“Bo's actually kind of a quiet friend, he’s a follower. He's like a really, really, really good back up. When Smoke and Stack come into town, they kind of make him come out of his shell, and I think that was the relationship they had when they were kids.” -Yao.
Preview: “Please,” Annie whispered, mortified. “Don’t—don’t make me do that—”
“Ain’t making you do nothing.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Just correcting a misunderstanding. Making sure everybody knows you taken care of.”
Word Count: 2.8k
Warning ⚠️: They're not a trio. But everyone eats eventually 🤪
A/N This is for @othermotherchild and all the other folks who requested this. Thank you for the inspo and trusting me to bring your visions to life. Enjoy.
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Annie was sitting at her vanity, pinning up her hair, when she heard Smoke come home.
His footsteps on the stairs were steady, purposeful. She watched in the mirror as he appeared in the doorway, already dressed for the gala—black suit, crisp white shirt, looking every bit the man who commanded respect wherever he went.
“You bout ready, angel?” he asked, moving into the room.
“Almost. Just finishing my hair.”
He came to stand behind her, and she watched him in the mirror as he pulled a small velvet box from his jacket pocket.
“Got something for you,” he said, setting it on the vanity in front of her. His eyes watched her expression, a smile tugging at his lips.
Annie’s breath caught, a smile spreading across her face.
The box was deep blue, clearly expensive. She opened it with careful fingers.
A necklace. Diamonds arranged in an intricate pattern, delicate but striking. The kind of thing that cost more money than most people saw in months.
“Elijah,” she breathed. “This is—it’s beautiful.”
“It’s gon’ match your dress.” He picked it up, the gems catching the light. “Here. I got it.”
Annie lifted her chin as he draped the necklace around her throat, his fingers brushing her skin as he worked the clasp.
“There,” he murmured, his hands resting on her shoulders as they both looked at her reflection. “Perfect.”
It was perfect. The stones gleamed against her dark skin, elegant and striking.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Mm.” His hands slid down her arms slowly, then back up. “Speaking of… I heard somethin’ real interesting today.”
Annie’s stomach tightened at his tone. “Oh?”
“Mhm.” His fingers traced along her collarbones, just above the necklace. “Ran into Marcus Webb. He mentioned you was by his shop last week.”
Her heart started pounding. “I—yes, I stopped by—”
“Said you was bartering with him.” Smoke’s voice was casual, but his hands had stilled on her shoulders.
“Something about your herbal remedies in exchange for… what was it? Some fabric? Some special buttons?”
Annie swallowed hard. “It was just—I wanted some lace. For a project. And Marcus said his wife’s been having trouble sleeping, so I offered to make her some of my chamomile blend in exchang—”
“Now why…” His hands slid back up to her neck, fingers playing along the edge of the necklace. “Why would you need to do that?”
“It was just—”
“When you have a husband,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, his breath warm against her ear, “who can pay for it?”
“I didn’t think—”
“When your husband has given you money for it?” He continued. His fingers traced along her throat, not tight, just… there.
Present.
“I give you an allowance every month, don’t I?”
“Yes—”
“You got access to all the accounts,” His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and despite everything, Annie felt heat pool in her stomach.
“So explain to me, angel. Why you bartering like some woman whose man can’t provide for her?”
“It wasn’t about the money—” Her voice came out breathier than she intended.
“No?” His hands slid down, fingers trailing along the neckline of her dress, the tops of her breasts. “Then what was it about?”
Annie’s eyes fluttered closed. “I just… I liked the idea of trading. Of using something I made to get something I wanted.”
“Something you made.” His hands continued their slow exploration—along her sides, her waist, back up. “Like those folks are worthy of the things you make with your own two hands.”
“Elijah—”
“You see how that looks?” His mouth was at her neck now, lips brushing her skin between words. “My woman. Trading her goods like she ain’t got a man taking care of her. Like she gotta hustle for fabric and buttons.”
“That’s not—” She gasped as his teeth grazed her pulse point. “That’s not how it was—”
“How was it then?” His hands splayed across her stomach, pulling her back against him. “Explain it to me, sugar.”
“I just wanted—” Her breath hitched as one of his hands slid higher, thumb brushing just below her breast. “I wanted to make something. To trade something I created—”
“Mm.” The sound was almost a growl against her throat. “And how you think that makes me look? When people see my wife trading herbs for notions? What they gon’ think about the kind of man I am?”
“Nobody thinks—”
“Everybody thinks, baby. You know that.” His hand cupped her breast through the fabric of her dress, and she bit back a moan.
“Everybody watching. Everybody talking. And now they’ll be talking about how Elijah Moore’s woman out there bartering.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Are you?” He turned her around to face him, and the look in his eyes made her thighs clench. “Are you really?”
“Yes—”
“Then tomorrow,” he said, his voice firm despite the heat in his gaze, “we goin’ to Marcus Webb’s shop. Together.”
Annie’s eyes widened. “Elijah—”
“You gon’ cancel whatever deal you got with him. And I’m gon’ pay for whatever it is you wanted.”
His hand came up to cup her face. “In front of everybody. So they can see that you don’t need to trade nothin’. Because your husband provides.”
“Please,” Annie whispered, mortified. “Don’t—don’t make me do that—”
“Ain’t making you do nothing.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Just correcting a misunderstanding. Making sure everybody knows you taken care of.”
“That’s gon’ to be so embarrassing—”
“Good.” He leaned in, kissed her slowly, deeply, until she was breathless. “Maybe the embarrassment will help you remember next time. Will help you think before you go making deals behind my back.”
“I wasn’t—it wasn’t behind your back—”
“You ain’t tell me about it, did you?”
She couldn’t argue with that.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated, pulling back. “Ten o’clock. We goin’ together. Wear something nice.”
“Elijah—”
“That’s the end of it, Annie.” But his voice was softer now, and he kissed her forehead. “Now finish getting ready. We got a gala to get to.”
He walked out, and Annie sat there, staring at her reflection.
At the expensive necklace around her throat.
At the desire in her body from his touch.
At the trapped look in her own eyes.
~The Next Day ~
Annie wore a dove gray dress with white gloves, hair pinned up neat, looking every inch the respectable wife of a successful man.
She felt sick the entire drive to Marcus Webb’s shop.
“Smile, angel,” Smoke murmured as they walked up to the door. “You look like you headin’ to a funeral.”
The bell chimed as they entered, and Marcus looked up from behind the counter, his expression shifting when he saw who it was.
“Mr. Moore,” he said, straightening immediately. “Mrs. Moore. Good morning.”
“Morning, Marcus.” Smoke’s hand was firm on Annie’s lower back. “We here about that arrangement my wife made with you.”
Marcus’s eyes flicked to Annie, then back to Smoke. “Oh. Yes, sir. The chamomile blend for some lace and—”
“There’s been a change of plans,” Smoke cut in smoothly. “My wife won’t be trading her remedies. Instead, I’ll be purchasing whatever she needs. Cash.”
“Oh.” Marcus cleared his throat. “Of course, sir. That’s—that’s no problem at all.”
“Good.” Smoke looked at Annie. “Show him what you wanted, baby.”
Annie wanted to die. Two other women were in the shop, pretending to browse but clearly listening to every word. She recognized one of them—Judith Hayes, known for spreading gossip faster than wildfire.
“The ivory lace,” Annie said quietly. “And the pearl buttons.”
“Excellent choices,” Marcus said, moving to get them.
“Your wife has wonderful taste, Mr. Moore.”
“I know she does.” Smoke’s hand stayed on Annie’s back, possessive and warm. “That’s why I make sure she has access to the best. Don’t I, angel?”
“Yes,” Annie whispered.
Marcus wrapped the items carefully while Smoke pulled out his billfold—thick with cash, more than necessary, making a point.
“How much?”
“Oh, it’s—let me see—” Marcus calculated quickly. “Twelve dollars total.”
Smoke pulled out a twenty, set it on the counter. “Keep the change.”
“Sir, that’s too much—”
“For the inconvenience,” Smoke said smoothly. “And to make sure we all understand—my wife don’t need to trade for nothing. Anything she wants, I provide.”
“Yes, sir. It’s very clear.”
“Good.” Smoke picked up the wrapped package, handed it to Annie. “Anything else you need while we’re here, baby?”
Annie shook her head, neck hot.
“Then let’s go.” He nodded to Marcus. “Good doing business with you.”
As they left, Annie could feel Judith’s eyes on her back. Could practically hear the story being formed—how Elijah Moore had come in to pay for his wife’s purchases, how he’d made it clear she was taken care of, how he’d shown everyone who was in charge.
In the car, Smoke’s hand found hers.
“See?” he said quietly. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Annie stared out the window, the package in her lap feeling heavier than it should.
“You understand now?” he continued. “Why I needed to do that?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good girl.” He squeezed her hand. “Next time you want something, you buy it. Because your husband makes sure you got the money for it. You understand?”
“I understand.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles. “That’s my girl.”
And Annie sat there, the expensive necklace from last night still around her throat, and wondered why being taken care of felt so much like being owned.
By the time they got home, Smoke’s mood had shifted—satisfied, pleased. He pulled her into the kitchen, pressed her against the counter, kissed her until she was breathless.
“You looked so pretty in that shop,” he murmured against her mouth. “Standing there in that dress, wearing my necklace. Everybody knowing you mine.”
And despite everything—despite the embarrassment, despite the control, despite the way her independence seemed to slip further away every day—Annie’s body responded to him.
Because that was the most confusing part.
She hated what he did.
But she loved him when he did it.
—-
Annie’s fingers twisted in her lap uselessly. As they always did when Smoke fed her.
“What’d you get into today, doll?”
“Spent some time working on my cinnamon rolls.”
His mouth ticked up.
“You likin’ that good cinnamon I got you then?”
She smiled and hit him on his chest.
“It’s real nice. Smells—different than the normal one.”
“Mhm. I’ll have to keep picking it up for you then.” As if cinnamon from across the seas was plenty. Like flour or sugar.
“Another expensive thing you’ll keep spoiling me with.” She said with disapproval.
“You deserve it. You worth every penny and more.” He had that look in his eyes. The one that scared Annie a bit. That deep devotion.
Then he held the fork to her lips once more.
Annie had long given up fighting Smoke’s obsessive tendencies. He was always… intense. She knew that. But the longer they stayed together, the worse it got.
Yet still she tried.
“Was thinking… of goin’ to the beach with the girls this weekend.”
She watched him grip the fork tighter.
“No.”
“Elijah you —“
“I said no.”
“You didn’t even let me finish.” She deadpanned.
“Don’t need to. I look like the type of man that lets his woman run around in public half naked?”
“Smoke, it’s just a bathing suit—”
“Exactly.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “And every man on that beach gon’ be looking at you in it.”
“They not gonna—”
“Annie.” He set the fork down, turned to face her fully.
“You think I’m stupid? You know how men think. You know what they see when they look at you.”
Her stomach twisted. “So I’m just supposed to stay here? Never go anywhere?”
“You can go plenty of places. Just not half-dressed in front of strangers.”
“Pearl and them are going—”
“Pearl and them ain’t my concern. You are.”
“This ain’t fair.”
“Life ain’t fair, angel.” He picked up the fork again, held it to her lips. “Eat.”
She turned her head away. “I’m not hungry anymore.” Crossing her arms.
His hand caught her chin—not rough, but firm. Turned her face back to him.
“Don’t be childish,” he said quietly. “You need to eat.”
“I said I’m not—”
“And I said eat.” His thumb stroked her jaw, gentle despite the steel in his voice. “I ain’t gon’ ask again.”
Annie’s eyes filled with tears, but she opened her mouth.
He fed her the bite, watching her chew, his expression softening slightly.
“There you are,” he murmured. “See? That ain’t so hard.”
The humiliation burned in her chest.
Later that night, Annie tried again.
“What if we compromised?” she said as they got ready for bed. “What if I wore something more… modest? A swimming dress instead of—”
Smoke didn’t even look up from unbuttoning his shirt. “We already talked about this.”
“No, you talked. I ain’t get to—”
“Because there ain’t nothing more to discuss.” He turned to her now, and something in his expression made her step back.
“You think I’m bein’ unreasonable? You think I’m too controlling?”
“Yes.” She hissed.
“You rather be with a man that don’t give a damn?”
“I ain’t say that—”
“You ain’t have to.” He moved closer, and Annie’s back hit the vanity. “But let me explain something to you, angel. Every day, I make sure you safe, make sure you provided for, make sure nobody even thinks about disrespecting you.”
His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheek.
“And you wanna go parade around in front of strangers? In a bathing suit? Where I can’t protect you? Where any man can look at you, think about you, want you?”
“Smoke, it’s not like that—”
“It’s exactly like that.” His voice was soft now, almost tender. “And the fact that you don’t see it? That’s exactly why I gotta be strict with you. Because you too sweet, too trusting. You don’t understand how men are. How the world is...”
“I understand—”
“No, baby, you don’t.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But that’s alright. That’s what I’m here for. To understand for both of us. To keep you safe even when you don’t realize you need keeping safe.”
Annie’s throat was tight, eyes shinning with tears. “I just wanted one day. One day with my friends.”
“And I gave you an alternative.” His hands moved to her shoulders, rubbing gently. “I already told you. Why they can’t come here? I got you a creek on the property. It’s private. Quiet. And it’s safe.”
“Smoke, it ain’t the same!”
“It’s gon’ have to be the same.” His voice hardened. “You ain’t goin’ to no public beach ass naked.”
“You can’t just—”
“I can and I am.” He pulled back, started finishing unbuttoning his shirt. “Discussion’s over. You wanna invite your friends here for a swim day, that’s fine. But you ain’t goin’ out there half-dressed where I can’t see you.”
“So I’m a prisoner now?”
He turned sharply, and the look on his face made her flinch.
“A prisoner?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “A prisoner. In a house I built for you? Wearing clothes I bought you? Eating food I provide? That’s what you think this is?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, you said it. So let’s talk about it.” He moved closer, and Annie pressed back against the vanity. “A prisoner don’t got her own house. Don’t got her own bank account with money in it every month. Don’t got a man who worships the ground she walks on and would kill for her without thinking twice.”
“Smoke, please—”
“A prisoner don’t got choices, Annie. But you got choices. You can invite your friends here, swim in private, be safe. Or you can pout about not getting your way like a child.”
Tears spilled over. “Stop it. Please.”
His expression shifted immediately, softening. “Don’t cry.”
“Then stop making me cry!” She snapped annoyed at herself for showing weakness.
“Then stop workin’ my nerves!” His voice rose, and she sobbed harder. He ran a hand over his face, exhaled hard.
“Ion like making you cry, angel. You know that.”
“Then why do you keep doing it?” She whispered.
“Why you keep pushin’?”He cupped her face in both hands, made her look at him. “You keep trying to do things that ain’t safe, Then I try to protect you, you act like I’m the villain.”
“You are smothering me,” she whispered.
Something flickered across his face—hurt, maybe, or anger. Then it was gone, replaced by that calm, controlled expression.
“I’m goin’ to bed, Annie.”
“Smoke—”
“I’m goin’ to bed.” He stepped back, turned away. “I’ll sleeping in my study tonight. Wouldn’t want to… smother.”
He walked out, and Annie was left standing there, crying in their bedroom, feeling like she’d done something wrong even though she wasn’t sure what.
Chapter 2 >>> Coming Soon.
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A/N This is part 1 of 3 chapters. You know me, working and posting everything but what I'm supposed to be posting. I do want to say, I promise, I will write every submission, nudge or recommendation ya'll send my way. It may take me a little time, but I'll defintely do them. I don't take ya'll for granted. Thank you for your patience with me <3
If you want to know how this story will go check out the original post HERE.
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