Page 12 of When a Soul Cries

But when something serious happened, neither of us played.

Kai knew one change in my voice meant the jokes were over. I knew one look in his eyes meant he needed his big brother, even if he would never say it aloud. When it came to our family, our business, or protecting each other, we moved as one.

Yasmine folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Sugga?”

“My mother.”

“That’s an interesting name.”

“Her real name is Irene Mae, but she hates when people use it. She likes to be called Sugga.”

Yasmine smiled. “And the groceries can’t be delivered?”

“They could.”

“But you’re going yourself?”

“When Sugga asks me to do something, I do it.”

Her expression softened. “I like that.”

I returned my phone to my pocket. “Are you ready to sign for your house, Ms. Reed?”

She looked around the living room one last time before holding out her hand.

“I am.”

We shook, but she let her fingers linger around mine.

“Call me later,” she said. “Maybe we can see each other without a house between us.”

“I don’t think so.”

Her smile faltered. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

I couldn’t.

I knew exactly what I looked like.

I stood six-foot-five with broad shoulders, a solid frame, and the kind of build that didn’t require me to live inside a gym to maintain it. My skin was deep brown, my beard stayed trimmed, and the waves beneath my low cut were always sharp. Tattoos covered both arms and stretched across my chest beneath my tailored shirts.

The third leg I was packing, complete with a curve, was a bonus.

My face had gotten me attention before the money ever did.

Even broke, I was that nigga.

Add the properties, cars, reputation, and a bank account with more zeros than most people would see in a lifetime, and women like Yasmine looked at me as if I were a prize they deserved simply because they wanted me.

I wasn’t arrogant.

I was aware.

I knew I was that nigga.

The difference was, I didn’t need anybody else to confirm it.

“I’ll have my assistant send over the final paperwork,” I told her.