Lo smirked then left the club to prepare for this meeting with his new girl.
Bria had performed in front of thousands. She had done techniques that were considered dangerous to her body but never had she been this nervous. Everything about this moment made her nauseous. Her stomach bubbled like boiling water as she got out the car. She looked down at her appearance, makingsure there was nothing out of place. Quickly, a valet came to retrieve her keys.
Bria took small steps toward the entrance, contemplating if making a run for it would be wise. That way she would avoid the pressure of being a stranger’s wife and get back to her regular program. As tempting as it was, Bria knew she had to take one for the team. Her father was making a transition to better pastures, and he couldn’t make that happen without her compliance.
Bria walked inside as jazz music floated in her ears. She noticed the host smiling at her as she approached. Doing a brief survey inside, she noticed there were no other patrons. Quickly, she pulled out her phone to check if this was the right location. After confirming it was, she peered at the hostess.
“Hello and welcome to The Fiftieth One. You must be Bria.”
She nodded.
“Great, your guest is waiting for you. I’ll take you upstairs.”
The anxiety amplified, making her legs tremble while trying to balance herself in five-inch heels. What if this man was ugly? What if he had bad breath? Would she be able to bypass all of his imperfections in the name of marriage? Bria wasn’t certain and she couldn’t make any promises.
I should’ve told Dad that I wasn’t ready…
No way could Bria live like her sisters. Tolerating their husbands like they were a treatable disease and acting as if they were in love when they pined for other men. Yeah, no, Bria wasn’t cut from fabric like that. She prayed to the heavens that this wouldn’t be a three-peat of her sisters’ lack of romance marriages. They walked through the main floor and up a set of stairs. When they reached the top, Bria stopped in her tracks.
There he was, sitting at a table with his head down. Assuming he was looking at his phone, Bria took a contemplative look at him. He was nothing like she imagined. In fact, he was the complete opposite of the image she had created in her mind. His toasted brown eyes peeled away from the phone and landed on her. Palpitations, labored breathing, and dancing butterflies in her belly were all in attendance of this silent exchange. Bria couldn’t read his face at all. It was impassive but danger flickered in his peepers. She should’ve been alarmed but instead, she was interested in what lied behind those irises of his.
Bria resumed her stride toward the table and approached it slowly. The hostess sat the menu down on the table then pulled out her chair. Bria was so engrossed in her silent analyzing of her beau that she didn’t realize the woman was waiting for her to take a seat.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She chuckled nervously, sitting down.
“Your waiter will be with you soon. Enjoy.”
Bria almost hated to see her go. She didn’t want to be alone with him while he stared a hole into her face. His eye contact was fierce. It made her sit up straight, hoping he collected a good reading on her. He reached his hand over the table. It was manly and covered with a tattoo that readCrown.
“Lo,” he said with a voice filled with all the masculinity in the world.
Carefully, she placed her hand inside his and shook it. “Bria.”
Lo withdrew his faster than she would have liked and leaned back in his seat. Again, his mysterious gaze went back to her, making her shift in her chair. His fade was sharply cut and adorned with velvety waves. Thick brows postured over his eyes that were lined with dense lashes. Lo’s copper skin emulated the glow of the sun. His full beard had length and was groomedto perfection. Everything about her soon-to-be-husband was beautiful to Bria.
“So, um…” She cleared her throat. “Is Lo your real name or…”
“Kylo.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “So, you're an underboss in Noir Mob?”
“Yeah.”
A subtle smile settled on her brown lips. She had hit the lottery in the draft for The Mob. Bria assumed Douglas had blown smoke up her ass, but he’d finally came through. Bria wouldn’t have to suffer with an associate or an errand boy as Cali like to put it. She was with a boss who possessed an aura of authority.
“So, um… this marriage. Are there things you expect from me?”
“Yeah.”
“Like what?”
Angling his head, he answered, “I expect you to listen to me.”
“Listen to you?” she repeated in a higher octave. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
His one-worded answers had started annoying her, but she remained poised.
