like, capital G Gone for Shae Rivers. Because my heart rate still hasn’t come down from her saying she’s going to walk out the door, and never in my life have I ever felt so out of control.

So overwhelmed.

I want to fall to her feet simply because it feels like that’s where I’m supposed to be—worshipping at the altar of her heart, body, and soul.

I sink to my knees, honoring the instinct.

“Shae, there’s nothing happening between me and Bambi. I’ve known her forever and when she was younger, she…had a thing with my brother, Rainn.”