Session 33

Chapter eight

I’d heard men talking about infatuation, but I’d never experienced it until now. It was what had me standing in the lobby of a high-rise building, carrying a bag full of food, feeling something unfamiliar tight in my chest. My heart pounded as I approached the front desk.

The secretary caught my eye and smiled, her gaze trailing over me, assessing me as if I were something valuable. I couldn’t blame her—I’d dressed to impress, wearing a black button-up, black pinstripe tailored dress pants, and black Giuseppe sneakers.

"Hi there," she purred, leaning forward, putting her titties on display. "How can I help you?" They were fake—strike one.

"I'm here to see Angel Mars," I replied, keeping my tone low. My eyes darted around. Anxiety had me paranoid for no reason.

She tilted her red head, her smile widening. "Do you have an appointment, sir?"

I shook my head. "No, but I'm sure she'll want to see me," I said, flashing my signature grin. Women loved it when I smiled with a little crookedness and a lot of confidence. It usually made things easier, smoother because they felt I was more accessible to them—less perfect.

She hesitated, leaning forward slightly. "You know, she's really busy. Maybe you can call me, and I’ll set up an appointment for you?" She slid a card with her number on it across the desk.

I picked it up, barely glancing at it, but I slipped it into my pocket. "Thanks, beautiful. But could you call her and let her know I'm here? I’ll still give you that call—maybe we can do something later." I let my gaze drop to where she wanted it to be—on her tits—and ran my tongue across my lips.

Her face turned beet red as she picked up the phone, her eyes never leaving mine. After a brief conversation, she hung up and nodded. "She'll see you now. Eighth floor, office 805."

I walked to the elevators. The doors opened immediately after I pressed the button, and I stepped in, feeling the secretary’s eyes on me. She was thirsty as fuck. That was unattractive. As the doors closed, I pulled the card from my pocket and dropped it onto the floor. My focus was elsewhere.

The elevator ride was quick, and soon enough, I was standing in front of Angel's office. The door was glass, and I could see her working inside, the city skyline at her back.

I knocked lightly and pushed the door open. Angel looked up. She didn’t look happy to see me, but she didn’t look displeased either. Why was she so fucking pretty to me? I could tell she didn’t trust me. I couldn’t blame her for that—I didn’t even understand my own motives.

"Cassius, what are you doing here?"

I waved the bag in her face, grinning. "Bringing you lunch. Naomi said you work too hard and don’t go out to eat. So, here I am."

She raised an eyebrow but smiled. “Why?”

I chuckled. “Because this is what friends do. And you don’t seem to have time to cultivate our friendship outside of work. You’re over Naomi’s often but suddenly have to go when I come around. So, I came to you so you can’t run from me.”

She stared at me for a long second, then her eyes trailed to the bag in my hand.

She simply shrugged, not acknowledging what I said. I didn’t like that.

"How can I say no to you feeding me?" she finally said.

I won’t even pretend like her lack of enthusiasm wasn’t blowing me. I should have turned around and left. Instead, I settled the bags on her glass desk. I unpacked the food: chicken and waffles, shrimp and grits, catfish and spaghetti. I handed her an empty plate—not paper, but one from a Williams Sonoma set I’d picked up on the way here. I had silver forks and spoons too. I let her take what she wanted.

She looked impressed, and that pleased me.

"Thank you for this," she remarked, picking up a fork.

We started eating. I watched her as she ate, feeling that unfamiliar tightness again. I wasn’t used to this—being open, playing nice. It grated on my nerves a little. This shit wasn’t the real me. Would she even like the real me? I opened my mouth to force myself to say something that would get me out of my own head.

"Tell me about your family, your siblings," Angel said, breaking the silence first.

I shrugged, feeling my expression harden. My parents were always a sore subject. "I ain’t got no siblings, and my daddy offed my momma and himself, so I don’t really have any."

She winced, her fork pausing mid-air. "I'm sorry. Mine died in a car accident together, so I understand loss. I’m an only child too. But now I don’t want to talk about family anymore. It’s depressing. Tell me something nobody knows about you."

I smirked. "Why?" I asked.

"Because we can’t sit here and eat in silence," she answered.

"I could," I replied, my voice low again. "You’re beautiful enough to just sit here in silence and look at."

She blushed slightly, deepening her dimples, making her even more attractive.

"Come on, Cassius. Give me something. Anything. Humanize yourself to me."

“Fine,” I muttered, exhaling. “I hate being alone for too long. It makes me think too hard.” I glanced back at her, watching her expression shift. "And when I start thinking too much, it’s like..." I stopped myself, raking a hand over my jaw, but the words came anyway. "It’s like I’m falling into a hole I can’t climb out of. So, I stay busy. I keep noise around me—people, music, strippers. Stay high or drunk—whatever I can get my hands on to drown out... myself."

Her fork hovered mid-air, her eyes fixed on mine. I hated the feeling crawling under my skin, so I cracked a grin to lighten the moment. “Happy now? Got me sounding like I need a damn therapist.”

She didn’t laugh. She simply nodded, her expression was filled with something, like she was seeing me for the first time. "Thank you for sharing that."

“What about you? Tell me something.” I needed to switch the spotlight off of me.

She tittered. “I will not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t tell a man like you too much. You’d try to use it against me when it benefits you.”

I chuckled. “You aren’t wrong.”

We finished our meal in silence. When she set her fork down, I took it as my cue to clean up. I gathered the plates, throwing them away, wiping crumbs off her glass desk.

When I was done, I walked around the desk and stood in front of her, holding out my hand. When she slid her hand into mine, I gently pulled her out of the chair. She stood there, her lips slightly parted, her face tilting up toward mine like she was waiting for me to do something reckless.

I didn’t. Instead, I pulled her into me, wrapping my arms around her in a way that felt natural. Her head rested against my chest, and I could feel her breath against me. I didn’t know how long I held her, but it felt longer than it should have—and not long enough.

Then, without thinking too hard about it, I pressed a kiss to her forehead—quick, soft, and unspoken in its meaning.

“Have a good rest of your day, Angel,” I murmured, my voice low and rough.

She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her watching me as I walked away, my chest tight and my head spinning with thoughts about what came next.

As I exited the office, I ran into Naomi. She shook her head. “You’re a hard-headed fuck,” she said, bumping me with her shoulder as she pushed past.

I turned around and grabbed her arm, my grip tight—but not tight enough that Jonas would try and beat my ass. She was pissing me off. I hadn’t forgotten about the bullshit she’d pulled at breakfast a couple of weeks ago. She had been trying to embarrass me. “What’s your problem right now, Naomi? You ain’t never acted like this before.”

She yanked her arm away, her face hardening. “My problem? Angel is a good girl, Cassius. She’s not experienced enough for you. And though I love you, you’re not a good guy.”

“Funny, you never had a problem hooking me up with the rest of your friends,” I snapped, my voice rising with each word.

“Yeah, friends who have enough sense to know you’re for the streets and not get their hearts involved,” she shot back, her eyes blazing.

I balled my face up in anger. “Fuck you, Naomi!” I spat.

“Fuck you back, Cassius!” she screamed, her voice echoing in the hallway.

We stood there, glaring at each other. Finally, Naomi turned on her heel and stormed into Angel’s office, slamming the door behind her.

My chest was heaving like crazy. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go, but I couldn’t help how I felt about Angel. And Naomi… Naomi would just have to deal with it. Fuck her.

Over the next few weeks, I made a point of stopping by Angel’s office regularly. Sometimes I brought lunch, other times coffee, or small gifts that made her smile. Each visit, I pushed myself on her a little more, coaxing her into considering me.

One day, as I walked into her office with a bag of her favorite ribs, she looked up, a question in her eyes. She didn’t even know I’d been let up. I’d come so often, none of the secretaries even bothered to check me.

“Why are you doing this, Cassius?”

I set the bag down and met her gaze. “Because I like you, Angel. And I think you like me too.”

She bit her lip, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing ever is,” I said, taking a seat. “Let’s eat this food real quick. I got something to do after lunch.”

She nodded and got up to serve me. I liked that. She did it often.

After lunch, I slid into the driver’s seat of my car and sat there for too long, my phone resting in my palm. I gnawed at the inside of my cheek, my thumb hovering over the screen.

Angel’s face flickered in my mind. The way her dimples deepened when she laughed.

I dragged my hand down my face and exhaled.

I knew better than to do what I was about to do while aggressively pursuing Angel, but knowing better didn’t stop me. Finally, I swiped and dialed Keisha.

“Aye, meet me at the hotel in an hour,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could think too hard about them. I hung up without waiting for her reply.

The thing is—I liked Angel. More than I had planned to. But I wasn’t used to being patient, and Angel was all patience, all restraint. I told myself it wasn’t a big deal what I was about to do, that it didn’t mean anything. Keisha was a habit, not a priority.

But with Keisha, I didn’t have to be two people. I didn’t have to worry about who I was pretending to be. She didn’t ask questions.

I stared at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I frowned. Something about my own face pissed me off.

Maybe because Naomi’s words kept running laps in my head. That little voice of hers whispering that Angel was too good, too soft, too not for me. And yeah, she might’ve been right. Especially since Angel made me feel like two different versions of myself—the guy who wanted to be better, and the guy who knew better wasn’t in his DNA. Not right now, at least.

With everyone else, I was consistent. No pretense, no pretending to be more than what I was. But with Angel, I was different. And I hated that Naomi saw it before I did.

I let out a frustrated sigh and started the car, heading toward the hotel. I couldn’t help but wonder if Angel would like the real me—the guy who didn’t know how to slow down or wait or choose something good for himself. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ruin her before I could even figure it out.