Page 2

There he was, sitting at a table with his head down.

Assuming he was looking at his phone, Bria took a contemplative look at him.

He was nothing like she imagined. In fact, he was the complete opposite of the image she had created in her mind.

His toasted brown eyes peeled away from the phone and landed on her.

Palpitations, labored breathing, and dancing butterflies in her belly were all in attendance of this silent exchange.

Bria couldn’t read his face at all. It was impassive but danger flickered in his peepers.

She should’ve been alarmed but instead, she was interested in what lied behind those irises of his.

Bria resumed her stride toward the table and approached it slowly. The hostess sat the menu down on the table then pulled out her chair. Bria was so engrossed in her silent analyzing of her beau that she didn’t realize the woman was waiting for her to take a seat.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She chuckled nervously, sitting down.

“Your waiter will be with you soon. Enjoy.”

Bria almost hated to see her go. She didn’t want to be alone with him while he stared a hole into her face.

His eye contact was fierce. It made her sit up straight, hoping he collected a good reading on her.

He reached his hand over the table. It was manly and covered with a tattoo that read Crown .

“Lo,” he said with a voice filled with all the masculinity in the world.

Carefully, she placed her hand inside his and shook it. “Bria.”

Lo withdrew his faster than she would have liked and leaned back in his seat.

Again, his mysterious gaze went back to her, making her shift in her chair.

His fade was sharply cut and adorned with velvety waves.

Thick brows postured over his eyes that were lined with dense lashes.

Lo’s copper skin emulated the glow of the sun.

His full beard had length and was groomed to perfection.

Everything about her soon-to-be-husband was beautiful to Bria.

“So, um…” She cleared her throat. “Is Lo your real name or…”

“Kylo.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “So, you're an underboss in Noir Mob?”

“Yeah.”

A subtle smile settled on her brown lips.

She had hit the lottery in the draft for The Mob.

Bria assumed Douglas had blown smoke up her ass, but he’d finally came through.

Bria wouldn’t have to suffer with an associate or an errand boy as Cali like to put it.

She was with a boss who possessed an aura of authority.

“So, um… this marriage. Are there things you expect from me?”

“Yeah.”

“Like what?”

Angling his head, he answered, “I expect you to listen to me.”

“Listen to you?” she repeated in a higher octave. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

His one-worded answers had started annoying her, but she remained poised.

“So, you want a yes-girl?”

“No, I want a wife who listens to me. You think you can handle that, or no?”

Bria gulped back the words she desperately wanted to spew.

If she had the right, she would’ve told him that she listened to no one.

She was a woman who had earned the stripes to live life on her own accord.

Being ruled by a man just because he was her husband was something that almost made her gag.

Bria wasn’t built for it but would suppress her rant for the sake of her father.

“Sure,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

Lo leaned forward, swarming her with the aquatic notes of his cologne.

“You wanna hear the rules?”

Bria sat back in her seat, taken aback by his gall. “So, I have to listen to you and follow rules? Am I in elementary school?”

“No, you in my school. Consider me your principal now.”

Bria’s lips parted, ready to retort but his declaration had her speechless. Who the hell was this man? Why was he so comfortable speaking to her in this dominant manner? Most of all, why hadn’t she gotten up from the table and stormed off?

“Now my rules are simple,” he began. “Always answer when I call and respond to my text messages within five minutes. Don’t let no other man touch you and let me know where you are at all times.”

Bria’s mouth gaped, not believing he had just given her a list of rules to be his wife .

“Yeah, this isn’t going to work for me,” she said more to herself.

“Why not?” he had the nerve to ask.

“Because I’m not a kid. I don't need to call and check in with you or respond to your text messages within thirty seconds.”

“Five minutes,” he corrected her.

“It doesn’t matter. That’s a lot and I’m too independent to follow your rules.”

“Independent but living at home with your parents? Yeah, a’ight.” He chuckled.

Bria didn’t appreciate what he thought was a dig toward her. “Yes, I live at home because my parents are ol’ school. They believe I should be at home until they give me to my husband. I’m still a grown woman who does what I want and will continue to do such.”

Lo smiled, showing off his gold bottom grill. She loathed how this allurement for him had formed without her consent.

“I think we will have a lot of fun together, Bria.”

“Not with your attitude, we won’t.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” He reclined with his intense eye contact focused on her. “You dance?”

She nodded.

“Are you a midnight ballerina or a real dancer?”

Bria stared at him until she burst into a fit of laughter. There was a semblance of a smile on his lips. It wasn’t a full one but a small glimpse of a beam.

“It took me a minute to get what you were saying. I never heard of a midnight ballerina before.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her.

“Oh, well, no I’m not a stripper. I’m a real ballet dancer.”

Stroking his beard, he tipped his head as if he was adding her words to his mental storage bin.

“Let me see your phone.”

Reluctantly, Bria passed him her phone and watched him tap on the screen. His phone suddenly vibrated on the table before he silenced it. After another five minutes of tapping, he passed the phone back to her. Lifting his left arm, Lo glanced at his watch.

“I got some where to be so I’ma get out of here.” He rose from his seat. “Lunch on me. See you at the altar, baby.”

And just like that, Lo was gone. Remnants of his cologne lingered in the atmosphere, prompting Bria’s intrigue of him to increase.

She sat, whirling from her encounter with Lo.

He was going to be something she couldn’t explain; that she could tell.

His cool demeanor stirred something deep in her being.

He seemed like a no-nonsense type of man that was going to give her the blues.

Bria should’ve been calling her father to opt out of the setup. She should’ve professed how this man had come to her with a set of rules for her to follow. She didn’t like it but again, this wasn’t about her. It was about the family, and she unfortunately had to take one for the team.

Hopefully, this won’t be something I regret.