Chapter 1 (part 1)

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"Alya I know what you're hiding," Malik whispered against her ear.

Her eyes shot up to meet his as he ran his hand down her arm slowly. She stepped away from him and he pulled her back. Dipping his head he kissed her lips tenderly, even as his hands gripped her arms firmly. She didn't fight against him. Instead she licked her tongue out, just grazing his bottom lip. He then crashed their bodies together and gripped her ass in his hands lifting her from her feet slightly. He had to make her understand that nothing mattered to him now, except her being his.

A few months prior...

(Alya)

She awakened to her Doberman, Ruckus, running across her room in a furry toward the window. He pulled back her curtain, drenching her in the sunlight they once held back. She groaned and lay face down in her queen size canopy bed. Ruckus barked and judging by how loud it was he had to be standing right next to her head.

She peeked up from the blankets and sure enough he stood with his tongue lolling out to the side, blowing hot dog breath in her face as his silver collar with his name scrolled on it glinted in the sun. She scrunched her nose and recoiled from the stench as she rolled to the other side of her bed where he met her.

She walked across her plush red carpet and into her bathroom, shutting the door and barricading Ruckus outside it. He jumped against the door once before getting the hint he wasn't welcome this time. She smirked as she shook her head. Ruckus was still her little mama's baby. Especially since her son, Honor, had died.

She glanced at his picture on her counter before brushing her teeth. Afterwards she hopped into the shower and turned on the water, quickly adjusting it to perfectly near scalding. She stared ahead as the water drenched her straightened hair, instantly causing it to crinkle and coil into it's natural state.

"Your publicist is here," she heard her housekeeper call from outside the bathroom door.

"Twenty minutes," Alya yelled back before grabbing a washcloth and beginning to wash her body, starting with her face.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Alya walked out to see Dedria, her publicist that looked like she could be Queen Latifah's twin. Dedria rolled her eyes and finished a text on her phone before looking back to Alya. She scanned her outfit and huffed a breath as she braced her weight on her right foot, clad in a orange stiletto heel.

"I thought I said no black," she whined slightly.

Alya looked down over her red dress, jeweled waist belt and black stilettos

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