Page 128 of Lennox Lane

Lennox chuckled. “I see you’re still reading people for sport.”

“Only when they make it easy.”

A tall, handsome man rose from the sofa. Broad shoulders, warm brown skin, and quiet confidence. Lennox stepped toward him first, dapping him up with easy familiarity.

“James.”

“Ledger.” James pulled him into a brief hug with a clap on the back. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too.”

A curvy woman with soft eyes and a smile that felt like warm blueberry muffins stood next. Her beauty was gentle but not fragile. The kind that invited comfort and still warned people not to mistake softness for weakness. Lennox hugged her warmly.

“Amiyah.”

“Hey, Lennox.” She squeezed him before stepping back, her gaze moving toward Lane with immediate kindness. “And this must be Lane.”

Lennox returned to Lane’s side, one hand settling at her lower back. “Lane Sanders, this is Calla Black, also known as The Black Dahlia. This is James Carter Jr., and this is Amiyah Patterson. Her lovers.”

Lane smiled, hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. “It’s nice to meet y’all.”

Amiyah’s face softened. “You’re beautiful.”

James nodded. “Lennox didn’t exaggerate.”

Lane’s cheeks warmed. “That’s rare for him.”

“About you?” Calla said, walking closer. “I doubt it.”

Lane looked at her.

Calla stopped just in front of her, close enough for Lane to catch the faint floral note of her perfume. Her eyes were sharp, dark, and assessing, but not unkind. It felt less like being studied and more like being recognized.

Calla tilted her head. “What do you get when you have dahlias and lavender?”

Lane’s breath caught.

Calla’s smile was slow. “Grace and elegance.”

The words were spoken softly, but Lane felt them everywhere. Her face heated so fast she almost looked away. Almost. Calla’s closeness didn’t feel invasive. It felt intentional, like the woman knew exactly how powerful she was and had decided to make that power gentle for Lane’s sake.

“Grace and elegance,” Lane repeated, voice quieter than she intended.

Calla touched her hand lightly, then stepped back. “Come sit. Lennox has been telling me just enough about you to make me curious and not enough to get himself in trouble.”

Lane looked at Lennox. “Look at you respecting boundaries when I’m not around.”

“I’m consistent now.”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

James laughed as they all took seats around the low table. Lennox sat beside Lane but gave her enough room to decide how close she wanted to be. Naturally, his hand still found her knee beneath the robe because the man had a medical condition called contact or die.

Lane didn’t move away.

Amiyah poured sparkling water and offered champagne. Lane accepted water, still wanting her senses clear enough to absorb the room. They talked first about easy things. Olive and Oak. Knox’s lamb. Dana’s wine. Winston Hills. Nova’s upcoming album. Calla asked about The Full Plate Project with genuine interest, and Lane found herself explaining the grocery-style market build-out—the quarterly funding. The staff raises and the way access mattered more than aesthetics when feeding people who relied on bus lines, sidewalks, and dignity.

Calla watched as if she was taking in art.