Velvet Requiem (Book 3)

Silent Night

Before meeting up with Jordan, Layla stands in front of her bathroom mirror, taking a moment to appreciate herself. Tonight, she needs to feel like her old self—confident, powerful, and radiant. She runs her fingers through her long, black curls, massaging in a fragrant hair serum that leaves each strand glossy and smelling faintly of jasmine. With a few sprays of her hair perfume, the scent lingers in the air like a promise. She adds a final touch of creamy, blue-toned red lipstick, ensuring every curve of her full lips is perfect. The vibrant hue pops against her skin, drawing attention to the fierce, unwavering expression in her eyes.

For tonight's outing, she slips into a sleek, fitted dress that hugs her curves just right, accentuating every line. The fabric shimmers subtly under the light, catching hints of her chocolate musk scent whenever she moves. A pair of strappy heels complete the look—sophisticated but with an edge that says she owns every step she takes.

Feeling ready, Layla grabs her clutch and heads out.

Jordan slid into her DMs earlier, suggesting they meet at a spot known for its hookah and good vibes. When she arrives, he's already there, cigar in hand and a hookah set waiting. Layla takes a moment to take in his appearance—outside of work, Jordan has a whole different aura. Flashy chains and a tailored jacket scream money, but it's the confidence he exudes that really gets her attention. He gives off that boss energy, the kind she's always been drawn to.

"Hey, Lay," he greets, flashing a smile that makes her feel lighter already.

"Hey, Jordan," she replies, settling in across from him. She takes a few puffs of the hookah, letting herself unwind, letting the smoky tendrils carry away the weight of everything else. They talk, they laugh, and for a moment, Layla allows herself to forget. Jordan's presence is easy, and he makes her feel seen—like he's in tune with her rhythm.

Drinks flow, and Layla finds herself a little lit, her laughter spilling over effortlessly. The hours pass too quickly, and as Jordan signals for the check, she feels a pang of disappointment. He suggests they keep the night going, but as he heads to pay, her phone vibrates in her lap.

She looks down, her heart sinking when she sees a missed call and a text from her mother.

"Hey baby, just wanted to let you know there's a gentleman here. Super nice, said y'all were dating. He brought flowers and dinner."

A cold rage mixed with dread fills her. Kaelen. Of course it's him.

When Jordan returns, she forces a smile, masking the turmoil beneath. "This was great," she says, her voice warm but tinged with regret. "I really hope we can do this again. But I'm gonna have to take a rain check on extending tonight."

Jordan chuckles, brushing it off. "No worries, Lay. Hit me up when you're ready."

"I will," she promises, throwing him a final smile as she slips out the door. But as soon as she's alone, the mask drops. Her heels click against the pavement as she makes her way to her car, each step fueled by a growing fury. I know I'm supposed to be playing nice with this nigga, but why the fuck is he showing up at my mom's house? The thought pounds through her head, each word making her blood boil. The last time we spoke, I told him to leave me the fuck alone. And now he thinks he can just pop up, bring flowers and food, like everything's cool?

Layla grips the steering wheel tight as she drives, her mind spinning. As Layla drives, her mind races with fury and frustration. If Kyren thinks I can just play nice with Kaelen to get what we need, he's out of his damn mind, she fumes. The thought of Kaelen at her mother's house, acting all charming and normal, makes her skin crawl. He's delusional if he thinks this is going to smooth things over. He's a psycho, and he won't leave me alone. How does Kyren expect me to work with him?