Zurianne never imagined that saving her mother's life would cost her own freedom. Forced into an arranged marriage with Christopher Whyte the infamous Jamaican Don feared by many,she braces herself for a life of cold stares and ruthless commands. Bu...
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The weight of the day hung heavy on my shoulders as I pushed through the grand doors of the mansion. The cool evening air did little to ease the heat in my veins. Zurianne's words echoed in my mind, cutting through the fog of alcohol that had already begun to cloud my senses. The twins. Her pain. The argument. All of it was too much to bear, and now, I just needed something, anything, to take the edge off.
I headed straight for the bar, pouring myself a generous glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling as it filled the glass. I didn't bother with a glass of water, just drank it straight. One glass quickly became two, then three, until I was lost in the rhythm of it all. Something felt wrong deeply wrong. Everything in my life was unraveling, pulling me in opposite directions. My marriage was in shambles, my business felt like it was teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and there was this heaviness in my chest, a weight I couldn't shake. It wasn't just stress. It wasn't just the chaos of the past few weeks. It felt like a bad omen, creeping through my life, warning me that something darker was at play.
And then I remembered her.
The old reader woman in St. Mary. The same one my people had spoken about in hushed, reverent tones. They swore she had a gift, that she could see through the smoke and mirrors of this world, uncovering truths no man could. I hadn't cared much at the time what place did a Don like me have for mystics and omens? But now? Now I was desperate for clarity.
Praying to God had never been my specialty. I had done too many ruthless things, made too many enemies, buried too many secrets. Men like me didn't get the luxury of salvation. But maybe, just maybe, I could get answers.
And if there was even a chance she could tell me what the hell was poisoning my life from the inside out, I had to take it.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Matteo's number, not caring how bad the connection was.
"Matteo, come ova di house now !We ago St. Mary tonight."
A pause. He knew something was wrong. He always did. But I didn't give him time to question me.
It didn't take long for him to show up, driving up to the mansion in his usual blacked-out ride. When I stepped out onto the porch, I didn't even look at him. I just climbed into the passenger seat, ready to drive the goddamn demons from my mind.
We didn't talk on the ride to St. Mary. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway. The road blurred before me, the headlights flashing against the night, but my mind wasn't on the road. It was elsewhere, spinning, suffocating me.
By the time we reached the small tent, I had no idea what to expect. But I felt that tug, that need for something... anything.
She'd been recommended to me by a few people I trusted, some of them in the shadows. They said she had a gift, something that could see through the smoke, see things that weren't obvious. She wasn't the type of woman I'd usually trust, but I didn't care anymore. At this point, I'd take anything that might tell me how the hell to fix what was broken.
