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 crowd was still roaring when we slipped into the blacked-out SUV, the windows fogging slightly from the humidity and our mixed sweat and perfume. Sinna's show had just ended, and the driver sped off from the back gate of the venue, leaving screaming fans and flashing cameras behind.
I was still breathless from the show — my hands on his thigh, heart pounding, trying to kiss him between giggles in the back seat.
I laughed between kisses. "Yo... yuh just come off stage, and yuh ready fi buss sweat again?"
He grinned, gold tooth glinting in the dashboard lights.
"Yuh know mi stamina nuh normal."
His lips found my neck again, hands sliding under my skirt, and for a minute, nothing else existed. Just the taste of coconut rum still on his breath, the soft grind of his hips against mine, and the way his laugh made my thighs tremble.
But then his phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
I caught the name glowing on the screen just before he swiped it away.
" PUNK 🖤😘💕♾️"
Sinna's jaw clenched. He reached over, locked the phone, and dropped it face-down on the seat beside us.
"Who dat?" I asked, half-joking.
"Nuh body ," he muttered, voice a little too tight.
I leaned back, laughing it off — but something in me stiffened. Sinna really think me a eediat, Smaddy saved as " PUNK 🖤😘💕♾️" inna him phone and some reason they are a nobody.
He reached for me again, like he could feel the distance growing, but I didn't move.
The car ride back to the resort was mostly quiet. He leaned back, watching the buildings blur past through tinted glass. I stared out the opposite window, arms crossed.
When we got to the Ocean Luxe entrance, lights spilled golden across the marble stairs. Fans were still hovering near the valet — whispering, snapping pics.
Inside the suite, I headed straight to the bathroom and slammed the door.
I needed space.
Not because I was jealous.
But because I wasn't stupid.
⸻
By the time I stepped out, I had cooled down enough to fake a smile. I threw on the olive green silk slip he liked, the one with the back out and deep side slit. My skin glowed under the golden lighting. I looked like someone he used to love.
He was on the couch rolling a spliff, TV playing some muted music channel, still dressed from the show. Still looking too damn good for me to stay mad at.
