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The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. Dayvon stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the diamond crusted chain around his neck. Had had showered and changed into something more nicer for the dinner this evening.
He wore a simple black LV short sleeve, with his muscles exposed perfectly. His jeans were Amiri, distressed and black. His locs sat perfectly at his shoulders, and his piercing eyes, reflecting a mixture of anticipation and resolve, stared back at him through the mirror.
Tonight was special. He had planned an intimate dinner on the beach, with the help of staff that was hired to set everything up perfectly. Their table would be overlooking the ocean, a place where he could share a moment of peace with Samaria, just the way he liked it.
As he reached for his watch that sat on the counter, his phone on the dresser buzzed, breaking the serene silence of the room. He just picked up his watch before exiting the bathroom, and strolling towards the dresser. Glancing at the screen, his jaw tightened once he saw the name Walter Bennett flashing as an incoming call.
Tha fuck could he possibly want now?
He grumbled to himself. With a resigned sigh, he picked up the phone and answered it, his voice steady and calm.
"Yes, Walter?"
"Dayvon, where the hell are you?!"
The voice on the other end was sharp, authoritative, a tone that tolerated no defiance.
"I've been trying to reach you since yesterday! Your mother and I have been worried sick!—"
"I'm not in town right now."
Von replied, keeping his tone neutral.
"I have some business that I've been attending to."
"Business?"
Walter's voice was laced with suspicion.
"Does this kind of business have anything to do with you killing Julius Royale, since you refuse to make things right with India? Because I have yet to hear back from you on that, since you so foolishly left the party, chasing after that damn Samaria girl."
