Page 15 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

I got in anyway.

Started the engine.

It coughed. Sputtered. Then caught.

I put it in reverse and backed down the driveway, past the wreckage of the gate, past the guard booth where the guard was still on the phone, probably calling the police.

I didn’t care.

Let them call.

Let them file a report.

Let them try to press charges.

I was Amai Landry.

And I didn’t answer to anyone.

But as I drove away from the Baptiste estate, my hands shaking on the steering wheel, my chest aching from the impact, my mind already calculating my next move?—

I knew one thing with absolute certainty:

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

Yahmaria had just made a threat against Truth.

And that was a mistake she would regret.

I just needed to figure out how to make her regret it without getting myself killed in the process.

The tow truck and my other car were waiting a mile from the Baptiste estate, but the pain settling into my chest had nothing to do with the crash. Yahmaria had threatened Truth. Winston had chosen the alliance. Victor had drawn his line.

And now I had no choice but to draw mine.

Chapter 2

TRUTH

The smell of hair products and hot combs hit me the moment I walked through the door.

The salon Raven worked at was small but immaculate—three styling chairs, two dryer stations, a shampoo bowl in the back, and walls covered in before-and-after photos of her work. The radio was playing Mary J. Blige, and two other stylists were working on clients, their conversations overlapping in that comfortable way salons had.

Raven looked up from her station and smiled when she saw me.

“Look who finally showed up,” she said, gesturing to the empty chair. “I was about to give your slot away.”

“I texted you that I was running late,” I said, settling into the chair.

“Five minutes late is late. Fifteen minutes late is disrespectful.” But she was smiling as she said it, already running her fingers through my hair, assessing what needed to be done.

I’d been dreading this appointment all week.

Not because I didn’t want my hair done—God knows I needed it—but because Raven had a way of reading me that made it impossible to hide anything.

And I had a lot to hide right now.