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Chapter Thirty-Five

The next day, they enjoyed breakfast with each other. Priest had an empty schedule on his hands since he had technically ended his previous day in the wee hours of the morning.

"Ya pops don't miss a beat," Priest chuckled with a shake of his head at Britain. "He already hit my line.”

Britain's eyes widened slightly. "What did he say?"

"Nothing crazy. He just told me to pull up when I get the chance."

Britain stuck out her bottom lip. She wasn't sure how this talk between Remy and Priest was going to go. Britain knew Remy was going to put his relationship he had with Priest aside to act more as a father for her sake. She was praying that neither of their alpha personalities got in the way of them having a civil and respectful conversation.

"Can I come?"

Priest chuckled, finding the fact that she was in so much distress about the situation amusing. "Since when have you had to ask?" He raised a brow with a smirk etched on his face.

"You think he'll be mad if we show up together?" Britain screwed her face up.

With a laugh, Priest shook his head. "I think that's the least of his worries," he told her. "His daughter is running around town with a criminal that she's reporting on."

Britain smacked her lips in annoyance as she narrowed her eyes at Priest. "Stop referring to yourself as that, please and thank you."

Priest made his way over to her, grabbing ahold of her chin with his index finger and thumb. "You really give me too much credit." Levity laced his tone as his eyes peered down at her.

"Seriously, I don't like when you say things like that about yourself," she stressed with a stern voice. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

"Gioia, we can’t keep running away from the truth," Priest told her, being the realist he was.

Britain reached up and cupped his handsome face. "I'm not running away from the truth. I'm being honest. I know who you really are, and that will always be my take of you. To me, you aren't a criminal or some street thug who came up. You're Priest Kanaz Justice, the man whose biggest fear is ending up where he used to be," she said to him, giving him the clarity he never knew he needed.

Priest leaned in and pecked Britain's lips lightly. A smile spread across her face at the affection that was coming her way. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him.

"I love you," he professed in a low voice.

"I love you too." Britain brought him down to her height to kiss his lips once more.

Eventually, Priest was ready to head over to Remy's spot. Britain rode with him, giving him quick talking points so things wouldn't go sour. "Brit, you do know I could care less about what or how the fuck Remy feels about us? I'm still gonna rock with you."

Britain narrowed her eyes at him as she shot him a stale face. "Well, that isn't a very nice thing to say. Now, is it, Priest?" she chastised him.

Priest laughed as he kept his left hand on the steering wheel and the other gripping Britain's thigh. "I'm being real, though. I respect him and all, but I'll be a sorry excuse for a man if I take his advice and stop fucking with the shorty I love because of how he feels about it." Priests shrugged his shoulders with a nonchalant scoff. "I'm a grown-ass man."

Britain couldn't contain the smile on her face upon hearing him refer to her as the women he loved. She lifted his hand from her thigh and placed a gentle kiss on his tattooed knuckles before fusing their hands together.After a few minutes of traffic, Priest stopped the car right at the curb in front of Remy's house.

"P, just let him lead the conversation," Britain coached him.

Priest chuckled as he got out the car and made his way around to assist Britain out. "I got this, Gioia. Quit tripping," he assured her.

Hand in hand, they made their way toward the entrance of Remy's house. Britain was as nervous as ever. Priest, on the other hand, was relaxed and prepared. Priest took a step back, allowing Britain to stand before him to knock. He watched her lift her fist, on the verge of knocking, before halting to swing herself around to face him.

"Priest, don't screw this up," Britain gritted at him, imploring him not to rub her father the wrong way.

Priest chuckled before reaching over her and knocking on the door himself. It didn't take long for the door to open. To their surprise, it was Mirsad who answered. "Well, well, well! If it ain't my big cousin who left me for dead with a maniac of an old man." Mirsad cut his eyes at Priest.

"Shut the fuck up. You're better here than anywhere else." Priest mushed Mirsad's face, causing Britain to laugh a bit.

Mirsad swatted Priest’s hand out of his face, averting his attention to Britain. "You Mr. Demings daughter?" Mirsad raised a brow at her.

Britain looked over her shoulder and up at Priest. They eyed each other briefly before laughing together. "He really called him Mr. Demings," Britain continued to laugh as she and Priest stepped into the home. It was evident that Remy had Mirsad on the straight and narrow.

Mirsad closed the door behind them with an annoyed look etched on his face. He was counting the days until he left Remy's spot. Everything was either a chore or a lesson while he was there. Mirsad kept in contact with his mother, and to his dismay, she found it a wonderful thing that Remy was working him like a dog. He attempted to defy Remy once, but that ended up with him being roughed up, put outside and locked out without any shoes or his phone until he apologized. Mirsad didn't really think Remy forcing him to do a whole bunch of things he didn't want to do was making him change, but for the sake of not being shot at by the opps who were out for his head, he was going to stay low and abide by Remy's so-called "rules."

"Where's Rem?" Priest asked Mirsad as he took a look around.

"Tryna be the hood Bob the Builder," Mirsad scoffed. "He's laying down new tiles in the downstairs bathroom." He pointed toward the hall that led to the washroom Remy was currently working on.

"I heard that." Remy appeared in the hall while wiping his hands on a hand towel. Streaks of white mortar marked his clothing, evidence of all the work he had done. He shot Mirsad a mean mug as Mirsad simply shrugged. "Go on in there and finish up," Remy directed Mirsad as he tossed him the filthy towel containing the residue of the mortar he used to lay the tiles.

Mirsad screwed his face up, starting to refute. “I don't know how to?—"

"Learn," Remy beat him to the punch.

Mirsad muttered a few things underneath his breath before going to do the appointed task. Remy averted his attention to Priest and Britain. He hadn’t expected Priest to bring Britain along with him, but her presence wasn't going to deter him from saying what he had to say.

"What's up, Rem?" Priest greeted.

Remy’s orbs shifted from Britain to Priest. "You two show up as package deal now?"

Remy raised a brow at them before leading the way to the couches in the living room so they could have a seat and talk.Britain and Priest glanced at each other and shrugged their shoulders. They couldn't really gauge whether Remy was upset. He wasn't giving many signs of any of his feelings. His tone was flat, and so were his facial expressions.

"Is that a trick question?" Britain side-eyed her father as she took a seat next to Priest. Self-conscious about being too open with her relationship with Priest in front of her father, she scooted over, putting some space between them. Both Priest and Remy chuckled at her actions.

"No trick questions around here, baby girl," Remy assured her as he took a seat opposite them on the La-Z-Boy. "I didn't ask you to come here so I could scare you two out of whatever you guys have going on. I just wanted to lay things out on the table, especially when it comes to my daughter," Remy clarified as he spoke directly to Priest.

Priest nodded in understanding as he wrapped his arm around Britain's shoulders, pulling her back to the spot she had just moved from. "I'm listening," Priest told him.

"Britain is oblivious to everything that comes with you, which is both a good thing and a bad thing," Remy began. "She's definitely a grown woman, but I wouldn't be doing my job as a father if I didn't highlight certain things for her. Priest, you live a fast life that can get dangerous. I don't need Britain caught in the crossfire of anything. I just want your word that you will keep her safe and out the way. Truthfully, she's all I got, really, and I don't want anything happening to her," Remy explained.

Britain stuck her bottom lip out, sympathizing with her father. Although he was concerned about her safety while dealing with Priest, Britain couldn't help but to think about how lonely life had been for him before she came around.

Priest cleared his throat. "I care for Britain. If I didn’t, I wouldn't be sitting here. I would never put her in the line of danger. My life outside of what we have going on has no room to spill into our situation. I make sure of it," Priest asserted with a high level of confidence. Britain sat beside him nodding her head in a proud manner.

"Me and Britain's mother, Seven, had a similar situation, and I would hate for history to repeat itself. With you being who you are, Priest, I need you to be open with Brit about everything. The worst thing you can do is hide skeletons in the closet."

Remy had made the awful mistake of not being completely upfront with Seven when they were together. He fucked up and led her to believe he led a completely falsified life that blew up right in his face. He would’ve hated to see Priest do the same to his daughter.

Priest nodded, taking his advice to account. "Heard’ju."

"And you," Remy continued, shifting his attention to Britain. She pursed her lips, slightly nervous about what he was going to tell her. "Play your role, nothing less and for damn sure nothing more," he advised Britain with a stern eye.

Britain screwed her face up. "Can I get some elaboration, please?"

Priest chuckled silently at Britain while shaking his head at her. "Don't over-fantasize about a future that could be taken at any given moment," Remy told his daughter in all seriousness.

"C'mon, Rem. That's harsh," Priest called out as he sat an assuring hand on Britain's knee, knowing she was far more sensitive to words than he was.

Remy glanced back at Priest and agreed with him. "Very harsh, but it comes with the territory." He shrugged his shoulders. "I’d rather both of you be prepared for the worst than not be prepared at all."

Priest let out a breath. "You got my word, man," Priest assured him as he placed his right hand over his heart.

Remy leaned over to rest his arms on his knees. He stared right into Priest’s dark orbs, showing how serious and straight forward he was being about the situation. "My daughter's my everything, Priest. Don't fuck this up," he warned him.

"No doubt," Priest declared.Britain was grateful that both men in her life were on the same page. Eventually, things grew less intense and serious, and Britain ventured off to go pick at Mirsad since she wanted to learn more about him. Priest, however, remained with Remy, having a conversation with him without Britain present.

"I know you ain’t really feeling me," Priest mentioned to Remy with a sly smirk, breaking the silence Britain had just left behind.

Remy chuckled as he patted his pockets for a lighter. "Priest, I know you respect my daughter, and from what she tells me, I know you're capable of loving my daughter wholeheartedly. I think what’s throwing me off is the fact that you remind me so much of myself," Remy shrugged.

"I hear that, but shit with Britain feels right." Priest's sly smirk morphed into a light smile. "She's changing my life, man."

"I think that's her thing. She changed my life too." A smile etched across Remy’s face as he thought back to the first time Britain came around. She never gave him an option to back out of the opportunity to build a relationship with her. She filled the space in his life with ease and didn’t spend a moment dwelling on all the time he missed. She was a pure and kind soul, and Remy was grateful and blessed to be her father.

"You cool in my book, man, as long as you keep my daughter safe," Remy assured Priest. At the end of the day, he knew Priest personally, and he knew Priest had a great heart. He came from a battered place, but he made better for himself. Remy honestly preferred for Britain to be with Priest than with anyone else.

Eventually, Priest and Britain left Remy's place together in relief. "That went well," Britain smiled.

"Like I knew it would," Priest scoffed, causing her to roll her eyes playfully.

"Thank you for saying all those nice things about me." She smiled as she reached over the console to kiss Priest's cheek.

"It's the truth.”

Now that they had cleared everything up with Remy, Priest and Britain were set to meet with the stylist who would be working with them for the Liberty Gala. Priest was comfortable with having the meeting at his penthouse, so, just to ease Britain's mind a bit, he sent Jazzy and Nia off with Cyro to go anywhere in the city they wanted to go on his dime. Jazzy was suspicious about Priest just sending her and Nia off, but for the sake of cheering Nia up from what happened with Mirsad, Jazzy just went with the flow.

Arriving at the penthouse, Priest parked in one of his assigned parking spots alongside his other vehicles. He made his way around the vehicle, helping Britain out of the car.

"You sure no one is upstairs, right?" Britain asked as she hiked her questioning orbs up at him.

He chuckled at her nerves as he took ahold of her hand. "Positive," he confirmed for her.

Hand in hand, they made their way toward the elevator. Britain stood beside Priest as the doors glided apart, allowing them access. As the doors shut while they were inside, Britain watched in amazement as Priest placed his palm on the sensor, and it immediately granted him access to the top floor.

"Fancy," Britain mumbled, causing Priest to chuckle.

"I can lock you in if you want," he told her with a shrug.

A smirk spread across Britain's face. "Oh, you would love that." She shook her head at him with a light laugh.

The trip up to his penthouse was swift. Once the lift stopped, Britain stood in awe at the sight that was behind the elevator’s gliding doors.Her eyes slowly scanned around, admiring the small details that were put into the decor of the penthouse. The color scheme was skewed toward a soft gray with light accents of white and onyx black. It was evident that Priest was hands on in the decorating process of the penthouse since his personality and aura were thoroughly represented by the decor.

Britain's eyes graced from wall to wall, loving the abstract art that was chosen to bring out the living room’s decor. "This is nice," she complimented as her eyes shifted to the long ceiling to floor windows that allowed the perfect bird's-eye view of the city.

The penthouse looked spotless, almost as if no one lived there. Britain was always amazed by how Priest managed to keep up the cleanliness of his place. Despite being the neat and tidy person she was, she always managed to screw up and leave something lying around.

" Benvenuti a casa mia lontano da casa ." His suave voice melted into Britain's ear as he told her “ Welcome to my home away from home ” in Italian.

Hearing the foreign dialect roll off his tongue evoked butterflies into her stomach. "I forgot you knew how to do that." She shuffled over to him, cupping his handsome face in her hands.

"What? Speak another language?" He raised a brow, causing her to nod.

Britain pulled him down to meet his lips for a gentle kiss. "It sounded ten times better coming from you," she grinned.

Priest licked his lips with a hazy look webbing his eye. "Word?"he throated out while taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Uh huh," Britain nodded.

Priest tried his best to contain himself as Britain remained wrapped in his arms. He opted to give her a quick tour of the penthouse to help her grow familiar with it. He knew she would be restless if she didn't get the chance to see the kitchen first, so that was their first stop.

"You have all this kitchen space, and you mean to tell me you still don't know how to cook?" Britain teased with a raise of her brow.

Priest nestled his head in the crook of Britain's neck, pressing his lips against her smooth skin. "I don't have the time," he mumbled against her skin.

Britain laughed at the feeling of his beard brushing against her neck. "I'll teach you, P."

"‘Preciate it," Priest expressed his gratitude for her efforts.

They continued their course through the home with Priest insisting the next stop be his bedroom. Upon entrance to his safe haven, Britain’s eyes shifted around, admiring the beauty of his perfectly made bed in the center of the bedroom. The tall, paned windows took up an entire wall, allowing Priest to wake up to a gorgeous view whenever he spent his nights there.

"You weren't kidding when you said your bed was bigger." Britain pointed to the Alaskan king-sized bed.

"Ain't no cap in my rap," Priest joked as he lifted her off her feet, tossing her onto the plush mattress.

A squeal of laughter aired out of Britain on the trip down onto the bed. She landed perfectly in the center with her hair sprawled all over. Priest made his way over to the bed, hovering over her so his chains dangled in her face.

"And you ain't wanna come home with me. That's wild." He screwed his face up as if opting out of coming to the penthouse was the craziest decision she could have ever made.

Britain wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. "Your penthouse is lovely," she complimented.

"Thank you." He smirked in a proud and confident manner. He craned down for another kiss, this time unintentionally deepening it. His tongue parted her lips as his right hand glided down the side of her thigh. Britain basked in every second of his tongue exploring the depths of her mouth during the sensual and passionate kiss.

Just as Priest maneuvered his hand toward her inner thighs, he heard a buzz circulate throughout the room. Fighting the urge to continue what he had just started, Priest pulled his lips from Britain's with a light groan, causing her to laugh. She ridded his lips of the transfer of her lip gloss before he went off toward the door of the bedroom. Right next to it was a receiver on the wall for the entry buzzer that was connected to the lobby of the building.

Britain leaned on her elbows, watching as Priest pressed his finger down on a button on the receiver to connect to the lobby. "Yo," he responded to the buzz.

"Good day, Mr. Justice. You have Kenya and her team here for you today." The front desk receptionist informed him in a polite voice.

"You can send them up. Thank you," Priest responded.

"No problem, Mr. Justice. You enjoy the rest of your day," the woman concluded the conversation.

Priest turned away from the entry buzzer to face Britain again. A smirk embedded on her face as she eyed him. "What?" he asked, seeing the look she was giving him.

" Mr. Justice ," she mocked in the same preppy and high-pitched tone the front desk receptionist used. "I like the way that sounds," she teased with a laugh as she began climbing off the bed.

Priest smacked his lips jokingly. "Let's not get into the name calling, Paris ," he heckled her, causing Britain to side-eye him.

They made their way to the living room just in time to meet Priest's stylist, Kenya, and her team of two. Britain kept a smile on her face, afraid that if she didn’t, she would give the wrong impression of being uninterested.

"What's up, Kenya?" Priest leaned in and gave the woman a polite hug.

Kenya was stunning. She stood at the short height of five-foot-three, which she managed to set off with a pair of four-inch heels. Her golden skin contrasted the bright red lipstick that stained her lips and matched the white dress and red blazer she wore.Her hair was styled in a slick ponytail that was accessorized by a few bobby pins, making the style chic and modern. She had her iPad in hand and was carrying what appeared to be a work bag and her phone.

"Hey, Priest. So nice to see you again." She smiled, showcasing the gap she had between her teeth.

Seeing the gap immediately caused Britain to fawn over Kenya because she had one herself. "This my shorty, Britain," Priest introduced Britain as he placed his hand at the small of her back.

Kenya extended a hand to Britain. "Very nice to meet you." She continued to smile.

"Pleasure is all mine," Britain said.

Kenya introduced Britain to the hairstylist, Karlie, and the makeup artist, Deja. Priest let Britain take the lead, certain he and Kenya had nothing to discuss because she always knew what to put him in.

After getting an idea of Britain's style, Kenya encouraged her to try on a few sample gowns she brought with her that could be tailored to Britain's body if needed. While Britain was off trying on the last of the gowns Kenya had brought with her, Priest leaned back in his seat awaiting her.

"You're taking her to the Liberty Gala knowing Paula will be there?" Kenya asked, raising a brow at Priest.

Kenya had known Priest for a while. She had actually met Priest through Paula while she was on the come up to become a well-known stylist. She had done some creative directing work for Paula's photoshoots and campaigns, and they had become good friends.

Priest really found no conflict of interest when it came to hiring Kenya for her services long after he and Paula had come to a screeching halt. It was her job to style people, and he just so happened to be interested in her services. Whenever Kenya and Priest were around each other, they never really spoke about Paula, but today was different. Britain was the first woman after Paula to receive the attention and treatment Paula had gotten. It was clear as day that there was something special going on between Britain and Priest.

Priest glanced at Kenya, who was awaiting a response. He screwed up his face at her question. "Kenya, you got shit fucked up in your mind to think you can question me about where I take my shorty. Me and Paula's situation been dead." Priest turned his lip up at her, setting her straight.

With the Liberty Gala being a night to not only show up as the best dressed, but also contribute to different causes, Paula had fit into the itinerary of the night for the past two years. She was a leading advocate for stopping gun violence because she had been a victim to it with the harsh demise of her husband. She was using her pain as a battered widow and channeling it to fight for change. From what Priest heard, Paula was legit, but he still couldn't shake the fact that she would always be a snake in his eyes.

Kenya cleared her throat, slightly embarrassed at the fact that she overstepped her boundaries. "My bad," she apologized in a light voice.

Before Priest could respond to her, Britain came out of one of the rooms wearing the gown. She made her way down the hall to the living room where everyone was awaiting her entrance.Priest couldn't contain the smile that formed on his face at the sight of her in the gown with her hair pulled back and little to no makeup on. The navy-blue gown fit Britain's body nicely. Even the pair of socks she was wearing instead of heels looked great on her. Priest licked his lips before his eyes trailed back up to lock with hers.

"You feeling it?" he asked, just as he had with the others she tried on.

Britain gazed down at the gown before trailing her head back up with a satisfied smile. "I love it," she gushed.

Kenya clapped in excitement for Britain before making her way over to her. "Great. I'll just stitch it in more at the waist and the bust so it will fit your measurements perfectly," she advised Britain, who simply nodded.

Kenya went over a few things with Britain before wrapping up and leaving. Priest had ushered Kenya and her team to the elevator to make their way down. Britain was still getting dressed in her original clothes.Priest navigated through the penthouse, entering his bedroom where Britain was pulling her shirt over her head. The expression on her face had digressed from the excitement she had shared over the gown she had chosen for the Liberty Gala.

"What's up?" Priest asked as he took a seat on the bed in front of her.

"Why did she mention Paula?" Britain asked Priest, cutting straight to the chase.

Priest let out a sigh. "You heard that?" He hiked his brow up questioningly.

Britain nodded. "For future reference, your penthouse may be lavish and beautiful, but the walls are pretty thin in here," she enlightened him with her arms folded across her chest.

Priest ran a hand down his face. "It was nothing,Gioia," he assured. "Kenya's a friend of Paula, and she just asked whether I was bringing you to the Gala knowing Paula will be there," Priest explained.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" She transitioned her right hand to her hip as she questioned him with a stern eye.

Priest smacked his lips. "I'm no liar, especially when it comes to trust," he asserted. "Don't question me about Paula anymore because I explained to you what transpired between her and I. I'm not doubling back."

Britain hated that she had yet another weak moment in Priest’s eyes. "I'm sorry," she apologized with deep sorrow webbing her eyes.

Priest shook his head. "It's cool. It's not your fault," Priest assured her as he opened his arms to her.

"I love you," she murmured sheepishly as he wrapped his arms around her.

Priest chuckled at how childish her voice sounded. "I love you too." He smirked up at her. "You don't got a thing to worry about when it comes to me. You got my word." He placed his right hand over his heart, sealing the promise to her.