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The man gasped for air as Priest continued to restrict his airway. Unable to claw at Priest's leg since his hands were bound, Ale simply had no choice but to squirm. His fawn-colored skin tinted a crimson red as he slowly felt himself falling limp.

God answered his prayers when Priest lifted his foot in perfect timing. While he gasped for air, Priest lifted the machete above his head and brought it straight down through Ale’s chest. Blood clogged Ale's throat as his eyes bulged out of his head.

The spear headed barong machete pierced through the surface layer of skin, along with multiple layers underneath. Priest pressed down, applying more pressure and sending the blade straight through the entirety of his body. Crimson red blood erupted from the wound, and Priest marveled at it. Ale's life ended in a matter of seconds, his glazed eyeballs staring directly into Priest's.

"That was for Remy." Priest retracted the blade out of the body, the steel drenched with Ale’s blood, which formed a puddle on the cement ground underneath Priest. Terror and regret flashed in the eyes of the remaining two. They knew they were about to pay.

Trekking back to the table, Priest sat the blood-stained machete down. "Kaymen, J'Ru, y'all can handle that." He motioned his head toward the two remaining guys who weren't sure what their demise consisted of. Priest suavely began putting his jewelry back on, along with his jacket. Once he was set, he glanced at Ale’s lifeless body bleeding profusely on the ground.

"How you want shit cleaned up?" Kaymen asked.

"Furnace and have them clean up these floors too. I don't wanna see no signs of these niggas in here," Priest gave detailed disposal instructions. Kaymen and J'Ru okayed him with a nod of their heads. Priest navigated toward the elevator. Stepping inside, he pressed the buttons to bring him back up to ground level. Upon the doors gliding shut, the sound of multiple rounds being sprayed settled into his ears. A light chuckle filtrated out of him since he expected J'Ru and Kaymen to both knock the wind out of those niggas.

Exiting the building, Priest got into his car and traveled in the direction of his penthouse. The drive wasn't too long since traffic wasn't much of a pain. He silently thanked the man above for the emptiness that was now the front of his building. The reporters seemed to have gotten restless and impatient awaiting for him to come down, unaware that Priest had managed to escape their invasive presence earlier that morning. Parking his car alongside the rest of his vehicles, Priest got out and took the elevator straight up to his penthouse. He rolled his fingerprint against the scanner, granting him access without going through the security of the building.

The aroma of fresh-cut lemon and clean linen struck his nose. The smell was definitely inviting, and it caused a light smile to dance along Priest's face. It was Saturday, which meant Priest's penthouse had been thoroughly cleaned to his liking.

"Good day Mr. Justice," Ms. Paulette offered her warm and inviting smile to him while she sanitized the countertops.

Priest trekked his way into the kitchen, being mindful that she had just cleaned it from corner to corner. He embraced her in a nice hug, causing her to laugh since she had grown accustomed to Priest and his good treatment. "It’s been a while," Priest sighed.

Ms. Paulette was the cleaning lady Priest had hired after one of the fellow penthouse owners in his building referred her. At the time, he was doing more than he needed to with the late nights and early mornings, and Ms. Paulette kept his home spotless. As more time fell on his hands after he began enjoying the fruits of his labor, he had fewer areas in the penthouse to clean, not to mention he was barely there. Now that his trial had brought him back to the penthouse, Priest made it a requirement to have Ms. Paulette back. She was the only one he trusted to be in his home for long hours of the day and not touch a thing that belonged to him.

Ms. Paulette and Priest had also managed to build a bond over music. She was a soulful woman who could sing her ass off. Priest always loved hearing her sing so gracefully and effortlessly while tidying up the penthouse. He had a good ear for music, which ultimately resulted in Ms. Paulette telling him all about the passion she had for singing. They'd been close since.

Ms. Paulette nodded her head, agreeing with Priest. "It sure has. Since Jazzy's been gone, you don't seem to have the time to stay in this place."

"Eh," Priest shrugged. "You know how it is."

Ms. Paulette nodded her head. "I sure do know how it is. You make sure you stay out of trouble, Priest." She gave him a warning eye.

Priest chuckled while nodding his head. "You have my word," he asserted with his right hand rested on his heart as a promising smile graced his face. "I only came in to clean up a little bit. It was nice seeing you, Ms. Paulette."

"Nice seeing you too, Priest,” she replied.

Priest was sure he had taken up the majority of the time he had appointed Britain to get dressed. J’Ru was accustomed to Priest’s tendency to be late, but he had been on a nice streak of being on time when it came to Britain. Before getting into the shower, he sent her a text.

Priest: Cool if I take another 40 mins? I got caught in something. My apologies.

Moments later, his phone chimed with a text back.

Britain: Take your time. I’ll be waiting.

Priest was grateful that she was understanding.

Priest: That’s real. I appreciate it. He replied to her before he began getting ready.

After cleaning all evidence of the harsh actions he had committed just a few moments before, Priest got dressed and was due to head out. Before he exited the penthouse, he managed to slip a thick envelope into Ms. Paulette's bag without her knowledge. He said goodbye to her once more before leaving the penthouse and driving straight to Britain's apartment.

Once he arrived, he issued three knocks against the door. He stood waiting for a moment before the door was opened, revealing Britain. The day had managed to slip from their fingertips, causing Britain to prepare for a night out type of vibe. Although Priest adored her when she was in her natural state, he had to admit that Britain looked stunning standing before him. She had slipped on a mocha brown, thin strapped, mini dress that stopped right at the brim of her rounded ass. The dress hugged each dip and curve of her petite frame, triggering Priest to bite down on his bottom lip. She had dropped her hair from the top knot bun she had been wearing and pressed it bone straight. Her jet-black tresses cupped her gorgeous face, styled with a sharp part down the middle. Britain's choice of attire was more than alluring to the eyes, and she managed to keep her look subtle and not take away from the dress with an excessive amount of jewelry. Around her neck was a necklace with butterfly pendant that stood as a statement piece, just like the chopsticks in her hair a few days before.

"You look gorgeous," Priest complimented her as he entered the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

Britain grinned up at him, her cheeks hiked up so high that they were causing her feline-like eyes to squint. Her face had grown warm, and if she wasn't compiled of all that gorgeous melanin, Priest would have seen she was blushing.

"Thank you. You clean up nice," she complimented him. Priest was dripped out in a pair of black Amiri jeans that he sagged slightly, matching it with a graphic Chrome Hearts hoodie. His feet were adorned with a fresh pair of cocaine white ones that he had laced to his liking.

Once Britain composed herself from the urge to smile goofily the entire time, she reached her hand up, examining one of the three diamond flooded chains Priest had on. The piece that looped through the iced-out chain was a raging bull that was also flooded in onyx black diamonds.

"I'm a Taurus," he enlightened her. His hands had gravitated to her waist. She had yet to put on her heels, so she still stood at her normal height, which allowed him to tower over her.

Britain’s thumb caressed the well-crafted piece of jewelry. "I'm a Cancer," she replied. He watched as she gathered all her hair on her right shoulder, turning around so he could set his eyes on the small tattoo that inked the nape of her neck. The black ink made out the constellation of the Cancer zodiac sign.

"We're compatible," Priest added with a lick of his lips.

Britain could feel herself growing weak in Priest’s hold as he peered down at her. If she remained a second longer, she would be at his mercy to do as he pleased with her.

"Let me go put on my heels, and we'll be all set," she informed him as she began drifting away toward her bedroom to retrieve her shoes.

Her journey to her bedroom was halted by the restriction of Priest's hands at her sides. Looking over her shoulders at him, Britain couldn't help but to turn around to face him. She stood before him with her head craned up to maintain strong eye contact. She felt a sudden shudder rattle her spine as his intense gaze shifted from her orbs to her full set of lips that were fancied in the brand of lip gloss he loved so much.

He craned down, colliding his plush lips with hers. Like second nature, she wrapped her arms around his neck and jolted up on her tippy toes. They both relished the slow kiss, savoring the moment. Priest gripped her waist tightly, giving her that sense of security she hadn't felt from a man she was pursuing in a while.

"I crave you, and I haven't even had you yet," Priest huskily breathed out. He was thinking out loud and failed to keep Britain out of his head.

Britain had no witty response or any question to spring on him. He noticed that she liked cupping her hands around the structure of his face. She admired him a lot. Craning his head down, Britain pulled him into another igniting kiss.

Their lips parted from each other, and he ran a distressed hand down his face. "Go put your heels on," he told her before they ended up getting carried away.

She obliged with a nod of her head, turning on her heels toward her bedroom and leaving Priest in question.

What the fuck has gotten into me?

To the sounds of 6lack and J. Cole’s song “Pretty Little Fears,” Britain and Priest sat alongside each other in his Porsche. She couldn't help but find it amusing how Priest hummed lowly to the song, not wanting to draw too much of her attention. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, emulating the beat of the song.

"Let it out. I know you wanna sing it," she encouraged him.

He laughed, keeping his focus on the road. Britain angled herself so she could stare directly at him. A beguiling smile curled her lips at the sight of him desperately trying to avoid her gaze.

"Your image crowds your true aura," she blurted out, reaching for the screen on the dashboard and pausing the song.

Priest scrunched his face up questioningly. "What are you talking about?"

"Exterior wise, you're hard, invincible even. On the inside, you crave vulnerability and love." Britain’s eyes scanned him as he shifted uncomfortably at the fact that she was right. "You've been through a lot, from what I've heard so far, but remember, it's never been your fault," she preached to him, hoping her words didn’t fall on deaf ears.

Realizing Priest wasn't going to issue a response like he usually would when he felt the conversation was established enough, Britain resumed the song, allowing it to fill the car with J. Cole's favored verse.

" You can confide in me. I can take the weight up off your shoulder blades and try to store the pain inside of me. Like, why the world do you like that? Like they don't know you, God-sent, but me, I view you like that, " Britain lightly sung along while using her right hand to gently caress Priest's face in adoration.

Priest felt a calm wash over him. She seemed to be subduing that constant craving for vulnerability and love. " I'm sneaking glances thanking God that he drew you like that ." Priest finally conceded to Britain's persuasion of singing along. " Beautiful black child, come and shed your black cloud. For your vibe and your smile, I don't mind a lil' rain ."

His tender hand gripped her exposed thigh. J. Cole’s verse resonated with Priest all too well. Even though Priest considered himself more of the black cloud than Britain, it was an open admission that he was willing to take on the rain that came with being introduced into Britain's life and letting her into his.

Once they arrived at their destination, the car came to a smooth halt. Getting out, he stuffed his keys and phone into the pockets of his Amiri jeans and made his way over to Britain's side of the vehicle, assisting her out of the car.

"Where are we?" was the first thing Britain asked as she scanned her surroundings.

With a smirk, Priest placed his hand on the small of her back. "Just vibe, Gioia ," he assured.

Britain screwed her face up in a nasty mean mug. "Hell you call me? My name is not Gioia . It's Britain," she corrected him with a slash of her tongue, full of attitude.

Priest maneuvered Britain in front of him with his arms lacing her waist. " Gioia means “joy and delight” in Italian. That's what you are to me right now." Hearing the meaning behind the gifted nickname immediately tamed Britain’s attitude.

"Right now?" She shot him a side eye that evoked an amused chuckle from him.

"For however long," Priest corrected himself, which seemed to please her.

Priest maneuvered his way from behind Britain, now hand in hand with her. He led the way to the entrance of a restaurant with glass decor. The lighting within the restaurant was spectacular. Large, exquisite chandeliers graced the ceiling as porcelain white crystal light fixtures fancied the place.

"It's beautiful in here." Britain surveyed the restaurant in awe as she followed Priest, who now had employees scurrying around to fulfill his requests, and he hadn't even uttered a word.

"Jazzy designed the place," Priest enlightened Britain with a light smile once they were finally able to secure a secluded table in the back, which was always reserved for either Priest, Jazzy, Kaymen, or J'Ru.

Britain blinked, trying her best to retain the basis of what he had just told her. "Which means you own the place?" she asked.

Priest nodded his head as he pulled her chair out for her. She thanked him as he went to claim his seat opposite her. " La Lealtà ," she read the cursive script that engraved the leather covering of the menu, slightly butchering the name.

Priest chuckled. "Say it with me, La Lealtà, " he guided her with the proper pronunciation of the name. "It's Italian. It means “loyalty, honesty, faithfulness,”" Priest added, knowing Britain had a question brewing for him pertaining to the origin of the name.

Britain rolled her eyes kiddingly at the fact that Priest beat her to the punch. "You seem to love the Italian language. Have you ever been?" She diverted with another question.

"Two years ago, I spent about six months in Italy. My vacation turned into a short stay. Couldn't say I minded, though." Priest shrugged. "The culture is one that can't be beat. They take pride in family, loyalty, and trust— three things I stand for."

He can’t be the monster the media is portraying him to be he just can’t be!

"You hear so much about me, yet I know literally nothing about you." Priest’s dark eyes searched her inviting brown ones.

"My joy revolves around telling other people's stories so much so that I forget that I even have one myself." Britain shrugged as well.

Priest adjusted his posture with a questioning expression masking his face. "Lost yourself?"

Britain scoffed. “More like found," she corrected. "If I was able to face the woman I was a few years ago, I definitely wouldn't be able to recognize her."

"Growth." Priest nodded his head approvingly. "That's a good thing."

Britain agreed. "It definitely is. However, it's also straining. Growth is somewhat overhyped."

Britain always spoke her mind. Just like her mother, she was able to raise tension in a room just by stating her opinion. Whether people agreed with her or not wasn't her true concern. All she wanted was acknowledgment that she was indeed valid.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this shit." Priest’s face flashed in amusement as he prepared himself to be entertained by Britain’s brewing rant. Although she was about to state some opinions that Priest would both agree and disagree with, she had his mind open.

That's all that matters— he’s open.