CHAPTER 8 #2
"C’mon, Miley," Helisa said, leaning her torso across the small divide, her movement fluid and deliberate. "Sing along with me. I know you know the words to this one. Don't leave me out here on a limb by myself."
Before I could answer, she reached out, the tips of her long, soft fingers brushing gently against the curve of my cheekbone.
The touch was light—just a brief, tracing motion—but my skin instantly tingled as if she’d dropped a live wire against my face.
My breath caught in my throat, my entire body locking up from the sheer unexpected intimacy of the gesture.
But the champagne was humming in my veins now, and the look in Helisa’s eyes was so completely magnetic that I couldn't help but play along.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, opened my mouth, and joined her on the next verse, our voices blending together in the tight space of the backseat.
"Too soon, I spoke, you be heavy in my mind... can you get the heck out?" I sang, my Harlem cadence smoothing out into the melody as I let the music take over.
Helisa smiled widely, her dimples showing for a brief second as she reached down and caught both of my hands in hers.
Her palms were warm, soft, and completely steady.
I didn't pull away; I let my fingers intertwine with hers, our hands locked together between the leather seats as the two of us sang our hearts out to the stereo, the music transforming the luxury SUV into our own private concert hall.
“I worry that I wasted the best of me on you, baby… not trying to be a nuisance, it’s just urgent…”
SZA always had a way of getting me deeply emotional—her music was the soundtrack to every late-night breakdown and every early-morning survival march I’d ever had since college—and singing it with Helisa made me feel like I had to sing from the very bottom of my soul.
The memory of the hard years, the cold Buffalo winter, and the long road it took to get to this executive floor came rushing up into my throat.
I closed my eyes tightly, letting her voice anchor mine, pouring every ounce of my energy into the vocal line, my hands tightening instinctively against Helisa’s grip.
"You really can sing," I murmured between lines, my eyes locked onto hers.
"I have many secrets, Miley," she murmured back, her lips twisting into a beautiful, dangerous curve.
I was completely lost in the melody, my voice hitting the high note of the bridge, my eyes closed as I let the emotion of the track carry me away from the reality of E-Tech, when suddenly, the music vanished from my conscious awareness.
Something incredibly soft, warm, and distinctly moist pressed firmly against my open lips.
My eyes flew open instantly, my brain short-circuiting as the reality of the situation collided with my face.
Helisa had lunged across the divide. Her face was less than a millimeter from mine, her long eyelashes brushing against my brow, her lips parted as she deepened the pressure against my mouth.
Before my brain could even formulate a single coherent thought, her tongue slipped past my teeth—smooth, warm, and tasting faintly of expensive espresso and dry champagne.
It wasn't a tentative corporate kiss. It was a dominant, authoritative claim that left me completely breathless.
For a split second, the sheer shock of it kept me completely paralyzed.
Helisa Smith—the billionaire, the legendary Ice Queen of Mid-town logistics, the woman whose face was plastered on corporate billboards across the country—was currently thrusting her tongue down my throat in the back of her private car.
A wild, frantic jolt of adrenaline exploded in my chest. I jerked my head back quickly, breaking the seal of our lips with a soft, wet smack, and scrambled backward against the leather corner of my seat, my chest heaving as I tried to compose my thoughts.
My hands flew up to my mouth, my fingers tracing the residual wetness on my lower lip as I stared at her with wide, unblinking eyes.
Helisa didn't chase me. She pulled her torso back onto her side of the cabin with an elegant, unhurried grace, sitting back into the diamond-stitched leather.
She reached down, smoothing the front of her tailored skirt, her expression remarkably calm despite the sudden termination of the moment.
She adjusted the lapels of her blazer, though a small, subtle flush of pink on her high cheekbones let me know that her heart was running just as fast as mine.
"Sorry about that, Miley," Helisa said, her voice dropping back into its smooth, executive tone as she reached for her champagne flute. "Got a little carried away there for a second. The music always makes me reckless. I shouldn't have done that."
I stared at her, my mind spinning at a million miles an hour while I pulled a tissue from my purse, wiping my lips with a slow, deliberate motion.
My eyes never left her face. I finally figured the whole thing out.
Helisa wanted me. And by the looks of the intense, predatory gaze she was currently leveling at me over the rim of her crystal glass, she wanted to fuck me right here and now, on these very leather seats.
This was absolutely wild. Helisa is into women?
I asked myself, the thought sounding completely surreal in the silence of my own skull.
This was the kind of unhinged, elite-level drama that if I told my friends back home, or even my roommate, Terra, none of them would ever believe a single word of it.
They’d think I was hallucinating from the corporate stress.
But it was real. The heat in the car was real.
The kiss was entirely real. And even though I was completely taken aback by the sudden blur of the professional boundaries, I had to admit something to myself as I looked at her mouth: Helisa’s lips were incredibly, unbelievably soft, and the way her tongue had slid into my mouth felt absolutely amazing.
The woman knew exactly what she was doing with her face. The kiss was good as hell.
"I think you got a lot more than just carried away," I said, my voice coming out steadier than I expected, a slight, playful edge returning to my tone as I cleared my throat. "But... yeah. SZA definitely has a way of doing that to you. It's a high-hazard playlist for an executive."
Helisa didn't flinch. She took another quick, deep gulp of her champagne, emptying her flute before tilting the bottle over the ice bucket again. "Want another glass, Miley? Or did I scare you off completely?"
"Nah," I said, shaking my head as I placed my half-empty flute into the central cupholder.
"I think I’ve definitely had enough liquid courage for a Tuesday morning.
Besides, you should probably go easy on that Dom Pérignon too, Helisa.
Remember you have that massive regional meeting at three o'clock.
You don't want to be slurring your numbers to the board.
Ciara will know something is up instantly. "
Helisa let out another low laugh, her shoulders relaxing completely as she set the bottle down.
"Oh, please. Don’t worry about my capacity, Miley.
I am still sharp as a razor. I could finish this entire vintage bottle by myself and still walk perfectly straight down the center of the executive floor without a single person noticing.
My tolerance is built on corporate warfare. "
The sheer arrogance of the statement made me let out a loud laugh, the sound instantly breaking the remaining pocket of tension between us. I shook my head, my braids swaying against my shoulders as I looked at her.
"Did we actually... just do that?" I stammered, my fingers coming back up to touch the edge of my lip, the memory of her taste still heavy on my tongue. "Like... did my boss actually just kiss me in traffic?"
Helisa’s expression softened, a look of genuine regret crossing her sharp features for the first time since we left the tower.
"Yeah. We did. And I am so sorry, Miley. I shouldn’t have crossed that line with an employee.
It was entirely unprofessional of me, and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable on my floor. "
"No," I cut her off immediately.
Before she could slip back into her defensive corporate script, I reached across the space between us, my index finger coming to rest gently over her upper lip, stopping the flow of her apology.
I looked directly into her dark eyes, letting my dimples show as my confidence rushed back into place.
"Don't be sorry, Helisa. I actually liked it... for real. You just took me completely off guard, that’s all. I’m into women, but I honestly had no idea you were too.
I mean... I always see you on TV or in the business magazines standing next to those high-profile male tech venture capitalists at the galas.
I figured you were straight as an arrow. "
Helisa reached up, her warm fingers wrapping around my wrist to gently pull my finger away from her mouth. She didn't let go of my wrist, though; her grip remained firm, her thumb resting against the fast flutter of my pulse point as she leaned closer, her eyes turning deadly serious.
"Oh, please," Helisa said, a look of absolute disdain crossing her face at the mention of the media.
"Those men are just posers, Miley. They're arm candy for the corporate cameras, nothing more. They are transactions. I very much prefer the feminine touch in my private life. It's the only thing that feels real anymore. But... I need you to keep this entirely between you and me. Please. Don’t tell Ciara, and don’t tell anyone else in that building for that matter.
Understood? My position is... complicated. "
I looked down at her hand on my wrist, and then back up at her perfect lips, a dangerous, flirtatious smile spreading across my face.