"She got a body like RIhanna's

Double rice at Benihana's (Damn)

Uptight but drive a Honda (Straight up)

She was the only one down for me (Down for me)

She got an ass like her momma (She do)

She said she not with the drama (Uh uh)

You get her number, better call her (Do that)

She was the only one down for me, whoa, oh, oh

She was the only one down for me

She was the only one down"

Tristan could feel his mother's exaggerated eye roll through his phone. It was always a pleasure speaking with her, but it was always easier than speaking with his father.

"Mother, I am doing everything you asked of me." Tristan reminded his mother, leaning back in his black leather lazy boy recliner and propping his feet up on the raised foot extension.

"Then why is this not going to plan?" Celia chided, shaking her head and switching the phone from her left ear to speakerphone setting.

"I can't control her! I tried, I've been trying. I've resorted to some...unpleasantries, but nothing works Mother."

"I don't care, try harder." Her cold tone still managed to send shivers down Tristan's spine, regardless of the 1,700 miles in between them.

"I can't!"

"Should I inform your father of your failure to act?"

"No, please, no." Tristan pleaded, reaching up and running a hand through his hair, pulling on some of the strands with a strong amount of pressure. Any other pain was easier to tolerate than speaking with his father and dealing with his anger issues.

"So, what do you propose?" Celia Montgomery was sitting straight up in her velvet arm chair, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her blonde hair was naturally coiffed up in a curled up-do, and her neck was glimmering with white pearls.

"I…..I don't know, Mother. I doubt she'll look at me now until next week, when this stunt blows over. I just get so frustrated with her." Tristan sighed. Again, Massie refused to answer any of his phone calls or text messages. Was he surprised? No, he wouldn't want to answer either if the tables were turned.

"Dear, we all get frustrated. That doesn't mean laying hands on her is the proper way to handle it."

"I'm under so much pressure from you and Father, and I snapped. I'm not proud of it." No one understood the immense amount of pressure Tristan Montgomery was under, but no one wanted to care enough to find out. People wrote him off as a rich, snobby, one percenter with an anger issue, but did anyone care enough to find out why?

Did anyone care enough to dive deep into his past, like when he was adopted because his birth mother was a full time drug addict? And, the fact that he genetically was predispositioned to be one as well? He fought the urge for a while. His adopted family, The Montgomery Family, had just went through a third miscarriage when they got the phone call there was a baby going up for adoption who matched their family perfectly.

He looked exactly like a blend of Celia and Raymond. No one could tell the difference if they tried. He had Raymond's darker hair, Celia's cold eyes, and his jawline sharp enough to cut a diamond almost mirrored Raymond's. He never thought much into why he and Raymond shared so many physical attributes, but one day, maybe he'd look into it.

He was raised by the Montgomery's in a southern mansion, full of butlers and maids and 'the help' doing whatever was needed to make sure they were comfortable. However, no one knew about Raymond's anger issues or Celia's alcoholic tendencies. No one ever blinked twice when Tristan would show up with bruises under his uniform, or scars down his back and shoulders.

The only one who did was Massie, and he never let her in, but he did the same thing to her. He gave her the same matching scars, both emotionally and physically, and he could never take that back.

"Now, do not go and blame us for your pitiful behavior. You are an adult, you are fully able and aware to make your own decisions." He could hear his mother 'tsk tsking' him over the phone, and his own eyes rolled before he stuttered to convince her otherwise.

"I-I know, bu-"

"Do it, Tristan. Make it work, or your father and I will be on the next flight out to Westchester to come and correct this atrocious mess you've created."

"Please, that isn't necessary." Tristan was not below begging to keep his parents away from him and Massie. He didn't know what they would do when they were alone with her, and that frightened Tristan even more.

"It seems like it is, dear. It seems like you cannot handle business on your own."

"No, Mother, you can't."

"Oh, but I can. I'll speak to Raymond when he returns from the office."

"Mo-"

"Enough, Tristan. Time is time. Now, we have to clean up another one of your messes before it gets too far. Do you need to be reminded of what happened to Emmy?"

"N-no." His voice cracked, and he coughed to clear his throat. His hands began to shake, and he dropped his phone into his lap. He immediately put it on speaker, then stared as his hands grew red and all of the blood rushed out of his head to his body.

"Good, now make us proud, or we'll do it ourselves. You have until tomorrow evening to make that decision."

"Okay, I understand." Tristan choked out, as the room began to spin. He couldn't see straight, he could barely get any words out because his throat felt full of lead. His stomach dropped to the floor, and he threw his head back in excruciating pain and nausea as the room continued to spin.

"Do you?"

"Yes." His wrist felt like it caught on fire. It burned, and he began to pant like he was gasping for air, which he was. His eyes kept darting back and forth, left to right, and his legs wouldn't move, it felt like they were rooted into the chair he was still seated in.

"Very well, then. I will speak with you tomorrow."

Massie's eyes darted back and forth, right to left. She had parked outside of the Wine Cellar, an extremely bougie wine tasting/pairing expert who was to assist her with the wedding wine selections. She was thankful this was their Yonkers location, meaning no bystanders would recognize her and no one here knew who she or Derrick was. Derrick was meeting her there, as Tristan was pretty much dead to her at this point and even if he wasn't, she wasn't bringing him.

She had taken one of her father's cars today, not for any particular reason, but she wanted a way for Tristan to not be able to trace her. Massie went back to the Block Estate the morning after her evening with Derrick, and swapped cars. She liked to keep him on his toes, just as much as he did it to her. Her fingers were tapping against William's dark grey BMW i8 coupe, and she reached to grab the iPhone out of her chanel plaid mini flap purse when Derrick's SUV pulled up beside her.

"William doesn't strike me as a hybrid kinda guy," Derrick pointed out before he raised his car window and shut it off.

"He doesn't strike you as a lot of things, but for some reason, he cares about that kind of stuff now."

"Must be the stress talking." He smirked, closing his car door and coming to open Massie's.

"Well, you know what they say. "To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan and not quite enough time."'

"Thank god we have neither of those things right now." The dirty blonde reminded her, helping her out of the car.

"Don't remind me, I'm always worrying about it."

"You know we will figure it out, Mass. We always do." Derrick closed her car door, locking his with his key fob before tossing it back in his pocket and facing the brunette who spent the night at his apartment.

It was a hard thing to swallow. That apartment, that was their plan, their end all. They promised each other when they were younger that they'd do it, they'd live together, raise a family, raise each other in a loving home. But, he lived alone, Massie was rarely a guest in the apartment, and he always hoped it would bring her back to him. Yet, here she stood, with him, going to do a wine tasting for her wedding...with someone else.

Still, Derrick was here for her. He knew the inside of the relationship that no one else did besides Dylan and Plovert. He was going to fix this for her. Half of him blamed it on his own dumb actions. He should've returned her calls in college, he should've made more of an effort to touch base with her, to catch up with her, to relive their past again, but he was too stubborn. He was too afraid of getting hurt. So many times, Derrick came running to her rescue, but when it wasn't welcomed by Massie, he knew he couldn't spend his entire life watching over her and trying to fix her mistakes anymore.

That is, until she needed him. He always did it out of the kindness of his heart and out of the pure bleeding love he felt for her, and never stopped feeling for her. Derrick didn't want her hurt, he was her protector, even though the majority of his rescuing her she didn't remember the next morning. He vowed to take care of her, and now, she needed him more than ever.

Massie and Derrick had their past, that was for sure. They both made childish assumptions, did childish things, hurt each other knowing they were doing it. They both had to live with their jealousy, when one would make the other hurt to get the upper hand. They were both alphas, they were like oil and water, equal and opposite but also so very similar.

Everyone knew it was a matter of time before they got back together, which was why her engagement shocked the hell out of the Westchester community that practically watched the two grow up. Now that she wasn't donning her engagement ring (currently still on Tristan's floor of his apartment), the air between them felt clear and free.

Derrick and Massie walked towards the building, brushing against each other as Massie's head was on a constant swivel surveying what was happening around them. She knew when things were too good to be true, and Tristan letting her ignore him didn't make any sense.

He normally fought harder for her. Perhaps he knew that this time it would take a miracle. But, he also knew her future was riding on his marriage just like his was. She still would appreciate the alone time she got to spend with Derrick, without having a five carat pear shaped diamond weighing her down.

Her Prada tortoise shell sunglasses hid her amber eyes, and her wavy chestnut hair was in a messy bun at the top of her head with pieces sticking out to frame her small face. She was wearing a pair of Theory crepe cream wide leg paper bag trousers, with a black cotton tee shirt tucked into the waistband. A black pair of Alexander Wang booties poked out from underneath the trousers, and her body was covered in a cognac Ted Baker long belted coat.

Derrick was wearing his favorite pair of jeans, a dark wash slim straight pair that Massie loved the way they hugged him. She remembered all the times in the past she'd prayed he'd start wearing jeans, and now, it was like he wouldn't wear anything else. His muscular chest was covered in a grey Theory waffle-knit sweater, which hugged his biceps and made Massie drool. He threw on a pair of golden goose superstars, and was done for the day.

Massie appreciated his good taste when it came to fashion. He really came a long way, which Massie loves to take the credit for. She always hoped her love for fashion and styling would rub off on him, which it seemed to. Derrick went from wearing shorts and t shirts in the winter to high fashion, and she loved every minute of it.

"After you," he winked before opening the entrance door and letting her go first.

"How kind." Massie smirked, nodding and walking inside before taking a long look at the building.

The interior was extremely dim, lit by candlelights in the sconces on the walls. The walls appeared to be a black, textured wallpaper and the floor was white and black marble. The decoration pieces were all black and white, crystal and vintage pieces like it was a parisian storefront on the french riviera. She breathed in, her mind clearing and allowing herself to enjoy and rejoice in this moment.

The decor, the mood, it all fit her so well. She'd love a place like this, to own one. She wanted more than just spreadsheets, and this place was her style. It was bougie, it was clean, it was romantic and it was seductive.

A swanky blonde with a ponytail down to her hips greeted the pair, dressed in all black leather leggings, a black tight long sleeve shirt and a pair of killer black Alexander Wang heels. Her blue eyes were covered in smokey, dark eye makeup and smudged dark grey liner. The only color on her was her bright red dior lipstick, red like a cherry, glossy and perfectly plumped. Suddenly, Massie felt the need to call her dermatologist for a re-injection.

"Welcome, Ms. Block and Mr…?"

"Harrington."

"Welcome, both of you. Let's get you seated, we have a special table for you both. Congratulations." The hostess' voice was low and seductive, matching the overwhelming vibe in the room. Derrick and Massie exchanged glances.

"Are we doing this?" She mouthed to him, and he nodded with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Why not?" He mouthed back, before guiding her where the hostess was walking.

The pair sat in a dark corner of the room, dimly lit with candles of different sizes and a soft amber scent transpired through the air. There were two overstuffed navy velvet chairs surrounded by a square black marble table. The hostess began filling a card she took off of the table out with a red pen, circling a few things and turning to the couple.

"When is the big day?"

"April seventeenth," Massie answered, looking towards Derrick and raising a brow slightly.

"Okay, perfect, so we have a few months to go. That means that for the most part, we'll be able to supply our inventory, but the german wines may take longer to be delivered, so we won't be sampling those. I don't want to give false hope in case it doesn't come in time, I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, yes, yes we do." Derrick nodded his head.

"Hey, I know you from somewhere."

"Oh, maybe I just have a familiar face?"

"No, I definitely know you from somewhere. Maybe from my last trip to Spain?" The hostess questioned.

"Nope, I haven't been to Spain in six years. Sorry."

"Must be my brain, then. I will send the Sommelier over momentarily. Have a great taste," she breathed before slinking off to another table.

Massie breathed out a puff of air she didn't know she was holding in. Of fucking course, his stadium is a ten minute drive from this location.

"That was really close," she breathed out, blinking at Derrick who was sitting there with a grin.

"What are you smirking about?" She asked.

"I have fans!" He whispered in glee, shaking his head and looking around. "I was never recognized in public before, this is a big deal to me."

"Yeah, and if she knew who you really were, we'd be blown by now."

"Right, you're totally right. Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

A bread basket with two plates was dropped at their table by a thin brunette in all black as well, sending a wink to the couple before disappearing round the corner.

"What even is this place?" Derrick asked Massie, taking a roll and ripping a piece off to dip in the oil mixture provided.

"It's a wine specialist. You know I couldn't take any chances with this wedding."

"So, we're here to just pick wine?"

A dark chuckle from behind their table made the two of them jump. A thin man came into their line of vision, brunette and wearing a black pair of pants with a ruby red sweater.

"Just to pick wine?" He snarked, shaking his head. "I don't think you understand the significance of the wine you serve at a wedding, sir."

"Apparently I don't," Derrick snarked back, and Massie could see his chest rising in anger.

"Maybe you can inform us?" Massie requested the forty year old at their table, raising an eyebrow in a 'lets-go' type of manner.

"Ah, Ms. Block, always a pleasure."

"Likewise, Oliver."

"So, to inform your hubby-to-be, the wine you serve is a symbol of your families joining together. It's a ceremonial aspect from thousands of years before us. Each wine means something different, each wine speaks something different. You don't want your guests to remember your family by a cheap, ten dollar bottle of chardonnay, do you?"

"I guess not?" Derrick replied in confusion, looking at Massie like 'what the fuck did you get us into?'

"That's the right answer. I will bring out a sampling from each country, explain each flavor, then you two will pick one from each. We will narrow it down to the three best bottles for you both, and put the order in for the catering company you chose."

"Oh, good." The amber eyed brunette nodded her head like she totally understood what he was saying.

"Perfect, let's get started on our tour, then. Let's start in Italy, off of the Amalfi coast. The lemon groves, the bergamot in the air, the crisp ocean breaking against the rocks."