chapter Ⅶ

𝓰𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓮'𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓿

The drive to Michael's house is quiet, but not uncomfortable. I keep my eyes on the city lights blurring past the window, my mind still replaying Mama's words over and over.

That man ain't no good.

But how could she know that? How could she judge him without even knowing him?

I glance at Michael, his hands gripping the wheel, his jaw tight, lost in his own thoughts. A part of me wants to ask what he's thinking. Another part knows he wouldn't answer even if I did.

We pull up to a massive gated home-Havenhurst. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. The house is huge, too big for someone like him. But maybe that's the point.

Michael parks and steps out first, coming around to open the door for me. His hand lingers on my lower back as he guides me inside. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through me, but I say nothing.

His room is dark, the air thick with the scent of his cologne. I sit on the edge of the bed, my body suddenly feeling heavy. The weight of the night, of everything, crashes down on me.

Michael watches me for a moment, then kneels in front of me, his hands resting on my thighs. "Tell me what happened."

I swallow hard, blinking back the tears stinging my eyes. "Me and Mama... we got into it." My voice wavers, and I hate that I sound so weak. "She was mad I came home late... mad I was with you."

Michael doesn't flinch, but I see something shift in his expression.

"I told her it wasn't her business, but she just kept pushing... saying things." My breath catches in my throat. "I just- I couldn't take it anymore."

I shake my head, wiping at my face as the tears finally fall. Michael doesn't say anything. He just pulls me into his arms, his warmth wrapping around me like a shield. I let myself sink into him, let myself breathe him in.

"I got you," he murmurs against my hair. "Ain't gotta explain yourself to nobody."

His words settle deep in my chest, soothing something I didn't even realize was aching.

Before I know it, exhaustion takes over, and I drift off, safe in his arms.

When I wake up, the bed is empty.

The warmth from Michael's body is gone, replaced by the cool morning air. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room.

I sit up slowly, my body still heavy with sleep. The events of last night come rushing back, and for a moment, I wonder if I made the right choice coming here.

I push the thought away and stretch, my eyes wandering around the room. It's neat, almost too neat for a man like Michael. Dark furniture, sleek and expensive, nothing out of place.

Curiosity gets the best of me.

I stand up and walk toward the dresser, running my fingers along the surface. Then I spot a drawer slightly open.

I shouldn't.

But I do.

Inside, tucked beneath some papers and a leather wallet, is a gun.

My breath catches.

I stare at it, my fingers itching to touch it, but before I can, a voice behind me makes me jump.

"You always snoop through people's things?"

I spin around, heart racing.

Michael leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with a raised brow.

I swallow hard. "I-I wasn't doing anything."

He smirks. "Mmhmm."

I step back, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. He walks toward me, slow and deliberate, until he's close enough that I can smell the faint traces of his cologne.

He reaches past me, shutting the drawer without looking away.

Then, with a tilt of his head, he says, "Go eat. Breakfast's by the pool."

I hesitate, but he doesn't give me a choice. He turns me toward the door, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me out.

I sit by the pool, picking at the food on my plate while Michael eats without a care. The sun is bright, making the water sparkle, but I can't focus. My mind is still stuck on the gun.

Michael finishes eating and leans back in his chair, watching me.

"I got something to do in Santa Monica," he says casually, lighting a cigarette. "You stay here. Don't go wanderin' around."

I arch a brow. "You want me to just sit here and behave?"

He smirks, blowing out smoke. "Exactly."

I roll my eyes but say nothing.

Michael stands, running a hand through his curls. He looks at me one last time before heading inside.

And just like that, I'm left alone with my thoughts.

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𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚟

I step into my office, shutting the door behind me. Sunlight streams through the curtains, casting long shadows across the sleek black desk. I pull out a chair and sink into it, rubbing my temples. Giselle is still at the house, hopefully behaving, but my mind isn't on her right now.

It's on him.

Prince.

That bastard's been sniffing around South Cali, and I need to know why.

I pick up the phone and dial Eddie's number. He picks up on the second ring.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Get Cris and meet me in my office," I say, my voice low. "Now."

I hang up.

A few minutes later, the door swings open, and Eddie and Cris walk in. Eddie, always sharp, dressed clean, sits across from me with an easy confidence. Cris, rougher around the edges but just as reliable, leans against the desk, arms crossed.

"What's going on?" Eddie asks.

I lace my fingers together, resting my elbows on the desk. "Prince."

Cris exhales sharply. "Yeah... we been hearing some things."

I tilt my head. "Like what?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Word is, he's been asking about you. Not just in LA, but in the South. He's got people watching the ports, the streets... even some of the clubs."

I nod slowly, jaw tightening. "And?"

Cris shifts. "And he ain't just watching. He's talking to people. Low-level dealers, suppliers... trying to figure out how you moved up so quick."

My grip on the desk tightens.

Prince doesn't make moves without a reason. If he's sniffing around, it means one of two things-either he wants in, or he wants me out.

"What else?" I ask, voice controlled.

Eddie and Cris exchange a look.

"He's been meeting with some people in San Diego," Eddie finally says. "Cartel types."

I go still.

That isn't good.

Prince aligning himself with the cartel could be a problem-a big one. He already controls a lot up north. If he's trying to expand, I need to shut it down before it even starts.

I take a breath, leaning back in my chair. "Keep eyes on him. I wanna know everywhere he goes, everyone he talks to. If he sneezes, I wanna know about it."

Cris nods. "Got it."

Eddie watches me for a second. "You think he's gonna make a move?"

I look past them, out the window, at the city I built myself into.

"He already is."

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I sit on Michael's bed, legs crossed, staring at the phone in my hands. My heart is still racing from earlier-from finding that gun in his drawer, from the way he looked at me when he caught me snooping. But the way he held me last night, the way he made me feel safe... I don't know what to think.

I take a deep breath and dial Aaliyah's number.

It rings twice before she picks up. "Gigi?! Where the hell are you?"

I bite my lip. "I'm at Michael's."

Silence.

Then- "You're where?!! "

"At Michael's house."

"Giselle, are you insane? Your mom is pissed. And Solange-girl, she's been going crazy trying to find you."

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "I know, I know. Look, I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Tell Solange to come here. I need to talk to both of you."

Aaliyah hesitates. "Gigi, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Please, Liyah. Just trust me."

She sighs. "Fine. Text me the address."

I do, then hang up, my hands still trembling.

About thirty minutes later, I hear a knock on the door.

I rush over and open it, and there they are-Aaliyah, arms crossed, and Solange, looking like she's about to kill me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Solange snaps, pushing past me into the room. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? Mama was about to call the police!"

I close the door behind them. "I'm fine, Sol."

"No, you're not fine!" she yells. "You ran away from home and ended up here-with him!"

I sit on the bed and take a deep breath. "I'm not coming back home."

Solange's face falls. "What?"

"I'm not going back," I repeat, firmer this time. "I'm tired, Sol. I love Mama, but I can't do this anymore. I can't live under her rules, under her watch every second. She treats me like I'm a child, like I can't make my own choices."

Aaliyah sighs and sits beside me. "Gigi... are you sure about this?"

I nod. "Yes."

Solange shakes her head, pacing the room. "You're making a mistake. A big one."

"I don't care," I say softly. "This is my life, Sol."

She stares at me, her eyes full of frustration and something else-fear.

I reach for her hand. "I'm not cutting you off. You're my sister. I just... I need to do this."

She looks down, silent for a moment, then finally exhales sharply. "Fine. But don't expect me to lie to Mama."

I nod. "I wouldn't ask you to."

Aaliyah squeezes my shoulder. "Just be careful, okay?"

I give her a small smile. "I will."

The air in the room is thick with tension. Solange is still pacing, arms crossed, while Aaliyah sits beside me, chewing on her lip. I can tell she wants to say more, but she's holding back.

Then, just as I'm about to speak again-

The door swings open.

Michael steps in, his presence filling the space instantly. He looks at me first, his eyes scanning my face like he's checking to make sure I'm okay. Then, he notices Solange and Aaliyah, his expression turning unreadable.

"What's going on here?" he asks, voice calm but firm.

Solange turns on her heel to face him, her hands on her hips. "You."

Michael raises an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yeah, you." She steps closer, looking up at him despite the height difference. "I don't know what kinda game you're playing with my sister, but let me make something real clear-you hurt her, and I will find a way to make you pay."

Michael just smirks, shoving his hands into his pockets. "That so?"

"Yeah." She squares her shoulders. "I don't care how much money you got, or how many people work for you-I'm not scared of you."

Aaliyah looks between them, clearly uncomfortable. "Sol..."

But Solange isn't done. She jabs a finger at his chest. "You take care of her. For real. Not just with gifts and fancy cars-really take care of her. Because if you don't, I swear to God, Michael, I will make your life hell."

Michael stares at her for a moment, then glances at me. His expression softens just a little before he looks back at Solange.

"You got a lot of fight in you," he says, a little amused. "I respect that."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't need your respect. I just need you to understand."

Michael nods slowly, then looks at me again. "You good, baby?"

I swallow hard and nod.

His smirk returns. "Good." Then he looks back at Solange. "You done?"

She glares at him but doesn't say anything else.

Michael chuckles and shakes his head. "Y'all need a ride home?"

Solange scoffs. "We'll walk." She turns to me, her face serious. "Think about what I said, Gigi."

I nod. "I will."

Aaliyah gives me a quick hug, and then they both leave.

As soon as the door closes, Michael sighs, running a hand through his curls. "Damn, your sister's a firecracker."

I cross my arms. "She just cares about me."

His smirk softens into something more genuine. "I know." He steps closer, tilting my chin up with his fingers. "And she's right about one thing-I am gonna take care of you."

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will michael present gigi to marlon and toyaaaaa

will seee, stay tuned