No lines left to cross

India stood outside the abandoned casino, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips as she took in the towering structure. Dust-coated windows, a faded neon sign barely hanging onto the front, and a door that looked like it hadn't been opened in years.

It was perfect.

The Pink Pussy Palace wasn't just about money—it was about power. It was about proving she could stand on her own, separate from Chris, separate from anything anyone ever tried to box her into.

Chris stood next to her, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the place with his usual unreadable expression. Always in control. Always calculating.

"You sure about this?" he asked, voice calm.

India glanced at him with a smirk. "When have I ever not been sure?"

Chris gave her a look, but didn't argue.

Instead, he pushed the heavy metal door open, stepping inside.

The air was thick with dust and the scent of something stale, but underneath it, India could already see the vision. The high ceilings, the open space—this wasn't just a rundown building. This was a goldmine waiting to be flipped.

Stunna had stayed back to handle some of their girls, but India wasn't worried. She could handle this part.

A sharp clicking of heels echoed from the other side of the room, and India turned just as a woman appeared from the shadows.

Long legs, designer heels, and a body that said she knew how to use it.

India's eyes flicked over her, already unimpressed.

Chris had brought in an interior designer—Monique. A woman too damn pretty and already looking at Chris like she wanted to eat him for dinner.

"Mr. Brown," Monique purred, extending a manicured hand. "It's been a while."

Chris shook her hand, expression blank. "Monique."

India's eyes narrowed.

Monique turned to her next, eyes flicking up and down like she was sizing her up.

"And you must be...?"

Chris didn't answer. He didn't need to.

India smiled—a slow, deadly kind of smile. "I'm the one you need to impress if you want this job."

Monique's lips parted slightly, like she wasn't expecting that response.

Chris, ever the professional, cut in. "India's running this place. Whatever she wants, that's what happens."

Monique recovered quickly, her smile returning. "Of course."

But as they walked through the building, discussing potential layouts, India noticed the way Monique kept leaning a little too close to Chris, letting her fingers trail across his arm whenever she made a point.

India wasn't having it.

She watched, smirking to herself, waiting.

Then, just as Monique placed a hand on Chris's chest, laughing at something he said, India struck.

She stepped between them, knocking Monique's hand away as if it were a damn mosquito.

Monique blinked, startled. "Oh, I—"

"Listen, sweetheart," India said, voice slow, teasing. "I don't give a damn what business you and Chris had before, but let's get one thing straight."

Monique stiffened. "And what's that?"

India leaned in, smile never fading. "If you touch him again, I'll have to introduce you to my favorite gun. And trust me, she don't like to be ignored."

Monique's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked it with a nervous chuckle. "I was just—"

India held up a hand, cutting her off. "Nah, nah, save it. Just do your damn job and stay in your lane."

Chris sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "India—"

India didn't even look at him. She had made her point.

Monique, clearly not wanting real smoke, simply nodded. "Of course."

Chris exhaled. "Can we get back to work now?"

India grinned. "I thought we never stopped."

As they continued the walk-through, Chris shot India one of those looks.

.....

Monique kept her distance after that, sticking to the business at hand. But India still caught her stealing glances at Chris when she thought no one was looking. Bold, but stupid.

Chris, for his part, acted like nothing happened. Typical.

They moved through the building, discussing layout ideas. India had it all mapped out in her head—the VIP booths, the main stage, the private rooms. Everything designed to rake in money while keeping business airtight.

"I want the main stage to be the first thing they see when they walk in," India said, pointing to the open space near the entrance. "pink lights, gold poles. We want them hypnotized before they even sit down."

Chris nodded. "Security at every entrance, two stationed in the back rooms."

India smirked. "You're learning."

Chris shot her a look. "I'm making sure you don't get yourself killed."

Monique cleared her throat. "If you want something more high-end, I'd suggest a chandelier, maybe velvet booths. Give it a luxury feel."

India scoffed. "Yeah, because nothing says high-class like ass and dollar bills."

Chris fought back a smirk.

Monique just blinked. "I—well, it depends on the clientele you're attracting."

Chris cut in before India could throw another jab. "We'll keep it sleek but practical. Priority is profit and security."

India rolled her eyes but nodded.

After another hour of going over plans, Monique finally left, giving Chris a lingering look before walking out.

India watched her go, arms crossed. "You really used to mess with that?"

Chris exhaled, clearly done with her shit. "Drop it."

India grinned. "I mean, I get it. She's cute, in a basic, I'll-do-anything-for-you kind of way."

Chris didn't take the bait. "You done?"

She stepped closer, tilting her head. "That depends. You got something else to say?"

Chris stared at her, jaw tight. India felt the tension between them crackle, something thick, heavy.

Then, just like that, he turned away. "We're done here."

India clenched her fists, watching as he walked off, leaving her standing there. She hated when he did that.

But she wasn't worried.

She always got her way in the end.