Page 24 of The Love of Priest 2

Priest’s brow furrowed. The conversation had shifted from Britain chewing Frankie out to her mellowing her tone.Britain met Priest's gaze. She responded to his questioning look with a simple shrug, letting him know that she too had no idea what the hell Frankie wanted.

"I know that, but really, Demings, you're the only one who can get this type of information."

Hearing Frankie's response told Britain everything she was trying to achieve. "This better not be about?—"

"But it is," she interrupted Britain. "He's the only one who hasn't spoken about it. Everyone has been questioned or spoken to reporters but him," Frankie spilled out hastily.

Britain’s eyes shifted back onto Priest who had returned his attention to his phone, letting Britain have her conversation with Frankie.

Britain wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what Frankie was trying to make her do.

She wanted an inside tip from Priest about what happened to Leila on the steps of City Hall.

He had given the media nothing they could actually manipulate.

With Hernandez handling the case, Priest had been ultimately ruled out of questioning or any speculation. It was almost as if he wasn't even there, but everyone knew he was.

"Goodbye, Frankie," Britain told her on the verge of ending the call.

"C'mon, Britain!" Frankie squealed in a desperate plea, hoping Britain wouldn't hang up. "You know I'm right, and if you could get him to just say something about Leila, you could have your job back?—"

"I don't want my job back, Frankie! Especially if you’re asking me to coerce information—" Britain snapped.

"Woah! No one said anything about coercing information, Demings. He trusts you," Frankie replied.

"Again," Britain breathed out. "Goodbye, Frankie, and expect to hear from my lawyer," she said before ending the call.

Britain tossed her phone on the bed before folding her arms across her chest in frustration.

Priest too tossed his phone on the bed, indicating that she had his attention.

He called her over to the loveseat where he was seated and pulled her down on his lap, hoping to ease her stirring emotions after the conversation she just had with Frankie.

"I'm proud of you," he told her before placing a light kiss on her cheek.

Britain sighed as she felt her body ease. "Thank you," she mumbled.

"Y'know, I can have my lawyer look into that for you. No expense to you at all,” he offered.

Britain eyed him for a moment. She was thinking about taking him up on the offer, but she shook her head. "Thank you, but no worries. I'll just have my parents’ lawyer look into it," she assured.

She breathed out a deep breath once she noticed that Priest really didn't take well to her declining his offer.

"I appreciate the offer, Priest. I really do, but I have to do this on my own," she explained to him.

"If I show up with your lawyer, she will never take me seriously.

I want her to know I'm not just useful because I'm with you. "

"Why do you have to prove that to her? You knew you had talent before me, and even after me, your talent will still be there.”

"True, but that isn't the point. I can't have your help with everything, P."

Priest screwed up his face. "And why not?"

"Because things don't come easy for me, Priest. I'm grateful that you're around to be so generous, but there are just some things I have to do without your help." Her hands cupped his face, steering his head up so they could lock eyes.

"Alright then," he agreed, deciding not to harp on the issue. "What was she asking of you?" he questioned, referring to Frankie's request.

Britain cleared her throat. Her orbs parted from his and focused on the diamond drenched jewelry that laced his neck.

She toyed with the pendant that was dedicated to Jamari, feeling the bumps and grooves of each diamond on the pads of her fingers.

"She wanted me to get your take on what happened to Leila," she mumbled.

Priest smacked his lips. His plan had worked, but like any other successful plan, it didn't have everyone sold.

Prosecutor Hernandez was being really discreet about who he had in custody for Leila's death.

The two names had yet to make their rounds on the news stations and in the papers, but in the streets, everyone thought Priest was the one behind it.

Priest hadn't been around, and some people were wondering why he had yet to speak.

Kaymen thought it would be a good idea to extend some condolences to Leila's husband, but Priest decided against it.

The media was going to paint whatever picture they wanted to.

He wasn't about to go the extra mile to show everyone he didn't have a part in what happened.

He was playing the game like he'd always played it: by remaining silent.

"If it's mandatory for your career, then I'll speak up, but only if it's written and published by you. Nobody else," Priest said and shrugged his shoulders.

If Britain could have the one up on Frankie, he was going to offer his assistance.

He wasn't too fond of Frankie taking Britain as some low-grade writer. Britain was passionate about what she did, and there weren’t many people in her field who were like her.

She wasn't all about what she thought everyone else would like to hear or read about.

She wrote things because she meant them or because they touched her.

Priest really respected her for that. Even before their romantic relationship, she never made it seem as though she was out to get him for her own benefit.

She was actually invested and passionate about every little detail he told her.

"I couldn't ask that of you," she declined with a shake of her head. "Even though you're offering, it wouldn't sit right with me to put that out. It's not something I can really connect to. No disrespect, but it has no purpose for me," she respectfully declined.

Priest leaned back in his seat, gazing at Britain with full adoration in his dark orbs.

She was truly as real as they came. Someone else would have jumped at the opportunity to have his take on what happened that day.

"I respect you for that," he praised her, causing Britain to wave him off.

"Deadass, though. You really never cease to amaze me.

You really do this shit for you and your better judgment.

I admire that," he continued to speak highly of her.

Britain smiled. It felt nice to finally get some recognition. "Thank you," she expressed her gratitude.

Priest reached up and caressed her face lightly as a small smile etched his face. "I always knew you were passionate.”

"In everything I do. And so are you," she pointed out.

"I watch you a lot, and I take notes. Your story is the first one I've actually elaborated on. You deserve praise.” Britain was never not working on Priest's story.

“Humans of New York” was her life and what she would be using to continue her career, despite Frankie's future efforts to ruin her.

She wanted her independent debut to have substance. He was all the substance she needed.

Priest chuckled. "We make one hell of a dream team." He lifted his hand for a high five, which she granted.

"Facts," she agreed.

SAPPHIRE NIGHTCLUB

HARLEM, NEW YORK

Jazzy slouched in her seat as the loud chatter within the locker room filled her ears.

As much as she boasted about no longer having to show up to the club, she truly couldn’t avoid it.

The penthouse had been awfully quiet, more quiet than usual, and it was killing her internally.

Priest had been so disconnected lately, and the only person he really gave the time of day was Britain.

Jazzy wasn't taking it personal in any type of way.

Britain was new to Priest's lifestyle, so he had to be extra attentive to her so she would run off to the hills like any other woman in her position would have.

At home, it seemed like there was an unspoken rule to ask Priest. It was just far too tense at the moment, and Jazzy needed a getaway, even if it meant she had to deal with a funky locker room and Taylor going on and on about J'Ru's trifling ways.

"Taylor, what did you really expect? Why would he buy the cow if he's getting the milk for free?" Jazzy screwed up her face at Taylor as if she was missing a few screws.

She snapped around to face Jazzy. With one lash on and the other lash extension pinched tightly between her fingertips, drying from the light layer of glue that had been applied, she scoffed. "You're not helping, Jazzlyn. And what the fuck does that even mean?"

Jazzy smacked her lips as she sat her phone down.

"Bitch, you gave him pussy. You cooked, cleaned, and nursed him back to health, and not once have you ever asked for a title.

You made it too easy for him," she explained to her.

She honestly couldn't understand how women, especially as beautiful as Taylor, got hung up on one measly guy.

Jazzy learned at a very young age that you could never get all you want from just one man, which was why God blessed the world with so many.

Taylor rolled her eyes. She wanted to rebut, but she knew Jazzy was right.

J'Ru was a man. His moves of selfishness and lack of commitment were really in his nature.

He got it how he lived, and if Taylor was willing to do it all without any ounce of commitment or promise, then so be it.

"Can you blame me?" she groaned before returning to the mirror to put on the last lash.

"He's just so fucking… ugh, I can't explain it. "