Page 12 of A Virgo's Muse
Santos stood dead center like he owned the place—black leather jacket, smug smirk, eyes that screamed vengeance, but hands that stayed real still.
“Didn’t think you’d show,” he said. His voice was low and sour like whiskey gone bad.
I walked in slowly with my shoulders loose and my black hoodie unzipped just enough to reveal the Glock at my waist. “You called. I figured you missed me.”
He laughed cold and short. “You’re a funny man, Onyx. Still cocky after putting my pops in the dirt?”
I tilted my head. “It was just business.”
Santos took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “That man raised me.”
“That man trafficked girls and cut deals with the Feds behind your back.” I shrugged. “Family ain’t always blood. You should be thanking me.”
His jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind. “You think that makes you righteous?”
“Nah.” I smirked. “Just better at cleaning up messes.”
“You really think this shit ends with him?” Santos growled, stepping into my space.
I met his eyes, calm and still. “If you need to stand behind his ghost to feel powerful, go ahead. But if you push me, if youreallypush me, I’ll send you where he’s at. No hesitation.”
He stared hard, but he didn’t move. That was the thing about men like Santos. They talked revenge but hesitated at execution. That was why he was still breathing, and his father wasn’t.
“If you keep poking the devil,” I muttered as I turned to leave, “eventually, he shows you hell.”
By the time I left the warehouse, my adrenaline had cooled into something else entirely, something softer, something that smelled like acrylic paint and vanilla incense.
Desire...
Desire didn’t just walk into my life; she shifted something in it… in me.
I’d spent years perfecting silence. I kept my circle tight, my face unreadable, and my heart untouched. But her presence cracked something open I didn’t even know I’d boarded shut.
She didn’t even have to ask questions. Just standing next to her made me want to confess shit I’d die with otherwise. It made me want to hand her the codes to every safe I had, walk herthrough every dollar I ever stacked, and reveal every scar I ever earned.
There was something about the way she carried herself. She was unapologetically soft and still strong as hell. That made me want to be seen for more than what I did in the dark. She made silence feel warm instead of cold.
Around her, I didn’t have to be Onyx the cleaner, the shadow, the ghost. I could just be. And that shit was dangerous in a whole new way.
So yeah, maybe it was impulsive, but I wanted to see her again. I needed to. I hit up my favorite Jamaican spot on Melrose. I got her oxtails, extra gravy, rice and peas, and steamed cabbage on the side. I had no idea if she was hungry or not, but something told me she’d appreciate the gesture. I stopped at a florist on Crenshaw and grabbed a mixed bouquet of sunflowers and blush peonies because she looked like the type of woman who didn’t want roses. She deserved something that felt like a warm day and fresh air.
I pulled up toMy Desiresright around 6:00 p.m. The lights were off, and the gate was halfway down. A handwritten sign taped to the front door read:
Closed for a mental health day.
I sat there for a minute with my engine humming. I wasn’t mad. Hell, she deserved a hundred days off with all the pressure she carried. Throughout my time sitting back and watching Desire, I picked up on the little things that the normal person wouldn’t. But still… something in me tightened.
I glanced at the passenger seat. The food was still hot and the flowers still fresh. My pride told me to just take my ass back home, but I’d already come this far.
I knew her address. I didn’t trust easily. I ran a background check the second I realized she was sticking in my head, not because I was suspicious. I needed to know if she was real, if this pull between us was real, if she was just a quiet woman with a loud soul.
She checked out. She was clean, private, kept to herself, and didn’t move weird. The only strange thing about her was how quickly she’d made space in my world without even asking.
That was how I found myself doing 85 in a 60, weaving through traffic like I had something to prove. When I pulled up outside of her apartment, I killed the engine and just sat there. Not gonna lie; I felt a little unhinged for showing up like this. But when it came to her, my logic had a habit of clocking out.
I grabbed the food and flowers, took the steps two at a time, and stood at her door. I raised my fist to knock… then hesitated. Was this too much? Well, too late now. I knocked twice. I knocked hard enough to be heard but soft enough not to scare her.
The door cracked open a few seconds later. Desire stood there in an oversized hoodie and socks on her feet. Her eyes were a little puffy like she’d either been crying or sleeping hard. Her hair was down. Curls spilled around her face like midnight fog. She blinked in surprise. She was not scared. Just… processing.
