Page 44 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

Mecca scoffed and topped off my glass. “Well, bitch, you off the damn board now. No more playin’ house with a killer. No more, Mrs. Mosley.”

I let out a humorless chuckle, but my chest felt hollow. No more Mrs. Mosley. Six months ago, I would’ve laughed in somebody’s face if they told me I’d actually start to fall for Sebastian “Shooter” Mosley, that underneath all his possessive, controlling ways, there was something I started to love. Now, I didn’t even know what was real anymore. I took a slow sip of my wine, letting it warm my chest, but it didn’t do shit to calm the storm inside me.

Mecca side-eyed me. “I know that look.”

“What look?” I muttered, playing dumb.

“The ‘I’m still lowkey in love with this ain’t-shit-ass nigga’ look.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “Girl, shut up.”

“Nah, I’m serious. You might’ve run, but your heart ain’t caught up yet. I can see it all over your face. That nigga had you wide open, P. And that’s okay… for now. But you gotta let that shit go.”

I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of her words. “I know I do,” I admitted. “But it ain’t that easy.”

Mecca snorted. “Nobody said it was easy. That’s why you got me, hoe. I’m ‘bout to make sure you detox from that nigga.”

I laughed despite myself, shaking my head. “You so stupid.”

“And you so lucky to have me,” she shot back, grinning. “Now, let’s go over the plan. You stayin’ here for now, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I need time to figure shit out. I left the penthouse, blocked his number, and I know he’s probably losin’ his damn mind right now, but I don’t care. Ican’tcare.”

Mecca arched a brow. “Oh, you can care. You just won’t.”

I sighed. “Semantics.”

She smirked. “So what’s next? You gettin’ back into your fashion shit or what?”

I exhaled slowly. “Yeah… yeah, I think so. I put that dream on the back burner for too long.Parkmore Clothing Co.was supposed to be my thing. I lost focus for a while, but it’s time I get it back.”

Mecca’s eyes lit up. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout! See? That’s the energy I wanna hear. No more lettin’ these rich crime bosses dictate your future. You ‘bout to be a whole CEO, bitch.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You know, you really need to be somebody’s motivational speaker.”

“Girl, I know,” Mecca grinned. “I’d have these hoes' lives together in seconds.”

I finally started to relax, sinking into the comfort of knowing that Mecca had my back, that I wasn’t alone in this. I knew Shooter wasn’t gonna let me go that easy—hell, he’d probably already flipped over half the damn city looking for me. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had control over my own life again. The problem was, I wasn’t sure how long that control would last because, knowing Shooter… he was coming for me.

F o r t y - e i g h t h o u r s.

That’s how long it had been since I walked out of that penthouse and left Shooter behind. And honestly? I thought maybe he was giving me space. Maybe he knew I needed time to process. Maybe, for once in his controlling, possessive life, he was letting me breathe.

That’s why, when Mecca said she was throwing a little party at her spot tonight, I was all in. I needed to let loose, needed to drown the fucked-up reality of my life in liquor, weed, and loud-ass music. I needed to forget about blue eyes that haunted my dreams, about the way my body still craved a man I was trying to erase. So, with a red cup in hand, I danced in the middle of Mecca’s apartment while the bass of some ratchet song made the floor vibrate beneath my feet.

“Ayeeee, this my shit!” Mecca hollered, swaying her thick hips to the beat.

“Don’t hurt ‘em, sis!” Kalea cackled.

My girls were turned up, liquor was flowing, and the air was hazy with smoke. Wall to wall men. It was a vibe. A reckless, wild, I-don’t-give-a-fuck vibe. Which was exactly what I needed.

A fine-ass dude named Devonate had been on me all night, feeding me drinks and sweet-talking in my ear like he was trying to manifest me into his bed. Normally, I wasn’t the type to entertain dudes like this, especially not when I was drunk. But tonight? Tonight, I didn’t give a damn.

I threw my head back and laughed at something slick Devontae said, letting my body move against his as we danced. His big hands slid down to my waist, and I let him pull me closer. He smelled good, like expensive cologne and bad decisions.

“You mad beautiful, ma,” he murmured in my ear. “Your man stupid as hell for lettin’ you outta his sight.”

I smirked. “I don’t have a man.”

---