Page 3 of Bodyguard My Heart

“Besides, when you get married, Mara, that shit needs to be special. Ro gon’ want to be walking you down the aisle, and a nigga trying to be a groomsman.” He came to a red light, and his eyes met mine again. “It ain’t gon’ be like this. You deserve more.”

My mouth opened and closed, trying to find the right words. I understood what he was saying, and I would still have all of those things, but this needed to happen for Royale. He’d done so many things for me. This was the least I could do for him.

“Royale finishes medical school in ten months. He’ll be able to practice as a surgeon in a year or two. I know he has been talking yo’ ear off about it because he has damn sure been talking mine off.”

Meechie dropped his head briefly before returning his eyes to the road.

“Yeah, he’s been yapping about shit I don’t understand since he enrolled. That nigga happier than a motherfucker.”

“He is.” I agreed.

“I’m proud of him. Niggas like us are expected to be gangsters. Nobody sees a different path for us. My nigga is making his own lane, and I fuck with it.” He pulled the car into a small parking lot. I didn’t recognize the building but was happy he’d pulled over. I didn’t need us to end up in the back of somebody the way he was driving.

“I’m proud of him too. That’s why I want to do this for Royale. I swore my father to secrecy. Royale will never find out. In five years, we divorce, the cartel is yours, and Royale’s a plastic surgeon. It’s a win-win situation.” I smiled. I was giving my best pitch.

I stared at him, trying to figure out what was going through his head. He said nothing, just stared into space, swiping his hand through his beard.

“What about you? What do you get out of this?” He stared at me, his beautiful, hooded eyes gazing into my soul. I hadn’t thought about me at all—just my brother.

“A chance to not be a mafia princess, I guess.” I shrugged.

“You’ll be a Capo’s wife, Samara.”

“This is true, but only on paper, Demetrius.” I smirked. Our eyes lingered on each other longer than they should have before he turned his head.

“Why do you do that?” he questioned.

“Do what?”

“Call me Demetrius when everyone else calls me Meechie.”

Again, his eyes were on me, burning a hole through my skin. Calling him Demetrius had started when I was a little kid, crushing on my brother’s best friend. It was how I let the neighborhood girls know we were not the same. I was on a first-name basis with the guy they all wanted. I didn’t know why it continued long after the crush was over. Just being a brat, I guess. I would never admit that to him or anyone else, though.

“Is that not your name?” I shot back, pulling my eyes away from him. “I call everyone by their name,” I lied.

“You don’t do it when Ro is around. Then it’s Meechie,” he replied. He was still looking at me. I could feel it. I couldn’t call him Demetrius around Royale. He would for sure call me out about it.

“I do?” I tried my best to act oblivious.

“You do,” he replied.

“Where are we anyway?” I needed to change the subject. Demetrius’s gaze lingered on me, making me feel a way I knew I shouldn’t. He scanned the length of my body before looking at the building in front of us.

“Picking you out a ring.” He pointed to a sign on the street corner in front of the building.

“Wildwood Diamonds.” I read the sign out loud. “You serious?”

“I guess I am.” He shrugged.

“I don’t need a ring, though.”

“You don’t, but you deserve one. Fake, on paper, or whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

I exhaled the breath I had been holding. I couldn’t believe that I’d actually convinced him to do this.

“We’ll have to do business trips together,” I blurted.

“I’m aware.”

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