After a few moments, he nodded. “Understood. Family doesn’t always mean blood. First, I win you over, then them.”
I smiled. “Let’s see if we can make it beyond friends. As I said, I’m not making any promises.”
“Challenge accepted.” Luke lifted his wineglass in my direction, and for the first time in a long time, I felt lighter. “How about we start our date now?”
“I wish I could. I still have a full day of work ahead of me, and then I promised my mom that I’d spend the evening helping her pack for her trip to the BVI.” I picked up my glass of water and sipped. “How about tomorrow night?”
“It’s a date.” He smiled at me again. “An official one.”
A little before six in the evening, I took the exit ramp off Interstate 95 and headed in the direction that would lead me toward the upscale neighborhood where my mother lived. After my lunch with Luke, I’d met with the staffing specialist for my nightclub and then spent most of the rest of my day in meetings going over the possible expansion of the Ladai Room clubs.
I’d had to make it clear to a few overzealous and pushy developers that I was not now nor ever interested in their help in managing my venture.
Condescending fuckers.
People assumed because I was a woman who’d grown up in a supposed ivory tower that I had no idea how the fight world worked. What they seemed to forget was that I’d learned everything I knew from the best.
The King brothers.
Specifically, from Kiran.
At a young age, Kir had lost his parents in a tragic accident and fallen through the cracks of the foster care system, ending up on the streets and running with a gang. A gang led by his brother, Nik. The gang had become his family, teaching him how to survive and use his fists.
By the time he was a teen, he’d started organizing underground matches as a way to make extra money and never stopped. For him, it was a way to bond with those around him.
When we’d first met, Kir had done everything to show me he wasn’t the man for me. He would play up the dirty side of his life and get into the cage more often than necessary, thinking it would send me screaming. What he hadn’t realized was that seeing the raw strength in him turned me on more than the intended repulsion he expected. The pampered princess box he kept trying to shove me into never seemed to fit, and then, the day I least expected it, he claimed me as his.
Eventually, I was the one scoping out the underground locations and setting up the matches. Kir only posed as the face since it made it easier to gain credibility and a higher purse.
Yep, it was misogynistic as hell, but that was how I had to play the game. And it was easier to manipulate the assholes into doing what I wanted than to always get in their face and fight with them.
By the time Kir and I’d married, everyone in our inner circle knew and accepted I was the one who ran the operation.
Kir would jokingly say I was the brains, and he was the brawn. We were the perfect partnership. He never questioned my business sense. In fact, he seemed relieved to have no part in it. In contrast, I loved to have my hands in everything.
I smiled.
Wow. I’d actually thought of Kir without any pangs of pain.
Maybe the universe and Dillon weren’t fucking with me after all.
It was time to move on.
Even Dillon’s mother, Kir’s Tia Martha, told me to dip my toes in the dating pond when she’d stopped by the club this afternoon. She’d gone as far as to insist I let her set me up with a “nice” boy she knew.
I should find comfort knowing I had the support of Kir’s extended family. They knew I’d loved Kir with all my heart and would always cherish our time together.
When I’d first met Kir, and we’d become serious, he’d flown me down to Miami to meet his family. A family he’d only learned about after his adoption. They were a true cultural blend of Puerto Ricans, Indian-Guyanese, and Americans. Most of the older generation lived within miles of each other, and they knew everyone’s business.
Kir’s parents hadn’t had a star-crossed love story like Kir and I’d had. They’d both been immigrants, his father from Puerto Rico, his mother from Guyana. They’d met at work, fallen in love, married, and then had Kir. The only tragedy was that shortly after moving to New York for work, they’d both died in a bus accident, sending Kir into the foster care system. A system he’d run from and eventually forced him into the world that brought him to the doorstep of his adoptive father, Arin King.
Kir and Luke were polar opposites. That was probably a good thing. And since Luke lived in New York and only came down to Miami every few weeks or so, I knew it could be a fun fling, no commitments or long-term anything. One all-consuming love was good enough for this lifetime.
Horns blared around me as a truck ran a red, and I slammed on the brakes, causing my tires to screech.
“Fuck. Damn Miami drivers,” I shouted, smacking my hand against the steering wheel, and then laughed.
Who was I kidding?
New York City drivers were the worst. The number of times I’d nearly gotten run over by cabbies were too many to count.
My phone rang to the distinct tone of Queen B’s song “Run the World,” telling me it was Danika.
She probably wanted an update on the project. I’d blown through the assignment she’d given me and then worked on some personal business dealings. The skills I learned under Danika’s tutelage came in handy on a regular basis, specifically when applied to keeping certain aspects of my businesses hidden from prying eyes.
By working in a business dominated by men, they always wanted to know what I was doing and poked their noses in places where they didn’t belong. Keeping my information protected under layers upon layers of what Danika and I like to call cyber red tape kept the assholes of the world at bay.
Pressing a button on the console, I answered, “Hey, lady, how’s it going? Did you see I finished the project? Got something else for me? If you do, I’ll overnight you a case of Firewater.”
Danika was obsessed with whiskey, and I had exclusive distribution rights for one of her favorite brands, Firewater. It was an elderflower-infused spirit created by a friend of mine, that went for nearly a thousand dollars an ounce depending on the bottling.
“Jay, stop talking and listen. I need you to get off the road now.” The panic in Danika’s voice had my heartbeat accelerating.
The last time I’d received a call like this, she told me Kir had been in an accident.
“What’s going on?”
“Find somewhere safe until I can send security.”
I looked around me to see if I could spot my personal detail. They were always with me.
Since the moment I’d gotten together with Kir, I’d had personal security. Kir’s role in King Holdings caused people to fear him or want to get to him before he could get to them. The best way to get his attention was through me, and therefore I had a detail with me at all times.
Initially, it annoyed me, but most of the time, I barely noticed them. They left me alone, and we were friendly to the point one could be friends with people who liked to be invisible.
Where the fuck were they? They should have tagged me by now. They were supposed to be the best.
“Dani, I need more information. Besides, this is Miami. I can’t just pull over anywhere.”