Paris couldn't get off the elevator fast enough, moving as quickly as her Gucci heels would allow. Zorah and Jessica weren't far behind her as they made their way into the foyer. By the time they arrived, Jessica was already waiting in the lobby, a silent reminder of Shane Carter's influence.
She entered the living area, where Shane, Shamar, Cameron, Solo, and Dom were spread out, each in their own space. A thick haze hung in the air, and she could sense they were about to leave, once again. As HOV once said, just some hood niggas in designer suits. They were dressed to kill—diamonds dancing, and her man looked good enough to suck off the bone.
"Let me talk to you for a second," Shane said, his voice low as he approached her. Her heels had barely brushed against the marble floor when he gently but firmly redirected her, guiding her up the stairs without saying another word.
Shane opened the door to their master bedroom, holding it wide for Paris to step in first before shutting it softly behind them. She watched him closely as he walked past her, trying to read his expression. Just as she suspected, he was pissed. Shane was a master at concealing his emotions, but when she managed to get under his skin, even he couldn't hide the fury that was simmering beneath the surface.
Deep in thought, he sat on the plush couch that occupied the middle of their bedroom. Resting his arms on the back. She could see the wheels spinning from across the room.
"Did you get my texts and voicemail?" Paris asked
"Sit down," Shane replied, ignoring her question and leaving no room to debate. His tone only confirmed her suspicions. He was pissed off.
Paris hesitantly walked over to the sitting area, sitting across from him. Shane folded his arms as he focused on his wife. "Where have you been?" He asked.
"The texts I sent you and the voicemail I left you, I was explaining to you that Zorah found the girl that was in the picture with Natalia. You weren't responding so I had her picked up."
Shane sat silent for a while, "Where the fuck have you been, Paris?" He reiterated
Taking a deep breath, she rolled her eyes "My old apartment, all we did was question her. I found out who has my sister," Paris was cut off as Shane intervened
"You think it was a good idea to leave, without security to go and investigate some shit by yourself?" He asked, leaning forward and clasping his hands together. His voice raw and tired.
"But I wasn't by myself Shane, I had," Cut off once again, he stopped her mid-sentence.
"If it wasn't my security, you were by yourself." He replied
She sighed, "Shane, I want to find my sister by any means necessary."
"What the fuck you think it is I'm doin' Paris?" He asked, raising his voice for the first time since their conversation began.
"Well you weren't replying to my texts, you weren't answering your phone. I didn't want to wait."
"Because you didn't want to wait?" Shane asked, a light chuckle escaping him as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Within seconds, she watched Shane reach for the glass table between them and fling it aside. The sound of breaking glass made her wince, and she swiftly rose to her feet. As he moved towards her, she backed away.
"Oh, you scared now?" Shane asked, his voice low and taunting. She stepped back instinctively, her gaze fixed on his as he got closer, forcing her to back away until her back pressed against the cold marble of the fireplace.
"Let me ask you this, Paris," he barked, his tone laced with irritation. "Why the hell don't you ever seem scared when you're out here making all these reckless, dumbass decisions? Huh?"
