Page 69 of Full Court Press

“Evening, Ms. Kiyanne. Evening, Mr. Grey.”

“Hi, Mr. Ty!”

“Good evening, Ty,” I replied.

“Hiii!” Both Kiy and I paused, seeing Anais already in the back of my car.

Anais Wellington.

Daughter of Orlando Wellington, the owner of the Detroit Vipers, and the woman I had partially regretted proposing to.

Why?

Because I honestly didn’t see a future with her. She wasn’t the woman I had chosen as my queen.

That woman was probably somewhere living her best journalist life.

I wouldn’t say Anais wasn’t marriage material, but her bougie ways often rubbed people the wrong way—people being the one person whose approval mattered.

My baby girl.

When I first met her six years ago, I could tell she was a little spoiled. She had every right to be since her father owned an NBA team. I didn’t mind spoiling the women in my life. It was after I proposed to her that the spoiled turned into entitlement, became the highlight of every front-page newspaper, and had me second-guessing even asking her to marry me.

I liked my privacy.

Anyone who knew me or was close to me knew I kept my personal life separate from my business life. I was okay with people knowing about the proposal, but I didn’t agree with the aftermath.

Two days after I proposed, Anais had me meet with a wedding planner to pick out venues, caterers, and colors.

I literally had to tell her to slow down because I hadn’t even told my family yet, and the next day after I told her that, she went on the Brandy Lemon Show, announcing our engagement.

My mother and Nana were furious, to say the least. They did nothing to hide their disdain for her and let it be known that they didn’t like or trust her.

Not to mention, I didn’t think Kiyanne was feeling her either, and I believed the feeling was mutual.

Neither Kiy nor Anais said anything to make me believe there was bad blood, and I’d asked Kiy how she felt, and she said she was okay with us being together.

I was keeping my eye on the situation. If Anais gave me any vibes that she didn’t fuck with my daughter, she would get kicked to the curb quickly.

“Hi, Anais,” Kiy greeted blandly.

“Ms. Anais,” I corrected her.

“Sorry. Ms. Anais.”

I smirked a little and shook my head while sliding in behind Kiy.

“Nice outfit. You didn’t like the Balenciaga gown your dad got for you?”

“I try not to make it a habit of wearing brands I can’t even pronounce yet.” The snark in Kiyanne’s tone surprised me—slightly. I looked down at her with a slight frown.

“You wear brands you can’t pronounce all the time, Kiy.”

“I know, but I said I try not to make it a habit.” She shrugged.

“That’s fair.” Anais smiled at her. “But tonight is a special night for your dad. The dress would have befitted the moment, no?”

“Yes, but he gives me freedom of choice. So I chose this. I think I’m representing him in the perfect way, no?” The underlying sarcasm, tone, and flat smile on Kiy’s face definitely gave me the vibe that she had lied to me.