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Looked at the drawing.

A man.

Strong jaw. Light brown and green eyes.

I stared at it longer than I should have.

Is that me?

“Come on, bro!” Zay shouted.

I tucked the sketch pad under my arm and walked back to the car.

“Drop me at my office. I need to see Marcel.”

We rode back in silence. I thought he was going to ask me about what Azaria said about us, but he didn’t.

All I knew was this.

My future bride was an addict.

And Marcel had some explaining to do about the Laveaus letting their prized possession fall into drugs and trauma.

Zay pulled up to my glass building.

“I’m getting her right,” he said. “Not for you. For her. I can’t see her dead out here.”

I nodded. “I hear you. We’ll talk.”

We dapped up.

I stepped out and tossed the sketch pad back onto the seat.

Inside my office, I called my pilot.

“Get the jet ready. I’m flying to France tonight.”

“Storm over Marseille. Grounded for twenty-two hours.”

I stared out the window at the city lights.

Then I called Naomi.

Because I couldn’t fly.

And I damn sure wasn’t sitting alone with this.

However, as I waited for Naomi to give me an answer, I thought about my night in Vegas with Azaria…

CHAPTER 3

Ares (Six Years Ago)

“The Only One Who Walked Away”

Iknew her before I ever had her. Back when she was Zay’s little sister, moving like she already had status, Azaria Wells had a mouth on her. She always did. She disrespected people for fun, especially niggas like me. Rich, older, and had been around too long. I used to see her in rooms we weren’t supposed to share with liquor in her hand and her eyes low. She would look at me, take her time, then say something slick. I never checked her or told her to watch her mouth because I knew it was more than talk between us, even back then.

That night in Vegas was supposed to be quick. It was two days after my birthday, Taurus season, and I had turned thirty. All I wanted around me was money, liquor, and whatever woman chose to be there. That was the plan until I walked into the club and saw her.