Page 113 of Cuffed By Your Love
Next, we entered The Evidence Room—my fragrance studio. Obsidian walls, silhouettes of black queens and kings in gold leaf, strings of Edison bulbs melting everything into soft gold. Half-moon mixing tables wait with crystal beakers, bronze droppers, and lazy Susans labeled Base, Heart, and Top. The statement wall graffiti said:We mix. We glow. We carry our scent into the world.Under it, our house tagline:Mix Bold. Smell Black. Stay Legendary.
Elias leaned in, voice low at my ear. “Professor Gorgeous.” A smile curled in his tone. “You gonna grade my blend or curve me in front of my people?”
I tilt my head back against his shoulder. “You pass if you remember benzoin is not vanilla and patchouli ain’t cologne, my love.”
He smirked. “I love when you talk chemistry like it’s foreplay.”
“Sir.”
“It is.”
The family cackled. Yes, he said it out loud.
We rolled to The Holding Cell—my bath and body bar. Marble counters gleam under spotlights. Big apothecary jars of shea, cocoa butter, sugar scrubs, turmeric, oat, rose petals, lavender buds. There are tiny spoons and gold bowls, and everything looks like treasure waiting to be stirred. Quotes line the warm beige wall in hand-painted script:Self-care is not selfish.Rest is a right.Softness ain’t weakness.I didn’t make this just to sell products. I made it for the girls who were told survival is the only thing we get to be good at. Naw, to hell with that… We get softness too.
Leila drug her finger through a tester of my Self Defense butter (mango + kokum + vanilla bourbon) and sighed. “I’m not saying I want to lick my arm in public, but?—”
Jason covered her hand with his. “Finish that sentence, and we leaving.”
“I have private rooms for that,” I said sweet as iced tea.
Everyone howled.
And then we stepped into the hush of the Protective Custody Suites—private rooms washed in candlelight. Butter-yellow chaises with mocha pillows, floor-length drapes soft as a whisper, sound machines humming ocean or soft rain. One room is laid out for private parties where jewel-tone velvet benches gather around a long marble mixing counter. The other holds massage tables draped in white linen, diffusers sending small plumes of lavender into the air.
Mama’s hand slid into mine. “I remember when you slept on the couch with one eye open,” she whispered. “Look at you now, baby. Look at your peace.”
I could cry. I do a little. Then I inhale, put my owner hat back on, and pivot like I’m hosting the Oscars.
“Alright, y’all, make yourselves at home. We have hibiscus tea and cucumber water up front, playlists on shuffle—Aaliyah, Erykah Badu, and Sade slapped into a truce. If you break it, you bought it, and if you steal it, I got a fine ass detective on retainer.”
“On retainer?” Elias repeated, eyebrows up. “That’s what I am now?”
“My man, my muscle, my marketing,” I say, looking up at him, voice dropping. “And my peace… my everything, baby.”
His eyes do that thing, soft and fierce at the same time. He kissed my forehead. “Say less.”
Across the lobby, Chambers strolls in, balancing two pastry boxes like a peace treaty. Jazz is right behind him in a lemon-yellow jumpsuit, hair stacked like a crown. She catches her heel on EJ’s toy fire truck, and my heart leaps, but Chambers is already there, hand at her waist, steadying her.
“You good, beauty?” His voice is lower than usual. Careful.
She softens for a half-second, then rolls her eyes back into place. “I was till you started acting like chivalry got conditions.”
He swallows a smile. “You right. Lemme carry… whatever you need me to carry.”
Thewayhe says it has an echo. Jazz looked away first, palms slick on the pastry box like that man’s eyes just raised the temperature.
I’m rooting. And I’m loud with it.
I slide over like I’m minding my business and absolutely am not. “Hey, family. Chambers, come here. Give me your ear real quick.” I tug him to the side of the candle wall, out of the flow.
He’s blinking like he’s already in trouble. “What I do, sis?”
“Younotdoing, brother,” I whisper. “That woman is on your team. Stop acting like you don’t know the play. She wants you,andshe wants you to step the hell up before somebody else with matching energy does. You hear me?”
He drags a hand over his face, exhaling. “I don’t wanna fumble her, Nay. I’m not her ex?—”
“And nobody said you were. But hesitationreads likefear. Unearned fear, at that. You want her? Move. Claim her with kindness, not control. But move.”
