Page 230 of The Sweetest Return

“That sounds closer to the truth.”

I looked down at my bracelet, then back at her. “He feels like Dre again. But grown. He listens more. Says what he means more. Still thinks most problems exist so he can personally intimidate them into order, but…” I smiled a little. “He sees me.”

Nia’s face softened.

“And he’s amazing?”

“He is amazing.”

“I can see that.”

A small, unreasonable twinge slipped through me before I could dress it up.

Nia saw it and immediately shook her head.

“Girl, I mean amazing for you.”

My cheeks warmed. “I did not say anything.”

“You did not have to. Your face got expensive and hostile.”

I laughed.

“And yes,” she continued, “did I try to hit on him once? Absolutely.”

My head snapped back. “Nia.”

“He is tall, handsome, and former NFL. I am composed, not deceased.”

I laughed harder than I meant to, picturing it too easily. Dre standing there with that polite public smile, broad shoulders, beard, calm eyes, giving her absolutely nothing.

Nia smiled. “He stiff-armed me emotionally. Very respectful. Very humiliating.”

“That sounds like him.”

“It was effective.” Her humor softened. “And honestly, I was glad he did.”

That caught my attention.

“At the time, I was upset over something. Looking for a distraction with shoulders.” She lifted one shoulder. “Andre declined to be one.”

Her gaze moved across the room, and mine followed.

A large black-and-white family portrait hung above the marble fireplace. I had noticed it when I came in but had not studied it closely. An old Nocturne family, dressed in Black elegance that made wealth look inherited through discipline instead of noise. Satin. Pearls. Dark suits. Watch chains. Faces patient enough to make history behave.

Then I saw Saint Baptiste in the portrait, tall and dark beside the St. James family, his expression unreadable beneath the formal pose. Nia was staring too. Not openly, but enough.

“Seems you have your own amazing man,” I said.

Her face changed before she could stop it.

Sadness passed through her eyes so quickly someone less practiced might have missed it.

“No,” she said, turning back with a small smile that did not reach far. “No amazing man for me.”

“Nia—”

“But enough about me.” She picked up her pen and tapped the notebook. “Let’s talk about these diamonds and how The Nocturne can showcase them.”