Page 23

Kenyatta woke up to the smell of coffee and something sweet wafting through the air. The sun had barely risen over Bayfront Heights, casting golden streaks over the waterfront. He blinked against the light streaming through the guest room’s oversized windows, his body tense like he hadn’t gotten a moment of real rest; because he hadn’t.

Last night, that kiss had shifted something.

Now, here he was, waking up in her house with his daughter still sleeping in another room. In her guest room, under her roof.

He’d laid there for a while, staring at the ceiling of the spacious guest suite, listening to the faint sound of waves from the bay just beyond the estate. The bed was too damn soft, the sheets smelled like lavender and money, and the whole house was too damn quiet.

Except it wasn’t; Krys was up. Moving. Avoiding. And he noticed.

Dragging a hand over his face, he exhaled deeply and rolled out of bed. If Krys was anything like him, she was probably going to act like nothing happened. He was aware that she was already good at that.

From the moment the sun cracked over the water, she had been everywhere except near him. He had heard the faint murmur of her voice behind closed doors, the soft hum of her office phone, her feet padding against marble floors as she moved between rooms.

He caught glimpses of her in passing, like a damn ghost in her own house. First disappearing into her office, door shut, voice hushed. Then ducking into her massive walk-in closet, rearranging things that didn’t need rearranging. At one point she was in the home gym, not even working out, just messing with her equipment.

The longest stretch has been in that damn bathroom. Skincare. Hair. Perfume. He swore she spent half the morning making sure she looked like she hadn’t spent the night caught up with him. And that’s what got him, because even with all that effort she still looked flawless. Like she woke up knowing she was the coldest woman in the room.

Fresh-faced but still put together, skin glowing, lips glossed, nails perfect, the subtle scent of vanilla and something expensive trailing behind her as always. She moved through her house like she ran a Fortune 500 company and a drug cartel at the same time. Which, for all he knew, she did. Through all that not once did she come looking for him.

Kenyatta finally made his way to the kitchen, giving himself something to do instead of sitting around feeling like a guest in her world.

Musa was already there, stretched out on the cool marble floor near the island, gnawing lazily on some fancy-ass chew toy that probably cost more than Kenyatta’s whole outfit.

The second Kenyatta stepped inside, Musa perked up, his cropped ears twitching. Just as quickly, he hopped up onto all fours, his massive body moving with unexpected agility for something his size.

Kenyatta shook his head. “Damn, big man. You act like I just got here.”

Musa huffed dramatically, his tail wagging slightly before he padded toward Kenyatta, bumping against his leg with enough force to remind him exactly who ran this house.

Kenyatta chuckled, giving the dog a rough pat. “A’ight, I see you. You missed me or somethin’?”

Musa responded with a sudden, playful lunge, shoving his huge head into Kenyatta’s stomach like a linebacker.

“Damn, bruh, chill!” Kenyatta laughed, stumbling back half a step.

Musa let out a deep woof, his tail moving now, tongue hanging slightly as if he found amusement in his own antics.

“Oh, so you hyper today?”

Musa dropped into a slight crouch, like he was contemplating a full-blown tackle.

“Nah, hell nah.” Kenyatta backed up, hand out. “We ain’t doing this.”

Musa huffed again, seemingly satisfied with himself before flopping right back down onto the floor like nothing happened.

Kenyatta shook his head, still smirking as he went back to the counter to pour his coffee. This damn dog had too much personality.

That’s when he heard the soft sound of her feet.

She walked in.

He wasn’t ready.

Musa perked up immediately, his tail thumping against the floor as his gaze followed Krys. She barely hesitated, moving with the same quiet dominance that ruled everything she touched. Barefoot but still commanding the space.

That oversized silk robe draped over her frame, the strap tied just tight enough to hint at everything underneath.

Unbothered. Untouchable.

Musa, always aware, let out a soft snort before flopping his head back down, clearly at ease. He already knew this wasn’t his business.

Krys barely looked Kenyatta’s way, heading straight for the espresso machine like he wasn’t even standing there. As if he was part of the furniture.

Oh, that’s how we playing it?

Kenyatta leaned against the counter, watching her. She was too controlled. Too intentional in not acknowledging him. That only made him wanna fuck with her.

Musa groaned softly, as if he could already sense where this was going.

“You sleep okay?” she asked, her voice casual as hell, eyes locked on her coffee.

Kenyatta exhaled, watching her instead of answering right away. “Yeah. You?”

She still didn’t look at him. “Mmhmm.” She took a slow sip, the kind that said this conversation was already over.

But he wasn’t letting it go.

Silence lingered. Thick. Not uncomfortable. Charged.

Musa rolled onto his side with a sigh, clearly over it.

Kenyatta had to. “You always be sneaking off into your office this early?”

She froze. Not visibly. Not in a way anyone else would have caught. But he caught it: her grip on the coffee mug. The slight pause in her breath.

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Musa’s head lifted slightly, his dark eyes flicking between them, reading the energy shift in the room.

She recovered quick, eyes flicking to Kenyatta, expression blank. “I run two businesses, Yatta. My mornings start early.”

Kenyatta hummed, tilting his head.

Unconvinced.

Musa yawned, smacking his lips before dropping his head back down onto his paws, his massive body stretched out like he was getting comfortable for the long game.

She was good at what she did, but she wasn’t as smooth as she thought. He knew what a deflection looked like.

She never let anyone in. And after last night, she was terrified that she already had.

But whatever. If she wanted to keep that door shut, that was her business.

For now.

**********

The tension between them still lingered as they drove through Midtown Skyline District, weaving through the luxury shopping plazas and upscale stores that lined the bustling streets.

Kaliyah sat in the backseat, wide-eyed at everything, her little hands gripping her seatbelt.

Krys had decided that today was about her. No business, no drama, just fun. That meant spoiling Kaliyah rotten.

At the first boutique, Krys let Kaliyah pick whatever she wanted. Designer sneakers? Done. A cute little bag? Absolutely. A handful of Barbie dolls with outfits to match? Of course!

Kaliyah’s eyes lit up with each gift, her excitement genuine, but the whole time, Kenyatta was watching.

At first, it was amusing watching his daughter warm up to this whole princess treatment like she’d been born for it. But as the day went on, something began to trouble him.

They sat outside a small patisserie, Kaliyah happily munching on a strawberry macaron while Krys sipped on a matcha latte.

Kenyatta wasn’t eating; he was thinking and watching Kaliyah smile up at Krys like she hung the damn moon, laughing at something Krys whispered conspiratorially in her ear.

It was cute and at the same time terrifying. If this was just a game, an act, and/or if Krys was going to eventually walk away, then his daughter was about to experience a kind of hurt that he couldn’t protect her from.

He exhaled slowly, turning to Krys, his voice lower than before. “Aye… listen. About all this…” He gestured slightly, keeping his voice casual. “You do know she’s a child, right?”

Krys blinked, caught off guard. “Obviously.”

“Nah.” Kenyatta shook his head. “I mean, she’s a kid. She believes shit. She’s already looking at you like you matter, and if this is just some temporary thing…I need you to chill.”

Krys stilled. Her heart did something stupid, something she immediately shut down. She knew exactly what he was saying. The issue this time was that this wasn’t a game anymore. Not to her. Not to him. Not to Kaliyah. Hell, Kaliyah wasn’t even aware that she had been part of a game. Innocent in all of this. So, she knew exactly what Kenyatta was getting at.

Krys let out a slow breath, then smiled at Kaliyah, brushing a hand over her hair.

“She’s fine, Yatta,” Krys said smoothly, but her voice had lost that teasing edge.

Kenyatta’s jaw flexed. “Yeah, well, I don’t want her getting too comfortable if—”

Krys cut him off. “If nothing else…” She turned to him, her voice soft, serious. “Kaliyah just gained a new auntie; that’s all. She got a new cousin in my niece Mia…and it’s all good. Okay?”

Kenyatta narrowed his eyes slightly, searching her face, trying to read her, trying to see if she was just talking shit or if she meant that.

His mind was a fucking mess. This whole situation…He was supposed to be playing a role, nothing more, nothing less.

But now his daughter was looking at Krys like she was family. Krys was talking like she wasn’t going anywhere. Now he had to figure out what the hell that meant.

Kaliyah had lost a lot of people in her little life. Not through death, but through disappointment. People, family, friends came and went, never truly committing to being in her life long-term. And Kenyatta himself was just now trying to be the consistent parent she needed.

So, what did it look like having Krys in the picture? Someone Kaliyah already adored and already claimed? What happened if it ended? What happened if Krys disappeared? Would Kaliyah just be another little girl hurt by the weight of people’s selfishness?

He couldn’t let that happen to his baby. Which meant he had to start asking himself the real question. Was he playing with fire? Or had he already jumped into the flames?

But her statement…

It settled something in him. He wanted to feel assured that Krys wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted to let himself believe that. And for the first time in years, having a feeling like that didn’t scare him.

It felt right.

**********

By the time they got back, Kaliyah barely stirred as Kenyatta carried her inside, tucking her under the covers in the guest suite.

Krys leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the way Kenyatta adjusted the blankets around her. His movements were careful, deliberate, protective.

She was falling deeper than she had ever planned to.

She knew it the second she whispered, “Goodnight, baby girl,” and Kaliyah mumbled sleepily back, “Goodnight, Auntie Krys.”

That should’ve stopped her in her tracks, made her pull back; but instead it made her feel like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Krys laid in her bed later that night, staring at the ceiling, legs tangled in the silk sheets, her mind nowhere near rest.

She liked him. And not just as a fake boyfriend or as an ally in this performance.

She liked him.

Kenyatta. The man. The father.

The way he moved. The way he protected. The way he took up space without demanding it. The way he looked at her like she was the first thing in a long time that surprised him.

She turned on her side, biting her lip, shaking her head at herself. “You done fucked around and caught real feelings, girl.”

She groaned into her pillow.

This was not the plan, but it was the reality; yet she didn’t regret it.