Everything else could burn in hell.
* * *
Two weeks Later….
I was at the Police Captain's Ball, and it was exactly as bougie as I expected. The venue was this fancy hotel ballroom with crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, centerpieces with roses and candles. Everyone was dressed to the nines, men in expensive suits, women in designer gowns. There was a live band playing jazz music, waiters walking around with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. And there were cops every fucking where.
Not just regular cops either, captains, commanders, detectives, all these high-ranking police in their dress uniforms with their medals and shit. Some were in suits, but you could tell they were law enforcement by the way they carried themselves. They all had that authoritative energy.
It lowkey freaked me out. I'd spent my whole life avoiding cops, trying not to get caught up in the system. And now I was at a party full of them, smiling and pretending like I belonged.
The dress Mr. Clyde bought me was a black Mugler gown that fit like it was painted on. The fabric hugged every curve, every dip, every inch of my body perfectly. It had a high slit that went all the way up my right thigh, showing off my leg whenever I walked. The neckline was a deep V that showed just enough cleavage to be sexy without looking ratchet. The back was completely open, just thin straps crossing over my shoulder blades. It was elegant, expensive, and sexy as fuck.
My lace front was laid to the gods. long, bone-straight hair that cascaded down my back. My makeup was on point as well. I was rocking a smokey eye with gold shimmer, perfectly sculpted contour, glossy nude lips. My lashes were long and dramatic, making my eyes pop. I had gold jewelry, delicate earrings, and athin chain around my neck, while rocking a few rings. My nails were done in a French tip with gold accents. And my shoes were black Louboutin heels with the signature red bottoms, they were so high I was damn near six feet tall.
I looked expensive, and I looked exactly like the kind of woman who belonged at a high-society event.
Mr. Clyde had been the perfect gentleman all night. He introduced me to people as his "companion for the evening,” he kept his hand respectfully on my lower back, he made sure I had champagne and food. We made small talk with boring people about boring people shit. investments, real estate, somebody's yacht, and their vacation homes in the Hamptons.
I played my role perfectly. Smiled at the right times, laughed at their unfunny jokes, acted interested in their stories.
"I'm going to grab another drink," I told Mr. Clyde after about an hour. "You want anything?"
"No, Beautiful, I'm fine. I'll be right here speaking with the Commissioner."
I nodded and made my way through the crowd toward the bar. The bartender was pouring drinks for a couple of older women, so I waited, checking my phone absently.
"The Universe is tryna tell me something," The voice came from behind me, smooth and deep, and something about it made my whole body tense up before I even turned around.
Turning around my breath got caught. Sosa was standing there, looking fine as hell in a black suit that fit him perfectly. The jacket was tailored to his broad shoulders, the pants hung just right. He had a white shirt underneath, top button undone, no tie. His locs were freshly retwisted, hanging down past his shoulders, and that silver nose ring caught the light from the chandelier. He had a gold watch on his wrist, diamond studs in his ears, and he smelled like expensive cologne.
"Yah-Yah," he said, his eyes slowly dragging up and down my body in a way that made me feel hot all over. “What’s good?"
"Sosa," I said, trying to sound casual even though my heart was beating faster. "Whatchu’ doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing." He stepped closer, and I caught more of his cologne. "But I'm here for some business shit. Making connections, you know how it is." His eyes lingered on the slit in my dress, then traveled back up to my face. "You look... sexy as fuck." "Thank you," I said, turning back toward the bar. The bartender was finally free. "Can I get a Don Julio and lemonade with a splash of cranberry?"
"Make that two," Sosa said, sliding up next to me at the bar. "So what brings you to a police ball? You a cop now?"
I side-eyed him. "Do I look like a cop?"
“Nah, but shit these days you never know.”
"I'm here with someone," I said firmly, taking my drink from the bartender.
"Oh yeah? Who?"
"That's none of your business."
"Everything about you is my business, ma." He picked up his drink, taking a sip while maintaining eye contact. "Especially when you looking like that." I felt my face get warm.
"Sosa, don't start."
"Don't start what? Telling you the truth?" He leaned against the bar, getting comfortable. "I ain't seen you since that night at the club, when you was out here fighting like Mike Tyson."
"Shut up." I smiled.
"Nah, for real though, shorty you got some hands on you.” He laughed, a sound that was way too attractive. “Ole girl was surprised as fuck.” He continued, The mention of that shit soured my mood immediately. "Can we not talk about that?"