His smirk returned. “Give me a minute. I’ll meet you inside,” Messiah said, as he passed the girl his keys.

When she disappeared inside, he turned to Morgan. “I’ll see you around,” he said. “No more hole-in-the-wall clubs, shorty. That ain’t for you.”

She nodded, as she headed back to her car. She was livid that she was the one he was seeing off, meanwhile, a lesser woman was waiting for him inside his home. Knowing that Messiah was off limits to her, she got into her car, without looking back before pulling away.

Morgan Atkins was a princess. Throne, crown, the whole nine yards. Her 18th birthday celebration proved exactly how much love her family had around town. Ethic had spared no expense, renting out a mansion on the outskirts of town. He had given her a real-life castle for the day. Morgan did nothing ordinary. Her event was like a local Met Gala, with formal attire required and all. Waiters walked around with hors d'oeuvres and champagne for the guests who were of age. A full spread was available in the kitchen; lobster and crab, specially prepared by a five-star chef, had been flown in from Maine. The all-white ball room theme was something out of a fairy tale, and Morgan looked like royalty. Her Escada gown was ripped straight off a runway; short and sexy, a sheer overlay dragged behind her when she walked. Her braids, along with the gold beads with henna tattoos, gave her a unique style that only she could pull off. Her winged eyeliner gave her a Cleopatra, Nefertiti, or some other black queen vibe. She was their equal because Morgan was just an effortlessly, gorgeous human being. Morgan was one of the pretty people, just as her sister had been, just as their mother had been. She came from a long line of inherited beauty.