Grip Trilogy Box Set

Her lips concede a smile before leveling out.

“Grip, Ms. Mittie said come on!” Amir’s voice reaches us just before the door opens and he appears, flicking a surprised glance between Bristol and me. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in here, Bristol.”

“It’s okay.” She smooths her hair. “I was just going. I assume you’re in for chicken and waffles?”

“Best believe it.” He grins a little uneasily, still not sure what he walked in on. “You coming?”

“No, I need to go,” she says, glancing at her watch.

“Parker waiting for you?” I ask grimly. The thought of him at her house, in her bed, or her in some penthouse with him, erases the goodwill of the last few moments.

“No.” She looks back over her shoulder, one brow lifted at the return of my censure. “He’s still in India.”

She makes her way to the door, stopping to give Amir a hug. He’s one of those few she loves. They couldn’t be more different, but they get each other. In the beginning, I was their common denominator, but they’ve formed their own friendship over the years.

“Your passport is current, right?” She pulls out of the hug and pats the side of his face affectionately. “You ready for Dubai?”

“More than ready.” Amir rubs his hands together. “I hear they got some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.”

“I have a feeling you’re not talking about the landscape.” She laughs and heads for the door. “Sarah will get you all the details.”

“Hey, Bris,” I say.

She turns to me, the ease she shared with Amir evaporating as she waits for me to finish. “Speaking of Sarah, why don’t you let her reach out to Hector?”

“Sarah?” She frowns, but nods. “Okay. Why?”

I could tell her that soon Sarah will be handling all of my day-to- day. Or I could tell Bristol that Hector has a thing for her, and I don’t like guys who have a thing for her.

“Why not?” I counter, since we don’t already have enough to argue about.

“Because it’s my job.” She rests a fist on either hip. “Because I’m usually the first point of contact, and—”

“How did Rhyson put it earlier?” I touch my chin and glance up at the ceiling like I’m trying to remember. “Oh, yeah. If this is your job then I’m your boss, and because I said so.”

That goes over about as well as it did when Rhyson said it, but the irritation clouding her expression when she leaves is better than what we were feeling before Amir came in. A bristly Bristol is safer than the vulnerable one who makes me want to kiss her and make her scream my name.

“So?” I grab my box of one-of-ten kind Jordans and head for the door, checking to see if Amir is following. “Chicken and waffles?”

Cha

pter 18

BRISTOL

ARE YOU THERE, God? It’s Bristol.

Please make it stop.

For the love of all that’s holy, if Qwest kisses him one more time, I’m breaking out my Dramamine. And the woman has a perfectly good, overstuffed leather seat. Must she perch on Grip’s knee the whole time? The poor man’s leg must be asleep by now. I mean, sure she’s small, but still . . . all that ass . . .

Whoever said traveling by private jet was “flying in style” was never trapped in close quarters with the hip-hop lovebirds, also known as Grip and Qwest, for sixteen hours.

They look great together. Perfect together. I get why their fans still have #GripzQueen trending and want more of them as a couple. It’s great. He’s moved on. He looks happy. She’s happy. Hell, even his mother is happy. In a small way, I helped orchestrate this. The least I can do is watch my handiwork unfold.

Only I can’t.

I pull my sleep mask over my eyes and lie back. I’ll just drift off into the darkness, take advantage of the quiet.