8. London

Monroe was adjusting better than I thought she would. The last three days had gone by smoothly. All she wanted to do was get beautiful and explore the island, and I was finding joy in showing it to her. Every day that passed with her here in the villa confirmed that my impulsive decision to take her was the right one.

I pulled back a new layer of her damage each day. She was just starting to get out of the habit of asking me for permission. Monroe checked in with me about everything—what we would eat for dinner, where she should go, and how she should style her hair. Yesterday, she asked me if she could go out on the front porch. Her constant need to get every single decision approved showed me how damaged she was. It was so bad I made her swear to me that nigga hadn't been putting his hands on her. She said he hadn't, but physical abuse or not, the emotional and psychological abuse was apparent. It was even more reason why I was going to bury that nigga when it was time, and her father, too, for facilitating it.

"You gon' tell me what's really going on?" Aunt Vanessa interrupted my thoughts. I knew when she'd asked me to help take some things down to the shelter that she was going to bombard me with questions about Monroe.

"I don't know what you"re talking about." I shrugged as I placed the last box on the counter.

"Oh, you know, and you better get to talking." Her arms were folded across her chest and her neck rolled. She meant business.

"I needed a vacation… figured I'd bring a friend." I stared at her out of the corner of my eye. I was trying to gauge if that was satisfying enough.

"This not a vacation spot… lie again." She tapped her foot on the floor, causing me to feel like a little knuckle head boy again. I stared at her, trying to figure out how to tell her about Monroe. It was no use in lying. If she was questioning it, she already knew something was up. Like she said, this wasn't a vacation spot. This was my refuge.

"All right, so I'm helping Monroe out. She needed a place to stay for a while."

"And you brought her here? Out of the country?" She twisted the corners of her mouth as if to call my bluff.

"Yeah." I attempted to walk past her to the back door. The kids were outside shooting some hoops, and I had promised them a few games.

"Boy, if you don't cut the crap. Is that girl in trouble or something? Are you in trouble?"

Deciding to fill Aunt Vanessa in on everything, I took a seat next to her. Maybe she could shine some wisdom on the situation that Meechie and Polo couldn't.

"Monroe's family believes in arranged marriages. She was arranged to be married to someone that didn't mean her any good."

Aunt Vanessa sat up on the couch. Her mouth opened and shut.

"I'm offering her an out." I continued. "I brought her here to hide her from her fiancé and her father."

"Royale." She gasped. That probably wasn't what she was expecting me to say.

"I know Aunt V." I dropped my head.

"No, you don't know! How long have you known this girl?"

"A day longer than you."

"Royale, what the hell? Now I know your father and mother didn't set a great example, but are you crazy? You got better sense than to bring a girl you just met here. What if this is all a setup? And if it's not, do you know the consequences of interfering in something like that?" She was rightfully concerned. There were a lot of areas for concern.

"I considered all that, and I don't care. I couldn't leave her in that situation. He was going to force her to get work done on her body. The girl can barely decide for herself."

Aunt Vanessa sat back on the couch. Her fingers strummed her face.

"Do we know this family? Who's her father?"

"Jacob Iris, they're out of—"

"Bristol City." She finished my sentence, causing my head to spin in her direction.

"You know him?' I questioned.

"Yes, your father does, too." She said it calmly as if this revelation didn't have my head spinning.

"What? How?"

"There weren't that many black crime families back in the day. We liked to keep track of one another. Your father and I grew up with Jacob. I had a crush on him at one point, chile." She giggled at the last part before continuing. "Jacob was always so serious about his duty to his family business. It was honorable until it wasn't. The man didn't care who you were. If you went against the beliefs of the mafia, he would have you handled."

I listened to her speak about Monroe's father. I would have never guessed that she'd known him. This may have been the inside information I needed.

"If Monroe is his daughter, nephew, I hope you have a plan. That man will rage a war over tradition." Aunt Vanessa touched me on the knee.

"I had a plan, but the more I get to know Monroe, the less I want to go through with it." I dropped my head into my hands.

"What is it, Royale?" she asked. I wasn't scared of a lot of shit, but telling Aunt Vanessa what I had planned had me as nervous as a stripper on Easter Sunday. I stood from the couch putting a good distance between us. What I was about to say was no doubt about to get me slapped across the back of the head.

"The plan is to marry her," I blurted.

"Marry?" She stood from the couch.

"Yes, she can't be in an arranged marriage if she's already married."

Aunt Vanessa didn't say anything. She just stared at me dumbfounded.

"Are you sleeping with the girl?" That wasn't what I was expecting her to ask. I shook my head.

"No, but I ain't gon' sugarcoat it. I'm very attracted to her." She didn't need to know about me wrapping Monroe's thick thighs around my neck the day when I got her.

"Royale," was all she said as she rubbed her hand across her face.

"I know it's a lot, Auntie… but I can't let her go back to those people. I've never felt the urge to protect somebody so strongly before."

Aunt Vanessa approached me, placing her hand on my back.

"Aw, baby. You"re smitten with her." She was smiling. I didn't know if smitten was the right word, but Monroe had a nigga head gone. Every second I was around her, I contradicted myself. I couldn't fall for her, but she was mine. I wanted her to have her freedom but didn't want to let her out of my sight. It was fucked up, and I found myself being something I never thought I would be… a wishy-washy ass nigga.

"I guess you can say that. It's why I can't marry her."

"And why you must," Aunt Vanessa mumbled. She was speaking just above a whisper, but I heard every word.

"Royale!" Drake, one of the kids from the shelter, ran inside. "Are you going to come play with us?" he questioned. I glanced back at Aunt Vanessa. I knew better than to leave a conversation with her before I was dismissed.

"Go ahead, baby. We don't have much more to discuss. I fully support you." She waved me off.

"Thank you, Auntie." I kissed her on the cheek before running outside with Drake. Her support meant a lot to me. If this was truly a fucked-up idea, she would have let me know.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"I approached Monroe as she sat by the beach. She'd been watching the tide for a few hours now. Since we'd been here, it was something that she did often. Usually, I let her be, but tonight, something compelled me to join her.

"It's so peaceful. I could stare out at the water all day." She looked up at me as I joined her in the sand.

"Yeah, I've spent a lot of time here just looking at the water. It helped me settle my mind a time or two." I gazed between her and the ocean.

"My mind has been at war. On one hand, I'm the happiest I've ever been, but on the other, I feel guilty. Marrying to strengthen my family is something I always knew I had to do. I looked forward to it until I didn't."

I understood exactly where she was coming from. It was the same way I had felt when I chose to leave the cartel and become a surgeon.

"As a kid, I wanted nothing more than to follow in my father's footsteps. He was this big, powerful man that everyone feared, and I wanted that… wanted to be just like him… wanted to fulfill my duties as the son of a cartel boss."

"What changed that for you?"

"My mom overdosed, and my brother was murdered in the name of this glorified business. I decided that I didn't want to glorify it anymore." I stared out at the water as I spoke.

"You still benefit from being associated with the cartel, though. That ever makes you feel guilty… like you didn't earn it cause you not living up to your part?"

I nodded my head. That was something that plagued me often. No matter how much I accomplished… how much I distanced myself from my family business, I would always be known as London's son—heir to the London Cartel.

"Every damn day."

"How do you find peace with that?" She turned her body toward me. The sun glistened in her brown eyes.

"I find my peace in knowing that every day I wake up, I'm living the life I chose and breaking the toxic cycle I don't care to be a part of."

"I'm never going back," she mumbled to herself. It sounded as if she was trying to speak it into existence. She nodded her head as she returned her attention to the water. I touched her exposed thigh, and we sat there for a minute, watching the ocean. Deciding to free herself from the toxic cycle was huge. I wanted to find a way to reassure her that she had made the right choice.

"I was thinking…" I interrupted our silence. "We should celebrate your breakup and independence."

"Celebrate?" she questioned. Her eyes said she wasn't sure where I was going with this.

"Yeah, I want to plan something special for you." She deserved it for all she had endured.

"Like a date?" Her voice rose an octave as the realization of what I was asking set in.

"No, like two friends celebrating one friend's breakup from a lame ass nigga," I replied, making her laugh and roll her eyes at the same time.

"A date." She reiterated. I shrugged. It was a date, but my willingness to keep us platonic was strong.

"Whatever you want to call it, Monroe. Are you down?"

She turned her head away from me and tapped her pointer finger on her jaw as if she was in deep thought.

"Oh, you gotta think that damn hard?" I tossed a handful of sand at her. Monroe burst into laughter as she returned the sentiment. We stayed that way for a minute, tossing sand back and forth at each other like elementary school kids, sharing laughter.

"Okay, okay." She held up her arms in surrender. "I would love to go on a date with you, London."

"Be ready at six," I informed her as I stood from the sand. I had a special night to plan for a special woman.