Chapter 15 #2
She paused, staring up at me with her arms crossed over her chest, silent.
Probably to collect her lies because right after she got to rambling.
Walked away from me and began to pace her office, talking.
Talking about the mistake she made. Talking about how she was professional and never crossed lines with clients.
Talked about how long she’d been married.
Gave me explanations about why she did what she did.
Explanations I didn’t need. Mahogany had sex with me because she wanted to.
Fucked me because she couldn’t help but.
There was something between us. Something drawing.
Something that pulled me toward her, and her toward me.
Felt it every single time I was in her presence.
This urge to draw closer. This urge to not give a fuck.
Did she not think I had workplace morals?
Lines I refused to cross? Mahogany wasn’t the first beautiful woman I worked with.
However, she was the first I couldn’t resist. Which was crazy, considering she had a ring on her finger.
“You done?” I interrupted.
She looked over at me. “What?”
I hadn’t moved. I stayed planted behind her desk, hands stuffed into my pockets, watching her. Listening to her. Feeling her. The lies she spewed. The denial she was in. I was like that. Slow to defend, quick to listen.
“I asked if you were done,” I reiterated. “You want me to work with Shardae because we crossed the line. Cool. I hear you but as your client, I reject—”
She placed her hands on her desk, leaned forward and looked up at me with misty eyes. “Crescent, please. You—” she paused. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to make this decision. I… I don’t operate like this. I don’t…” She shrugged. “I don’t—I can’t mess up.”
With furrowed eyebrows, I watched her. Concerningly. She didn’t mess up. She couldn’t mess up. Mahogany had a serious case of anxiety. She was a perfectionist through-in-through. And in that moment, I felt a bit of sympathy for her.
My desire for Mahogany did cloud my better judgement.
And when I said desire, I didn’t mean sexually.
I just… a nigga wanted to be in her vicinity.
I wanted to look up and see her. I didn’t want to work with another designer.
But because I was a logical nigga who had always wanted her comfortable, I recoiled.
“Alright,” I stated through a deep breath. “Under one condition.”
Her eyebrows dipped. “What’s that?”
“Once a week, I get the Mahogany experience.”
“The Mahogany experience?”
I laughed. “Work with me once a week.”
“Crescent, I would love to work with you once a week but… like I said… I cannot work with you after what I—what we did.”
“We’re two grown adults who had sex,” I reminded her.
“You say that like it’s nothing—”
“Didn’t you just say it didn’t mean shit?” I reminded her, walking from around the desk to stand with her. “Let it not mean shit.”
She backed away. She was overreacting. I got it.
She was married. Shouldn’t have fucked me.
Shouldn’t have allowed me to handle her the way I handled her, but the shit happened.
Still, I couldn’t change the way she felt.
I had to accept it for what it was. She wanted to transfer me to some mediocre ass designer because she was in her feelings, cool. I’d let her have that.
“I—”
“I hear you,” I told her. “You want to transfer me over to Shardae. You scared of a nigga now. I got it.”
“Crescent, I am not scared of you. I just… I really want to respect my vows and—”
“Got you, baby. I understand.”
Now she wanted to respect her vows. Didn’t give a fuck about them vows when she was squirting and creaming all over my dick. Mahogany didn’t want to put a wedge between us—she felt like she had to. I didn’t think it would matter.
“Do you?”
“I do,” I honestly told her. “Don’t respect it though. But then again… it’s not for me to respect.” Pausing, I extended my hand. “It was a pleasure working with you, Ms. Mills.”
She squinted, gazing down at my lingering hand. “Crescent, please—”
“I promise I don’t give a fuck about that shit,” I cut in with my eyes locked on hers. “Never had.”
She swallowed and looked down at my lingering hand again.
“Damn, you scared to touch hands with me, too?” I asked, slightly offended.
Sucking her teeth, she placed her hand in mine, and I pulled her in. Did she resist? Yeah. A little. Not enough for me to chill. I figured, if she was cutting ties with me, why not seal the ending with a warm embrace?
“Come on now, man,” she protested, pressed against me.
With my arm wrapped around her waist, I tightened my grip. “Why you running from me?”
“I have to.”
I nodded and pressed my lips against her warm forehead.
She let me. When I felt her body relax I held her tighter.
Not because I didn’t want to let her go.
But because she just felt good as hell. It wasn’t her soft skin.
Wasn’t the way she smelled. The way she felt had nothing to do with the physical touch.
But everything to do with the way she made me feel inside.
I wasn’t a nigga who used words like fuzzy, but that’s how she made me feel. Fuzzy. Comfortable.
“Let me,” she added.
“Let you what? Run?”
“I’m not….” She paused and sighed. “I’m not running. I’m—I have to… I’m married. Let me be married.”
In other words, she wanted me to let her go.
Let go of whatever attraction I had to her so she could be married to a nigga she didn’t really, truly want to be married to.
Letting her should’ve been easy right? Accepting the transfer.
Shit should have been a piece of cake but oddly, it wasn’t.
I was fascinated by Mahogany. By her coyness.
Her confidence. Her smile. Her attention to detail.
Just her in general. But holding on to a married woman, if she was happy or not, didn’t make sense.
I let her go. Respected her boundaries because one, I didn’t have a choice and two…
I knew it wasn’t the end for us. I’d have to see her in passing.
She was the owner of Couture—of course I’d see her again.
Question was, when we did see each other would she be able to resist what I couldn’t?
Wanting more time. Needing more time? Needing an interaction? Something.
“Let you be married,” I repeated. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah… okay,” I said, taking a step away from her. “It’s cool. I’ll work with Shardae. Hopefully she’s a good fit. If not…”
“If not what? You’re threatening to end the contract?”
I adjusted my cufflinks, looked up at her, smiled, and shook my head. “This is business, baby.”
She squinted at me, and the fire that laid behind those pretty little brown eyes from before, reignited. “Seriously?”
“Is it not?”
I liked Mahogany. I liked her a lot. And while my attraction for her was potent, my love for The House of Nova Ray triumphed all of that shit.
I was serious. Serious about the project, serious about Shardae being a good fit.
I would behave. Would do whatever and play all of the silly little games Mahogany wanted to play.
But if Shardae didn’t live up to my expectations, I would be complaining, and if Mahogany didn’t do what Mahogany was supposed to do as a business owner, I would be severing ties.
All of them. And that had absolutely nothing to do with her wanting space. It was business. Simple as that.