Chapter 3 #3
The desire for more jumped off the screen the second Nina showed me her page.
Couture Interiors run and operated by business mogul Mahogany Mills-Morris.
Linked her personal page to her business page which to me…
was a no go. I wasn’t attached to Skylight Industries.
I kept the two separate. I had a page, but I didn’t fuck around with social media for real.
Hadn’t logged on in months. Regardless of if I thought it was a bad business move or not, I appreciated the misstep.
It gave me a little glimpse into her life.
I wasn’t the social media stalking type, but her eyes called me.
Urged me to dig deeper. Begged me to find the emptiness behind a set of slanted brown eyes that only lit up when she was around friends, with her kids, or talking about anything design related.
So, fuck no, I wouldn’t call her Mrs. Mahogany Mills-Morris. Not again. Because despite her correcting me, she didn’t want to be called that shit neither.
“That’s a beautiful name,” Mahogany complimented. “How’d you come up with it?”
“The House of Nova Ray?” I checked. She nodded. “Nova Ray is my daughter.”
With raised brows she said, “Oh how cute! I know she must be excited. How old is she?”
I ran my tongue over my bottom lip and scratched at the top of my head. “My bad. Was… is… I get mixed up. She was almost two before she passed away.”
As expected, the mood shifted. For me too.
I didn’t talk about my daughter much for that reason specifically.
She was and always would be a soft spot for me.
She was my only weakness. The only thing on earth that made me both human and animal.
Softened and hardened me with her first and last breath.
Losing her broke me in unimaginable ways.
The short period of time in which I had her both shaped and broke me at once.
Nova was… she did and still played a pivotal role in my life. Experiencing her was a double entendre.
“Oh, no… I’m—I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mahogany struggled to say.
I nodded, said nothing, and picked my cup of coffee up. I never responded when people said that to me because what the fuck were you sorry about? I was the sorry one. Sorry because I didn’t protect her. Sorry because time wasn’t on our side. Sorry because… hell, sorry about a bunch of shit.
“How long have you been passionate about design?” I asked, changing the subject.
She smiled. “For as long as I can remember, really. When I was a kid, I stayed going through my momma’s Home and Garden magazines just…” She shrugged. “Dreaming.”
Nodding, I said, “That’s wassup. Business has been going very well for you.”
“You know a little something, huh?” She asked, wearing a smirk.
I locked eyes with her, nodded and said, “I know a lot.”
She shied away as expected and went for that mimosa she needed a refill on. “But yeah,” she paused, ran a hand down the back of her neck and said, “Things have been going pretty good. You’re my first major, mainstream client though.”
“Is that right?” I asked, feigning ignorance, surveying her, watching as she toyed with her hair, smiled, looked away and shifted around in her chair.
Mahogany was confident. Her elegance and confidence were radiant.
It met you before her beauty. But with me that confidence seemed to melt away.
Subtly. Slowly. I wondered if I came off too strong.
Wondered if my attraction to her was too obvious.
Wondered if calling her by her maiden name was too disrespectful and uncomfortable for her. I needed to chill.
Nodding, she said, “Yeah. It’s a bit intimidating but…” Pausing, she shrugged. “I’m up for the challenge.”
We locked eyes for a second before she looked away and took a sip of her drink. Again. Pretty soon she wouldn’t have shit to go for. The glass was practically empty. I watched as her gloss tainted the glass and had to shift around in my own seat. Shit.
“Straight up? I like that. A woman that don’t run away from a little challenge.”
She locked eyes with me and winked. “I run towards it.”
“Mmh,” I grunted, with a head nod. “I think we’re going to work very well together, Ms. Mills.”
She laughed, nodded and said, “Yeah… I think so too.”
It didn’t take long for her to stop correcting me, did it?
Noticing the waitress on her way to another table, I gestured for her to come over.
Nodding towards Mahogany’s glass, I asked her to bring another mimosa.
She needed it. Not because she wanted to be drunk but because it was a blanket.
Something that calmed her. Relaxed her. Like a safety net.
I didn’t want her embarrassed when she reached for it again and it was empty.
I cared because I wanted her comfortable.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “But how you know I want another one? This is a business meeting.”
I laughed. “The meeting is some ways away from ending and you keep going for it. You need it.” Pausing, I made sure we locked eyes when I said, “Not like that, neither.”
“You callin’ me an alcoholic, Mr. Carter?” She joked. “Oh, this meeting is over.”
We shared a laugh and hers faded out a bit.
Eye contact lingered and softened. Seemed as if the nerves that were weighing her down lifted a little too.
“I really do think this is going to be a great partnership,” she added.
“We have a lot of work to do. Good to know you’re not going to be hard to work with. ”
“I shouldn’t be,” I said. “I do like my black though.”
“You seem pretty easy to convince.”
“I trust you. Whatever you say, I’m with it.”
She went for her glass, finishing her drink. “Be careful with what you say. I might take advantage of that.”
With a smile I said, “Can’t take advantage of the willing.”
She laughed a little and looked around before mumbling, “Where is that waitress with my drink?”
We shared another laugh, and I decided to chill.
She was right—we were at a business meeting, and she was married.
Despite how unhappy I thought she was, I had to respect her.
We did have a lot of projects to work on and would be working together for quite some time, so I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
“I’m talking shit,” I added. “Let me pull these blueprints up before you get too drunk to read them.”
Again, we laughed, and she playfully hit me in the arm. “Never. I can handle a couple of mimosas, thank you very much. I shouldn’t even be drinking but—”
“You needed a drink,” I challenged again. “You’re nervous.”
“Intimidated,” she corrected.
“Same thing.”
“Completely different,” she said with a frown.
“Intimidation makes you nervous; same thing.”
We stared at each other in silence for a couple of seconds before she finally agreed.
“You have nothing to be intimidated about,” I told her. “I’m a regular nig—guy.” I lightly chuckled. “My bad.”
She twisted her lips up at me. “Be yourself, Crescent. You’re a regular nigga—to you. To me, you’re a high-profile client who’s paying me a pretty-pretty penny to bring your visions to life. One being very personal and special. It’s very intimidating.”
I liked Mahogany. I could see now that meetings wouldn’t really be meetings.
They would flow. So well that losing track of time would be second nature to us.
The friendly, not too flirty banter was refreshing.
Something I wasn’t used to experiencing with business partners.
Something I hadn’t experienced with a woman since my ex.
I needed to be careful. The line between business and pleasure could easily blur and because I felt like I knew enough about her, I was sure she’d let it.
Regardless of morals and that hyphen in her name.