Page 8 of Bodyguard My Heart

“Tell me you don’t feel that shit right here.” He tapped his hand against my chest.

“I’m right there. I’m cumming!” I screamed as I released my juices all over his hand.

“Tell me you don’t love me, Samara, and I’ll let you go.” His body stayed pressed into mine. It was calling me. I should have thrown caution to the wind and told him the truth. Instead, I exhaled a deep breath and lied.

“I don’t love you, Demetrius. I probably never will.”

Demetrius pulled his fingers out of me and slowly backed away. I couldn’t read him. His handsome face was void of emotions.

“The divorce papers will be to you when I return from handling business with Ro. I wish you the best.” He made his way to the front door.

I should have stopped him. I wanted to stop him, but a voice deep inside me said this was for the best.

“Samara!” He took one last look at me. “Divorce or not, if I catch you entertaining that dancing ass nigga, I’m gon’ put two to his head. Something not right about that nigga.” He chucked the deuces before leaving Ashton’s apartment. Tears instantly cascaded down my face as I plopped down on the floor. If I’d made the right choice, why did I feel so horrible?

.

2

Demetrius “Meechie” Augustine

“You want me to send someone to fix the door, Meechie?” my cousin Fabian questioned as soon as I entered the hallway. I glanced at the broken hinges, barely keeping the door upright, and shook my head.

“Nah, fuck that nigga and this door!” I secured my gun at my waist before taking off toward the elevator. As far as I was concerned, he should have chosen somebody else’s wife to play with.

“Ou fou, kouzin. You crazy.” Fabian joked in Haitian as he fell in step with me.

I stopped by Samara’s apartment complex because I didn’t feel right not seeing her on our anniversary. I wanted to give her some gifts and dig her guts out before meeting Royale to debrief him on the information I’d gathered on his new wife’s ex-fiancé. His ass had snatched up somebody’s girl. I didn’t agree with it at first because of who she was attached to, but Royale was my best friend. He was my brother. He’d had my back more times than I could count. It was because of him that I was even in this position. Not to mention the guilt I held for what Samara and Ihad done. I would always ride with him first and ask questions later. I owed him that.

Stopping by Samara’s was supposed to be a quick detour. I ain’t expect her ass to not be at home, especially when her location pinged from her apartment complex. One call to her security and I was informed she had been spending a lot of time in an apartment that wasn’t hers with a nigga that wasn’t me. That shit had my skin boiling. We weren’t in an official relationship, and our marriage was only an arrangement, but Samara knew she was mine. She knew I didn’t play that entertaining other niggas shit.

“Samara not joining us tonight?” Fabian questioned. His head glanced toward the door.

“Nope.”

“Should I make sure she gets home safe?”

“Yeah, she will probably go to Rebecca’s, though. Let me know when she’s made it.”

We stepped onto the elevator. If Samara was mad at me, she wouldn’t go straight home. She needed to go somewhere she could talk shit about me. Fabian got on his phone to coordinate with Samara’s security. He was my driver but doubled as head of security for the entire cartel. Besides Polo and Royale, he was the only nigga I trusted. His mom was my dad’s sister. After my pop was killed, I started reaching out to his Haitian family just to feel closer to him. Fabian was the first one to contact me back and we grew close from there. When I took over the cartel, I moved him here. He ain’t have shit going on back in Haiti, so I pulled him in and gave him a job. I had the means to help him, so I did. Fabian was smart and calculated as shit, plus he looked like a chauffeur and not a gang member. Incognito was the name of the game.

That was how I had things set up, so the people around me and I could stay hidden. Only the people who did business with me knew I was a caporegime of the London Cartel. Though therewere whispers and speculation about me, most people thought I was just a wealthy business owner. Because of my size, strangers assumed I was a professional football player. The fewer people knew about me, the better.

Security is on it,” Fabian informed me.

“Good.”

He stepped onto the elevator, and the doors closed. No matter what was going on between Samara and me, I would always make sure she was safe and secure. She was not only my wife but also my best friend’s little sister. I owed her my loyalty, even if she acted like she ain’t want it.

“You want to talk about it?”

My eyes shot up to Fabian. He was the only person outside of Mr. London who knew about my arranged marriage with Samara. He was also the only person who knew we’d crossed the line of that arrangement.

“Nah.” I shook my head. There was nothing to discuss. Samara had me fucked up talking about she didn’t love a nigga. She did. She wasn’t ready to admit it yet, and that hurt. I got it. A lot came with loving a gangster nigga. When she looked at me, she saw her father and the lifestyle she’d spent her entire life trying to escape.

“I’m not the best when it comes to women.”

“You think?” I blurted. Fabian had four kids and three baby mamas. Waving me off, he continued.

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