“Yeah.” Tipping his head down, he arches an eyebrow. “Baby girl? Your call. She stay or go?”
Before I can answer, Michelle looses a soft, undignified squawk of outrage, but then it transitions to an abrupt laugh. “Oh, I see where this is headed. Forget that she probably murd—”
He moves so fast, it’s a fucking blur, andholy shit.
“I see you one of those ‘give a muthafucka an inch, they take a gotdamn mile’ bitches, huh?” Asad murmurs, his voice possessing an almost curious tone.
But it’s that calm, inquisitive note that makes the hard, punishing grip on his mother’s cheeks all the more ominous. Michelle’s eyes bulge, her lips purse under his implacable hold, and her hands flutter around his wrists. And Asad… He doesn’tappear angry or bothered. Like manhandling his mother is just something on the hors d’oeuvre menu along with the stuffed salmon bites.
Around us, murmurs and soft exclamations rise, and more than one person is noticing this exchange. I peek around his big body, and more than a few guests nudge each other, whisper behind raised hands or subtly point. Butallare looking in this direction.
“Asad.” I touch the back of his shoulder, but it doesn’t seem to faze him at all.
“I’ve warned you about playing with me. Thinking I won’t do you dirty because you pushed me out that ran-through pussy is where you got me fucked up. Now this my last time. Shut the fuck up if you want to stay here, and heed Ember’s warning about finding something safe to do. And that doesn’t include being around me or talking shit to her. Besides”—he bends his head and says this close to her ear so only the three of us can hear—“we both know the only murdering bitch standing here is you.” He abruptly releases her, and she stumbles back several unsteady steps on her heels. Whipping out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he wipes his fingers on it without removing his hooded gaze from his mother. “Now, Ember, she staying? Yeah or nah?”
I swallow, a little disturbed but a whole lot turned on.
And awed. And humbled.
I peer at Michelle. “She can stay.”
“The announcement about our engagement is at midnight. You might want to fix your face if you intend on staying.”
Like, literally fix her face. Her formerly flawless makeup looks like somebody has… well… jacked her up.
Michelle’s chest rises up and down on quick, loud pants. Humiliation, fear, and fury stain her face and gleam in her eyes. I have zero doubts if she could kill her son right now and get away with it, she would. That anger carries a sharp, deadly cold edge, and without realizing it, I take a step toward Asad, the surge of protectiveness propelling me forward. Her gaze shifts to me, andher eyes darken more. But in the next second, her expression clears, all traces of emotion gone as if the altercation with Asad never happened. A strained but cool smile curves her lips, and she dips her head.
“You’re right. Now isn’t the time or place for this discussion. If you’ll excuse me.” Head held high, she leaves, the nosy-ass crowd swallowing her up.
Stage whispers and loud murmurs pepper the air, but as Asad turns around to face me, he doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck that these people witnessed him yoke his mama up. HisI don’t give a fuckness is both worrisome and hot as fuck. Worrisome, because if he ever tries that with me, I’m with the shit, too. We would be like a hurricane, fucking everything up in our path. And hot as fuck, because in a world where lies are a universal currency, that kind of brutal honesty where everyone can get it, with no respect of persons, is addictive.
I can no longer deny that Asad has fast become an addiction for me. Like I’m one of the fiends hitting a drug supplied by Cross, I crave a hit of him.
But fear holds me back. Fear of losing myself. Fear of him turning into Marcus and me becoming my mother. Fear of being… nothing to him.
“What the fuck just happened here?” Sam hisses, joining us, his furious scrutiny landing on us before scanning the partygoers. As if suddenly remembering they have something else to do, they disperse, leaving the three of us in relative privacy. “I heard about a commotion and then your mother just flew past me. Without her broomstick. What the hell is going on?”
Before Asad or I can reply, Kareem stalks up to our small group, a fierce scowl marring his handsome face.
“I just bumped into Mom, Asad, and she looked terrible. She told me to ask you what happened. What the fuck? Did something go down with her?”
“Yeah.” He arches an eyebrow. “Me.”
“Prince, are you okay?” Aryn appears next to Kareem and lays a hand on Asad’s forearm and the other on his chest.
The fuck?There’s no stopping the killing fury surging like a raging tide. Where did she come from? And why is she touching Asad as if she has the right? The ho was at the dinner, so she understands who I am to him.
“Here’s where you got me fucked up.” I reach over, wrapping my fingers around the ones splayed over his chest, and squeeze. Then bend them back. She gasps and tries to snatch her arm away, but I continue to arch those fingers back until one of them snaps. One down, three more to go. “Maybe no one ever taught you to keep your hands to yourself. Allow me.”
“Ember,” Kareem gently says, settling his hand on my bare back and covering my fingers with his. I instinctively cringe from his touch. “Let her go, sweetheart. People are looking.”
“Get your hands off her,” Asad snaps at his brother, and the menace infused in those five words has both him and me dropping our arms to our sides. “Get the bitch you came here with and leave my woman to me.”
“Prince—” Aryn whines.
“Okay, okay.” Sam steps forward, glancing around with a frown darkening his expression. “This is a fucking sideshow, and we’re not here for that. Kareem, take your”—he sneers—“dateand go get a drink. Prince and Ember, there are a few people who I’d like you to meet,” he says, playing peacemaker and directing everyone to their respective corners.
After a hard, enigmatic look at his older brother, Kareem cups Aryn’s elbow and leads her away, getting swallowed up by the crowd. The question of why in the hell he’s here with his brother’s ex–fuck buddy gets lost in the buzz that grows louder and louder in my head. This—his emotional confessional, Michelle, Kareem, Aryn—it’s too much, and I need a moment.