Page 10 of Make Me Your Hitta

I shook my head, banishing those dangerous thoughts. “Anyway, enough about my grumpy ass bodyguard. Tell me something good, Mara. I need a juicy distraction.”

“You know you called the right one for that.”

As Damara launched into a story, I caught Adonis’s gaze. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of… hurt? Regret? But then it was replaced by his usual melanated mask of indifference. I turned away, Damara’s voice fading to background noise as my mind whirled. What game were we playing, Adonis and me? More importantly, which of us would emerge as the victor, and what would become of the loser?

Damara’s voice cut through my swirling thoughts, laced with a teasing upswing in her tone. “Oh, come on, Nobi. Tell the truth. You weren’t even listening to anything I just said. You were thinking about him, weren’t you? You can’t fool me. All this complaining about Adonis? Sounds like somebody’s still got a little crush.”

I nearly choked on my spit. “What? No. Is your latte laced with crack? That’s ridiculous. He was Santo’s best friend, for God’s sake. And a pain in my fucking ass if you haven’t noticed.”

“Mm-hmm,” Damara hummed, unconvinced. “Whatever lies you tell yourself are between you and God, honey. But I’ve known you too long. You complain too damn much about somebody you claim you don’t care about.”

I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me. “Whatever, Mara. You’re delusional if you think I’m thinkin’ about that nigga.”

But her words had stirred something in my gut, a fluttery sensation I didn’t want to name. I glanced at Adonis again, taking in the thick beard wrapped around his chiseled jaw and the intensity in his soulless brown eyes. My thighs clenched.Dammit.

“Anyway,” I retorted with an eye roll, desperate to change the subject. “Tell me about that guy you met last week. Any updates?”

Damara laughed, a sound so carefree it made my heart ache. “Oh, girl. You should see him. Those tattooed arms, thatcocaine-white smile… I swear, if he weren’t so damn sweet, I’d think he was out of my league.”

I smiled, genuinely happy for her. “That’s great, Mara. You deserve it. I can hear you cheesing through the phone.”

I felt a pang of longing as she gushed about her new man. Not for her guy but for the freedom she had. The ability to date, to fall in love without the weight of family expectations crushing her soul with every breath.

We met in the distinguished halls of St. Mary’s Academy for Girls, where it was said that legacies were born and future leaders were bred. We were sixteen, which was a hard time to forge friendships—genuine ones, at least. Despite the dark shadows and rumors about my family’s affiliation with the mafia and my father’s ruthless reputation, Damara Thorpe didn’t shy away. She was my roommate and heir to her family’s financial empire, Thorpe Financial.

Like me, she was dressed in designer and had her future curated by her wealthy parents since she took her first breath. Though from different worlds, we understood what it meant to carry the weight of our family’s legacies. To escape, I found solace in art, while she found hers in literature and boys.

As the semesters stretched on, our connection strengthened. The Thorpe estate was the only place my father allowed me to go during spring breaks because Damara had bodyguards for protection. That didn’t stop us from spending the afternoons riding horses and sneaking out through the garden late at night to meet up with boys from the city.

Our friendship became the exception to the rule, sprouting an authentic connection that transcended my mafia ties and her financial wealth. She was the only one I could vent my frustrations to and the only one I trusted with my secret about my past with Adonis.

“God,I wish I could just… run far away sometimes, you know?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Just be normal for a day. No bodyguards, no family legacy. Just... plain ‘ol me.”

Her voice softened on the other end. “Oh, Nobi. I know, babe. But hey, maybe one day, right? We’ll take that girls’ trip we’ve always talked about. No mafia, no drama. Just us living our best lives.”

I managed to chuckle, but it was hollow. “Yeah, maybe. Someday. I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

As I hung up, the tension in my muscles returned. I caught Adonis’s gaze again, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of concern in those dark, brooding eyes. But then it was gone, and I was left wondering if I’d imagined it all.

I stabbed at my penne pasta, the fork scraping against the fine China with an irritating screech. Adonis sat across from me, quietly eating. As usual, my father was away on business and wouldn’t join us. The dining room felt too big and empty, amplifying every clink of silverware and frustrated sigh.

“So,” I paused, breaking the quiet, “did you enjoy eavesdropping on my conversation earlier today? Learn anything juicy about Damara’s new boo?”

Adonis’s eyes flickered up from his plate, his face emotionless. “I don’t eavesdrop, Xenobia. I observe. And for the record, I don’t give a fuck about your phone conversations.”

I scoffed. “Right. Because observing is so much better.” I jabbed at the pasta aggressively, red sauce splattering onto thefresh, white tablecloth. “Tell me, oh great observer, what deep insights have you collected about me today?”

He calmly set down his fork, his gaze steady. “You’re upset.”

I scoffed. “No shit, Sherlock,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “What gave it away? The sarcasm or the death glares?”

To my surprise, Adonis leaned forward slightly instead of bristling, his voice softening. “You want to know what happened six years ago but refuse to ask. You want to tell me to fuck off, but you can’t. Tell me, Nobi, why is that?”

His words hit too close to home, and I felt my walls rising. “Spare me the psychoanalysis, nigga. You don’t know shit about me.”

“Don’t I?” he challenged, and for a moment, his eyes held love in them. It knocked me off my square.

I pushed back my chair, its legs screeching against the floor. “You know what you’re paid to know. You’re not entitled to anything else. Not to get to know me, not to do that… that thing you’re doing. So just learn how to do your fucking job from a distance.”

---