Page 157 of Vega

Dior almost broke his neck, whipping his eyes towards me. “Baby?!”

I ignored Dior and told Vega, “I’ll eat in a minute.” Now, I was too excited to feed my hunger pangs.

I dragged Dior to the couch and pulled him down beside me. Vega watched us for a second, and he smiled with satisfaction.

“I’ll be in the bedroom,” he said. “Y’all catch up.”

I looked up at him. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I know.” His eyes held mine. “But you need this.”

Then he walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, Dior grabbed both my hands. “Girl!”

“I know!”

“No, because the tea is hotter in person.” He pointed toward the bedroom. “That man is fine as hell, rude as fuck, and built like he got a beef with shirts. I’m gagged. I’m concerned, but I’m gagged.”

I fell back against the couch, laughing while swooning. “He is fine, right?”

“Fine?” Dior leaned closer. “Sonnet, that nigga got a felony aura, and those eyes… Mother sees the vision.”

“Dior!” I giggled.

“He got that toxic combination. Very much problematic. Very much don’t call the police but call the fucking police!”

I laughed harder, wiping under my eyes because I was crying with laughter. “I missed you so much.”

He smiled genuinely. “I missed you too.”

I leaned into him, and he pulled me close. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t the target or the woman Vega was trying to keep alive. I was just Sonnet again, sitting beside the one person who had known me before my life turned into blood, secrets, and men with guns.

Dior rubbed my arm. “Now talk. Don’t skip shit. I need the full report.”

So, I told him. I told him about seeing Roman kill Donovan. I told him about Vega kidnapping me, and how hate for Vega had turned into something I still didn’t know how to explain without sounding crazy. I told him about the house, the shooting, Lowe getting hit, the hospital, the hotel, and how I was tired of being loved inside rooms I couldn’t leave.

Then I told him I wasn’t a virgin anymore.

Dior stared at me. Then he looked toward the bedroom door. “You better not be.”

“Dior!”

“Be so for real. You been locked up with that man for over a month, and he look like that? Girl, I would’ve been disappointed in you.”

I shoved his arm. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re no longer pure. That’s growth.”

“Shut up,” I giggled.

“No, because I know you. You probably gave him a speech first. You probably had terms and conditions.”

“I did not.”

He gave me a look.

I sighed. “I swear.”