Chapter 10 #2
“Ms. Miller!” Rayna, the concierge on duty, called out.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, heading toward her desk.
“This came for you.” She lifted a long, rectangular gift box tied with a sleek black bow and set a matching black gift bag beside it.
I frowned. “That’s weird, I didn’t order anything.”
“A real fine man dropped it off at the start of my shift and told me to make sure I handed it to you personally.”
My heart skipped. Cash.
“Oh, okay—thanks,” I said, trying to play it cool as I scooped up the boxes.
Curiosity and anticipation grew as the elevator climbed to my floor, and by the time I got inside my apartment, I was practically buzzing.
I kicked off my shoes and dropped the packages onto the couch before slipping into yoga shorts and an old T-shirt. Settling cross-legged on the rug, I reached for the gift box first. Tucked in the bow was a small handwritten card:
Be a good girl and wear this for me. –Money
I bit my lip, untied the ribbon, and lifted the lid. My breath hitched as I peeled back the tissue paper to reveal a black leather dress.
“Shit,” I whispered, running my fingers over the buttery material.
I loved fashion, but I’d never bought anything this expensive.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw the Versace tag—this was easily a few thousand dollars.
The corset-style top and gold hardware screamed high fashion and sex.
“I didn’t even know they made stuff like this in my size,” I muttered, reaching for the gift bag next. My mouth dropped as I pulled out a sleek pair of Tom Ford stilettos.
“Cash, you aren’t playing fair,” I whined, scrambling for my phone.
I FaceTimed the only person who’d understand.
“?Que lo que!” Amber chirped, her grin lighting up the screen.
“Sis, you busy?” My stomach flipped as I glanced at the time. It was 5:00 p.m.—if I was going to be ready in time, I needed to start now.
“Never too busy for you, bestie.”
Amber and I had been best friends since middle school. She was one of the few people who encouraged me to take the contract in Atlanta. She reminded me that if it sucked, there was no shame in coming back home.
I sighed dramatically, staring at the open box. “Remember that fine ass dude I told you about—the one who got shot a few months ago? Then I ran into him at the club recently?”
“Mmhm.”
“Well, I saw him again today before brunch. He told me we’re going on a date… and I just came home to a leather Versace dress and Tom Ford heels.”
“Bitch?!” Amber shrieked, jumping off her couch.
“I know, girl. Apparently, he’s a real big deal here, but he’s… outside,” I whisper-yelled like I didn’t live alone.
“How outside we talking?”
“Like Marcus.”
She sucked in a breath. “Damn, I haven’t thought about him in a minute. Isn’t he still locked up?”
I threw up my hand. “Who cares?!” I said. “Point is, I’m too old for this right? I already punched a bitch over him, and he crashed a date. Tell me this is a bad idea.”
“Friend, I don’t think it’s that deep,” she chuckled. “You’re not marrying him, Jas. Let him spread his bread on you—clearly, he got it.”
“Everything about him is so intense. He gets under my skin.”
“Have you met you?” she teased. “Y’all sound like a match made in heaven.”
I rolled my eyes because she wasn’t wrong. It’d been a while since I met a man who wasn’t intimidated by my smart mouth.
“This shit goes left, we’re fighting next time I’m home,” I warned.
She laughed. “Yeah, alright. Just make sure you send some pics so I can see the full ‘fit.”
We ended the call, and I stared at the dress in its box.
This date was beginning to feel like the point of no return.
By 7:55, I was ready to turn heads. I was pleased with my decision to slick my hair back into a high ponytail.
The Versace dress hugged my curves without feeling restrictive.
The stilettos made my legs look longer, which I loved.
I kept the accessories simple—diamond studs, my gold J initial necklace, and the Van Cleef bracelet my parents got me for my thirty-fifth birthday.
I snapped a few selfies in front of my full-length mirror to send to Amber. I had to admit—Cash had impeccable taste.
My phone buzzed. Speak of the devil.
“You ready for me?”
The deep timbre of Cash’s voice sliding through the phone made my pussy thump.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked, trying to sound unbothered even though my palms felt clammy.
“Nah, you don’t,” he laughed. “Come downstairs so I can see how good you look.”
“Here I come.”
I grabbed my clutch off the dining room table. Running my hands over my hair, I took one last look in the mirror and headed out.
My heels clicked against the marble floor of the quiet lobby.
Outside, Cash’s Cayenne sat at the curb like it had been earlier—but this time, he was leaning against the passenger side.
A few women walking past gave him double takes, but he paid them no mind.
His eyes were locked on me, smile widening as I approached.
“Okay, okay—” he nodded, holding his hand out. “—you got that shit on, sweetheart.”
My cheeks warmed as I placed my hand into his.
He spun me around slowly, his eyes drinking in every inch of me. “I don’t know if I want anyone else seeing you in this,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist. His hands drifted lower to cup my ass.
“Behave,” I said, swatting his chest playfully.
He licked his lips. “I don’t know how behaved I can be when you look like this,” he chuckled, before opening the door for me.
“So where we going that you got me all gussied up?” I asked once he got in and started the car.
“You don’t like surprises?”
“After all this?” I looked down at the leather dress and heels.
“The limit does not exist,” he said with a grin.
I blinked. “Nigga, did you just quote Mean Girls?”
“What? It’s a classic,” he said, completely serious.
I lost it, doubling over with laughter. “I’m sorry—but picturing your gangsta ass watching a Lindsey Lohan movie is hilarious.”
“I contain multitudes, baby.”
We laughed and kept the conversation light until he pulled up in front of Le Flambeau. I’d seen the French steakhouse all over social media but never had a reason to go. And I definitely couldn’t afford it on a nurse’s salary.
Cash handed the keys to the valet and came around to open my door.
“Let me find out you got home training,” I smirked, taking his hand.
He laughed and kept a hold on me as we walked inside.
Le Flambeau wasn’t your basic steakhouse like Ruth’s Chris—it exuded an old-money vibe. Dim lighting cast a warm glow over the polished marble floors. Warm wood paneling wrapped around the room, and faint notes of jazz music floated in the background.
“Ah, Mr. Banks,” the host greeted us warmly. He was an older white man with thin brown hair slicked back into a ponytail. “So happy to have you back. Your usual table is ready.” He clapped his hands together, turning to lead the way.
Cash placed a hand on the small of my back as we followed. Looking around, I noticed the restaurant was completely empty. There were no other guests and no servers moving between tables. Just us.
“Cash, why is no one here?” I whispered.
“Because I rented it out for a private dinner,” he said with a sly grin. “Surprise.”
The host led us to a secluded booth in the back.
“Carlton will be serving you tonight. Enjoy,” he said with a slight bow before leaving.
I turned to Cash. “You booked out the entire restaurant? Why?”
“One because, I knew how good you’d look in that dress—and I’d hate to shoot a motherfucker on our first date,” he said, his gaze lingering on me. “Two, because I can.”
I took a moment to really look at him. It should’ve been illegal for someone to look this good.
His black ribbed silk shirt hugged his chest, showing off the tattoos snaking down his arm like art.
And his cream slacks were too perfect to be off the rack.
The combination of the Patek on his wrist and the thin gold chain around his neck screamed money and power.
“You showing out tonight, huh?” I teased, picking up the menu.
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m tryna show you I’m serious,” Cash said, sliding his hand onto my thigh.
“Serious about what? You don’t even know me for real,” I replied, trying to ignore the heat blooming through me from his touch.
“So, tell me about you then.”
“There’s nothing really to tell,” I chuckled, setting the menu down. “I’m a travel nurse. Been here a few months. This contract ends soon and I haven’t decided if I’m staying or going home.”
“Where’s home? You from up north?” he asked.
I frowned. “Up north?”
“New York,” he clarified.
“Queens, born and raised.”
“I knew I wasn’t trippin’ when I heard that accent.”
Carlton smiled. “Good evening, Mr. Banks. Always a pleasure,” he turned to me. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a glass of the rosé,” I said.
“And your usual, Mr. Banks?” Carlton asked. Cash nodded.
As soon as he stepped away, I couldn’t help myself.
“Your usual, Mr. Banks?” I mimicked in a faux-posh accent. “Damn, how often do you come here? And why does everyone know you? You the unofficial mayor of Atlanta or something?”
Cash smirked. “When shit isn’t hectic, maybe once a month. But yeah—my name rings bells out here.”
“Hm,” I hummed, pretending to look over the menu again.
“Hm, what?” He watched me closely. “Why you acting shy when we both know you got a slick mouth?”
“How freely can I speak?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Say what’s on your mind, shawty.”
“I know what you do,” I said.
He cocked his head. “You know, or you heard?”
“What’s the difference?”
He grinned. “Depends who you heard it from. If it wasn’t from me, it’s probably bullshit.”
“You want me to speak or nah?” I narrowed my eyes.
“My bad. Go ‘head.” He motioned for me to continue.