Page 229 of Invisible Bars
“Hell if I know.”
Chi nodded. “Well, shid, forget about her. Focus on what just happened in there. This was your night… this wasy’all’snight.”
I nodded slowly, my thoughts lingering on the events that had just unfolded. “I know. It’s just?—”
“She stained a dress. That’s silk, my nigga; it can be replaced, no problem. But the way Naji carries herself? That kind of confidence? You can’t buy that.”
We shared a brief moment of levity, but Chi’s eyes narrowed, the seriousness creeping back in.
“But if she steps back outta line again,” he said quietly, glancing around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, “I already know you got the shovels lined up… and the ground picked out.”
I nodded.
“Damn right. And I ain’t afraid to get my suit dirty.”
Chi nodded in agreement, his face grave but understanding, reflecting the bond we shared as brothers in arms.
He lifted his glass. "To brotherhood. To power. And to women who challenge us and make grown men like us better.”
I grabbed a flute filled with champagne from a passing waiter, then lifted mine in salute. “I’ll drink to that.”
And we did… For Naji, the empire and the kind of love that didn’t just survive heat, it turned it into fire.
The black Maybach rolled silently through the city as I headed home. But my mind was roaring. I stared out the window, jaw locked.
Aaliyah had stepped over the line and tried to play with something sacred. I’d seen women like her before—drunk on likes, desperate for relevance, hiding insecurity behind highlighter and captions.
But that? That shit was different.
Aaliyah didn’t just come for Naji’s dress; she came for her presence. And if she had the nerve to do that in public, she might try something worse in private.
I tapped a finger against the armrest.
If she tried anything else—crossed that invisible line again? I would turn her entire digital empire to dust, erasing everything she had built with ruthless efficiency.
No warning. No conversation. Just silence, heavy and suffocating, accompanied by unforgiving consequences.
I pulled out my phone, tapped a note, and saved it under one word.
Aaliyah… strike one.
The house was silent when I stepped inside, and the lights dimmed to shadows. My footsteps were slow due to the alcohol that hummed low in my veins, but not enough to dull my focus. As I moved quietly through the familiar space, I assumed Naji was asleep—and upon glancing toward the bedroom, I realized I was right.
There she was—curled under the covers in nothing but a silk wrap. One leg was bent just above the knee, while her lips were slightly parted, a perfect blend of innocence and temptation. I didn’t dare speak or try to wake her with lightening; I simply stood at the doorway, transfixed, watching her breathe softly in the stillness.
A strange tightening in my chest unfolded—a visceral need, an unquenchable ache. It was not only for her body, which I craved, but also for the instinct to protect her. To shield her from the wickedness that lurked just outside our sanctuary.
I pulled off my jacket, then loosened my shirt to savor the moment. Kicking off my shoes, I moved with quiet intention, each step bringing me closer to her. Sliding into bed beside her, I felt the warmth radiating from her body and bare skin against hers, as the sheets rustled softly around us. I leaned in close, my lips brushing against her delicate neck, planting a slow, tender kiss that ignited a rush of desire. Naji stirred in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips, her breath catching momentarily.
I leaned even closer, my voice low and slightly slurred as I whispered against her skin, “Hold still.”
With gentle determination, my hand eased over her thigh, lifting it and positioning her just how I needed. Then I entered her slowly.
Naji gasped, not fully awake, but not resisting.
I closed my eyes as I sank deeper into her, every inch of her warmth dragging a groan from my throat.
“Damn,” I murmured.
