The weight of the world felt light in Avery Laurent’s hands. Not because it wasn’t heavy—he carried more than his share of burdens—but because he knew how to handle it. His mama used to say, “T’es fort comme un bœuf, mon fils.” You’re strong like an ox, my son. “You built to carry heavy things. Never forget that.”
She wasn’t wrong. At six-foot-three, with a build like a linebacker and skin rich like dark chocolate, Avery moved through life with quiet, controlled strength. His Creole roots ran deep, just like his family’s history in New Orleans. You could see it in the way he carried himself—the steady confidence, the refined way his locs, long and thick, hung past his shoulders, framing his sharp jawline. He had his mama’s high cheekbones and his daddy’s stern presence.
Right now, that presence filled the modern office of Laurent Security Group, one of the three companies in his empire. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the New Orleans skyline, but inside, it was calm. Everything under control. Avery stood behind his desk, eyes scanning his laptop, wrapping up another contract. Legal, this time.
A slow grin tugged at his lips as he finished. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his broad, muscular frame. His body was still tight, built from years of football, but now it carried power in a different way. It didn’t matter if the deals were clean or on the side—c’est la vie, it’s the cost of doing business in this city.
Just then, the door opened, and Xavier strolled in, laid-back as ever, no knock, no pause.
“Mèsi,” Avery said, his deep voice laced with humor. “You just gon’ walk in like you own the place, huh?”
Xavier, his closest boy since high school, shrugged as he dropped into the chair across from him. “You know how it is, bruh,” he said, his gold grill flashing. “Figured you wasn’t busy if you grinnin’ like that. Another deal signed?”
“Something like that.” Avery leaned back, his dimples flashing. “But I ain’t tryna talk about work all day.”
Xavier nodded, understanding. He knew there was always more under the surface with Avery. People saw the businessman, the clean-cut suit. What they didn’t see was the hustle—the empire that ran deeper than any corporate deal. The side money, the gun trade, the rules of the streets that New Orleans lived by. Avery knew them all too well.
“You good, though?” Xavier asked, eyes scanning Avery like he could read him better than anyone.
Avery paused for a second, the room slipping away as a memory flashed—his father’s voice booming through their old house, fists slamming on the kitchen table. His mother’s voice, sharp and desperate, cutting through the air like glass.
“Ou ka pa fè sa!” You can’t do that! she’d shouted, tears in her eyes.
His father’s fists slammed again. “Don’t walk away from me, woman!”
Avery had been too scared to move, crouched behind the door, heart racing in his chest. That helplessness—it never left him. That’s why he built himself up, why he controlled everything now. No one would ever make him feel small again.
“Ay, you good?” Xavier’s voice snapped him back to the present.
“Yeah, I’m straight. Just thinkin’,” Avery said, rubbing the back of his neck. “What you got lined up for tomorrow night?”
Xavier didn’t push for more, just handed over a folder. “Everything set. Them boys on the Eastside better act right. Should be smooth if they don’t try no dumb shit.”
Avery’s jaw tightened slightly. “Pas de merde, X. I don’t like mess.”
“Relax, frè,” Xavier said with a smirk, throwing his hands up. “We got this. Ain’t nobody gon’ mess this up.”
Avery nodded. In New Orleans, you had to play the game right. His businesses ran clean on the surface, but the side deals—the arms trade—kept things balanced. His empire? It was built on control.
“You still seein’ that girl from last month?” Xavier teased, changing the subject.
Avery laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s done. Wasn’t nothin’ serious.”
“Man, you never take nothin’ serious with these women.”
Avery’s slow grin flashed again, dimples showing. “That’s ‘cause I’m focused, bruh. Ain’t nobody got time for distractions. I’m buildin’.”
“Keep buildin’ and you gon’ end up alone in this glass tower with all that money but no one to spend it with.”
Avery shrugged it off, but the weight of Xavier’s words hung in the air. Sometimes, success felt quiet. Too quiet. He had his empire, his businesses, but the nights alone in the tower—those got louder over time.
He stood and walked to the window, staring out over the city. His reflection stared back—tall, powerful, locs neat, eyes sharp. Avery Laurent was a man who had it all. Power. Control. An empire.
But memories had a way of creeping in.
YOU ARE READING
In Bloom
RomanceIn the streets, you play to survive. In love, you risk it all. But when the lines between both start to blur, who can you really trust? Avery "Cap" Dupree runs the city-respected, feared, and always two steps ahead of anyone trying to come for his t...
