Page 56 of The Don's Virgin Obsession
The fighting afterward.
The crying in bathrooms while Vaughn sat outside the door, high as fuck, trying to convince me we were still good together.
We couldn’t even create life right together.
That relationship drained the soul out of me.
And somehow, it drained him worse, because he broke up with me.
People saw Vaughn now and thought businessman. Luxury developer. Millionaire. The nigga on podcasts talking ownership and generational wealth.
They ain’t know three years ago he was doing lines in private bathrooms between business meetings.
Functioning addict ass nigga.
Cocaine. Adderall. Weed. Sex. Money. Work. Women. Vaughn always needed something running through him, so he didn’t have to sit with himself.
That was why I laughed when I found out about him obsessing over Sade.
At first, I thought she was another random woman. Another pretty girl for him to look at for a few weeks.
But nah.
This one was different.
I found out after hacking his phone a month ago he had been watching her for years.
I didn’t invade his privacy because I missed him.
Because I knew something changed. Vaughn moved different when he was mentally gone. Quieter. Meaner. Distant.
I knew him too well.
What I found in that phone made me lose respect for him immediately.
Saved pictures of her company page. Screenshots of her work. Her itineraries. Passwords. List of niggas she dated. Her Instagram searched so many times it looked pathetic.
A virgin interior designer got this nigga losing his mind.
I laughed just thinking about it.
Vaughn St. Clair. The same man that once fucked me so hard I threw a lamp at his head afterward because I found another bitch lip gloss in his car. The same man that told me love was a distraction.
Now obsessing over a woman that probably barely liked him.
Pathetic.
I grabbed my keys.
Nah.He wasn’t about to quietly cut me off while acting healed and reformed for some office bitch.
I needed my lick back.
By the time I pulled up to his penthouse downtown, I was already irritated again. His security knew me, unfortunately, so getting upstairs wasn’t hard.
He opened the door shirtless, tattoos, gray sweats hanging low on his waist.
Still fine.
