Page 14 of Surrender Your Heart (Surrender #2)

I was almost done with my makeup when my phone buzzed against the marble counter.

“Bitch.

It’s giving soft life!”

Tyrae’s voice filled the screen before her face even fully loaded.

I laughed, holding the phone at an angle to show the moonlight bouncing off the water outside the window.

“It’s giving private island realness.

This shit don’t even feel real.”

“And it better not be just vibes and vacation dick.

You know I’m nosy.

What’s the tea?”

I paused, brushing highlight on my cheekbone, trying not to smirk.

“It’s… more than I expected.

He different.

Softer. More intentional. We've been talking, Ty, like last time, but deeper. Shit feels way deeper. And the sex? Lord.”

She clutched her chest.

“I already know.

I can see it in your eyes.

Bitch, pop a Plan B.”

Tyrae went on to give me quick updates on business before a knock came at the bedroom door.

“Ten minutes, baby.”

“Mmhmm,”

I called back, slipping on my heels.

“Ty, I’ll text you.”

I pressed “end”

on the call and reached for my couch, giving myself one last look.

I wore a fire-red, body-hugging maxi with a high slit and crisscross open back that made the ocean breeze feel like foreplay against my skin.

I met Legend downstairs in the foyer, where the scent of his cologne hit before I even saw him.

That rich, woody, masculine scent that made my thighs press together on reflex.

He stood there in a silk short-sleeved hunter green button-down, unbuttoned just enough to tease his tattooed chest, black tailored pants, and Cuban links that glinted under the low lights.

He looked so damn fine, I forgot how to breathe for a second.

“You ready?”

he asked, eyes running the full length of me like he was dressing me down with a look alone.

“Mhmm.”

I stepped closer, and he placed his hand low on my back as we headed out.

The ride to the beachside dinner was smooth, luxurious, and quiet at first.

Just the hum of the engine and soft R&B playing low.

But then Legend shifted his body to face me slightly.

“Let me ask you something.”

“Okay…”

He stared at me for a beat before speaking, voice low.

“What was your upbringing like? I’m curious as to where the survival mode came from within a beautiful soul.”

I blinked.

Surprised.

“I guess… I never had the luxury of peace,”

I said slowly.

“I grew up bouncing around.

My mom wasn’t stable at all.

She couldn’t keep a job, a place, or anything. So I was passed off. Aunties, cousins, and sometimes family friends. Then, eventually, my grandmother... before she passed.”

He nodded, jaw tight but expression open.

“I used to fight a lot.

Not just fists—like, fight to keep my stuff, fight to be heard.

Fight to exist. I never knew when shit was gonna switch up. So I stayed ready.”

Legend was quiet for a moment.

“That explains how you move.”

I looked at him.

“How I move?”

“You don’t just trust easily.

You peep everything.

You protect your peace like it’s all you got.”

“Because it is,”

I admitted, breath hitching.

“Even in relationships.

I hold tight, but I don’t always open up.

And when I finally do, it’s like… either they run, or they try to use it.”

His hand reached across the space between us and landed on my thigh.

That subtle grip.

That grounding touch.

“Whoever betrayed your trust and mistreated your heart is a coward and weak as fuck,”

he said simply.

“A real one will honor it.

All of it.

Not just the pretty parts.”

I stared at him, that ache in my chest expanding.

“I want real love,”

I whispered.

“I deserve it.

Everybody does.”

He didn’t respond right away.

But his thumb rubbed slow, rhythmic circles on my thigh, and the silence felt safe, not heavy.

“You’ll get it, sweetheart,”

he finally said, his tone unreadable but his eyes soft.

Maybe underneath all the success and new boss bitch energy, I was still in survival mode.

Or maybe… I was finally learning how to just be.

We pulled up to a beachside dinner setup that looked like a damn movie set.

Tiki torches.

A private chef was already plating appetizers.

The dinner setup was nothing short of insane.

A long wooden table stretched across a custom platform built directly on the beach.

A cream linen canopy floated above it, draped with sheer white curtains that billowed like something out of a music video.

Tiki torches lined the sides and glowed against the twilight, while candles flickered in gold lanterns placed delicately down the center of the table beside massive floral arrangements—white roses, calla lilies, and fresh greenery.

And the spread? My God…

There were oysters, wagyu sliders, honey-drizzled lamb lollipops, charred lobster tails, seared scallops over risotto, truffle mac and cheese, grilled artichoke hearts, imported wines, and champagne bottles I’d only seen in music videos.

Some of the labels didn’t even have names, just wax seals and numbers.

Legend had my chair pulled out before I even blinked.

“Tonight’s special,”

he said against my ear as I sat.

“Pay attention.”

My brows lifted. “Noted.”

The other dinner guests started to arrive.

Two older white men in suits with unbothered swag, one black woman around my age in a bright green Balenciaga gown, long faux locs, and French tips.

She was laughing at something the guy beside her said—a brown-skinned man with gold-rimmed glasses and a Cartier link thick enough to weigh his neck down.

Legend sat at the head.

Of course.

The server immediately poured us glasses of champagne as another brought a small tray of amuse bouche—bite-sized flaky pastry filled with some kind of creamy crab and herb mixture.

It melted the second it touched my tongue.

“You good, baby?”

Legend asked, voice low beside me.

“Yes.”

I took a slow sip of the champagne.

“Good is an understatement.”

He smirked, then nodded once toward the group.

“Enjoy dinner, everyone.”

The table was already buzzing with energy—conversations about tech mergers, international property investments, influencer campaigns, and private equity flips.

One guy mentioned just closing on a $4 million island retreat off the coast of Belize.

Another woman was talking about using AI to curate one-on-one luxury travel itineraries for elite clients. I listened. I chimed in. I wasn’t just arm candy.

When the woman beside me, Paris, introduced herself and asked what I did, I proudly shared about my brand and how I was changing black skincare one day at a time.

“Love that,”

she said, eyes sparkling.

“We need more Black women in this space owning the narrative.”

“Exactly.”

Legend was quiet for a moment, swirling the champagne in his glass like he was watching it for clues.

Then, he cleared his throat, smooth and low.

“I appreciate y’all pulling up tonight,”

he began.

The table went still.

“This isn’t one of my usual pitches.

Tonight ain’t about stocks or property.

It’s about building something different. Something timeless, bold, and disruptive.”

Everyone leaned in.

I looked up, curious.

Legend didn’t even blink as he dropped the bomb.

“With your help in securing the right clientele, I’m planning on launching a luxury escort concierge.”

The silence that followed felt electric.

He smirked, slow and calculated, letting it breathe before continuing.

“I’m talking high-end.

Sophisticated.

Class. Not no back-page, cheap shit. I’m curating an experience for elite clients only. Background checks, six-figure retainers, and a waitlist you can’t buy your way onto.”

My mouth parted slightly, but I didn’t speak.

Not yet.

He went on, locking eyes with the table.

“I want to redefine intimacy.

Make it opulent.

Discreet. Legal. Luxurious. But more importantly…”

he turned to me, eyes full of fire.

“I want it built with this woman.

My woman.”

Wait… what?

Build me with?

Hold on… did he just call me his woman?

My eyes widened just as half the table turned to look at me.

“Honey has the eye.

The branding skills.

The understanding of image, presence, and storytelling. And she’s my muse. I trust her to shape the feel of the entire brand.”

“You’re serious?”

I asked, voice low.

He nodded once.

“Dead ass.”

Paris leaned back, smiling like she’d just witnessed a plot twist in a movie.

“This is genius,”

said the guy across the table.

“It’s like a fantasy agency but with class.”

“Exactly,”

Legend confirmed.

“We’d be pairing elite women and men with high-powered clients who don’t just want sex.

They want conversation.

Company. Chemistry. Confidence. Vetted, stunning, emotionally intelligent people who know how to play their role and look the part.”

“What about legality?”

one of the older men asked.

“We’d keep it clean,”

Legend said smoothly.

“This ain’t prostitution.

It’s companionship.

Public appearances. Private dinners. Travel. What happens beyond the contract is between two consenting adults off the clock.”

“And your role?”

Paris asked, brow lifted.

Legend smirked.

“I fund.

I protect.

I curate. I lead.”

“And her?”

she nodded toward me again.

“She designs the face,”

Legend said.

“The image.

The brand.

The story.”

I blinked, heart racing.

Mouth dry.

Pussy… wet. This man believed in me. Really believed in me. Enough to start a brand-new empire and say let’s run it up… together. He looked at me now, eyes softer.

“Say something.”

I took a breath.

“This… is a lot.”

“I know.”

“But it’s brilliant… and bold.

Also crazy.”

He grinned.

“So… you in?”

I stared at him for a beat.

Then lifted my champagne glass, a smile sweeping across my face.

“Let’s build the baddest luxury escort concierge the world’s ever seen.”

The table erupted in claps and approving murmurs.

Legend raised his glass too and clinked mine, that heat between us simmering beneath the surface.

This wasn’t just business. This was us—writing our names on a whole new lane. And just like that, I knew… Shit was about to get real between us.

As the table gradually melted back into conversations and laughs, I sat in silence, smiling politely but somewhere far away in my mind.

What the hell just happened? I’d walked into this dinner thinking I was just arm candy for the night.

That I’d smile, eat something delicious, drink something expensive, and maybe make a little impression on whatever big names Legend was bringing around.

But now? I was being handed the keys to something massive.

A whole new empire.

A luxury business concept that had already been brewing in his mind, but didn’t feel complete until he sat me beside him. Me. Back home, I was a business owner. A boss. But this? This wasn’t just another project. This was legacy. Luxury. Longevity. And he was trusting me to help shape it. I felt… seen. Empowered. And most definitely scared in the best way possible.

Legend was a different breed.

The rarest breed of man I’d ever met.

He moved through the world like he’d already conquered it, and maybe he had. But the way he looked at me… spoke to me… pulled me into spaces like I belonged there? He made me feel unstoppable and like I could be just as legendary as him. I bit my lip, overwhelmed by it all.

I needed to call Tyrae ASAP.

She was going to lose her shit when I told her.

I could already hear her screaming through the phone, asking if I’d lost my damn mind or if I was officially stepping into some Black Madam C.J. Walker meets Boss Bitch 3000 era. And honestly? I might be. This wasn’t just a cute trip. It was a pivot point. A shift. A door I didn’t even know was waiting for me to walk through.

“Too deep in that pretty head again.”

I jumped slightly as Legend’s voice brushed against the back of my neck, warm and teasing.

He kissed me there—soft and slow—and I closed my eyes, letting the heat of his lips anchor me back to the moment.

“Are you ready for dessert?”

he murmured against my skin, and I turned slightly to see him holding a small white plate, a decadent slice of tres leches cheesecake with caramel drizzle and toasted coconut.

It looked sinful but not half as sinful as the way he was staring at me.

That look.

That damn look. Like he could taste me without lifting a finger.

“I asked if you were ready for dessert,”

he repeated, holding a small forkful toward my mouth.

I parted my lips slowly, letting him feed it to me.

The moment the cheesecake touched my tongue, I moaned a little, but not because of the dessert.

Because of him. His fingers brushed my lower lip. His eyes didn’t move. And that smirk… I swallowed and licked the corner of my mouth.

“Fuck this cheesecake,”

I said softly, my voice dipped in heat and certainty.

He raised a brow.

“I want you.”