Page 92 of Heavy Is The Crown

“Nah, hell nah.” Kenyatta backed up, hand out. “We ain’t doing this.”

Musa huffed again, seemingly satisfied with himself before flopping right back down onto the floor like nothing happened.

Kenyatta shook his head, still smirking as he went back to the counter to pour his coffee. This damn dog had too much personality.

That’s when he heard the soft sound of her feet.

She walked in.

He wasn’t ready.

Musa perked up immediately, his tail thumping against the floor as his gaze followed Krys. She barely hesitated, moving with the same quiet dominance that ruled everything she touched. Barefoot but still commanding the space.

That oversized silk robe draped over her frame, the strap tied just tight enough to hint at everything underneath.

Unbothered. Untouchable.

Musa, always aware, let out a soft snort before flopping his head back down, clearly at ease. He already knew this wasn’t his business.

Krys barely looked Kenyatta’s way, heading straight for the espresso machine like he wasn’t even standing there. As if he was part of the furniture.

Oh, that’s how we playing it?

Kenyatta leaned against the counter, watching her. She was too controlled. Too intentional in not acknowledging him. That only made him wanna fuck with her.

Musa groaned softly, as if he could already sense where this was going.

“You sleep okay?” she asked, her voice casual as hell, eyes locked on her coffee.

Kenyatta exhaled, watching her instead of answering right away. “Yeah. You?”

She still didn’t look at him. “Mmhmm.” She took a slow sip, the kind that said this conversation was already over.

But he wasn’t letting it go.

Silence lingered. Thick. Not uncomfortable. Charged.

Musa rolled onto his side with a sigh, clearly over it.

Kenyatta had to. “You always be sneaking off into your office this early?”

She froze. Not visibly. Not in a way anyone else would have caught. But he caught it: her grip on the coffee mug. The slight pause in her breath.

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Musa’s head lifted slightly, his dark eyes flicking between them, reading the energy shift in the room.

She recovered quick, eyes flicking to Kenyatta, expression blank. “I run two businesses, Yatta. My mornings start early.”

Kenyatta hummed, tilting his head.

Unconvinced.

Musa yawned, smacking his lips before dropping his head back down onto his paws, his massive body stretched out like he was getting comfortable for the long game.

She was good at what she did, but she wasn’t as smooth as she thought. He knew what a deflection looked like.

She never let anyone in. And after last night, she was terrified that she already had.

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