Chapter 12
CRESCENT
I enjoyed what I did for a living. But was I passionate about it?
Absolutely not. The only thing I was passionate about was making money.
Nothing in between. I wasn’t one of those people who had a love for something.
I didn’t care for sports growing up for real.
Didn’t want to be a doctor. Didn’t give a fuck about policemen or firefighters.
None of that shit. I just wanted to make money.
I was sure my pops and uncles played a role in that.
Between them, that was all I always seen—money.
Big piles of it too. So, whenever anybody asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said rich.
However, these days, you’d think a nigga was really passionate about investments.
I mean, yeah I was passionate about The House of Nova Ray.
I wanted it to be perfect. But I found myself actually excited about work on some days.
It wasn’t the project I was excited about.
I didn’t like the idea of designing a hotel for my deceased daughter. It was honestly heartbreaking.
My excitement had absolutely nothing to do with the work but who I was working with.
Mahogany. Working with her had suddenly become the highlight of my week.
A nigga actually got dressed this morning with a smile.
A fuckin’ smile. You know how crazy that felt?
To be excited about something. I didn’t get excited.
I got to the money and that was about it.
But Mahogany? Mahogany made me excited. Listening to her talk about colors, furniture, blueprints, and shit like that fascinated me.
Not because I wanted to learn but because she was beautiful.
Not just physically—mentally. It wasn’t just that neither…
there was something striking about her. The magnetism I felt whenever I was in her presence had become rather…
addictive. I loved the scent of her perfume.
Loved the sound of her voice, and the way she nervously laughed.
Loved the way she loved design. Couldn’t get enough of the way she looked away any time I caught her staring.
Mahogany was shy and that shit drove me crazy, too.
Today for example. She hadn’t locked eyes with me for more than five seconds once.
Every look was fleeting. And it was crazy because I thought we were past that.
We’d been working together for damn near a month, and she was still as shy as she was the first day we worked together, at brunch, needing a drink.
“You said it was how long before construction on The House of Nova Ray was finished?” she asked, glancing up at me from her iPad.
My eyes traveled from hers to her lips before I looked back up at her face. “Three months,” I told her.
I watched as she swallowed before she went back to tapping around on that iPad. “Right.” She tapped her Apple pencil against her chin. “Did you look over the details I sent last night?”
“Didn’t get a chance to.”
She looked over at me, sighed, shook her head, and went back to working on her iPad.
We were close. Dangerously close. Damn near close enough for me to count her eyelashes.
But I wanted to be closer. I wanted her skin on mine.
I wasn’t doing too good. Keeping it professional.
I’d done horribly. I couldn’t help my attraction to her.
Thought I could, but I couldn’t. Every day I thought about her.
Beat my dick damn near every night at the thought of her.
Did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that I was attracted to her neither.
I was respectful though. Hadn’t touched her as badly as I wanted to.
Fought back against the urge to kiss her.
Stopped calling her Ms. Mills too. These days she was Mo.
I liked Mo better. Ms. Mills was a constant reminder of who she actually was. Someone else’s.
“Here you go again. You never come prepared.”
When it came to Couture Interiors I slacked.
Skipped over emails, failed to review design schemes, all of the things I should have done before a meeting.
I was a horrible client. But I was only horrible on purpose.
I wanted to spend more time with her. Wanted to ask her out for a drink but I was sure the night would end with her on her back and then what would happen? Shit would get complicated.
So, what in the hell was I doing? I didn’t know.
What I did know was that I couldn’t help it.
I tried to compartmentalize. Tried not to feel for her the way that I did.
But… it was to no avail. Any time we were together, I felt something.
Something more than attraction. It was longing.
Desire. A need for more. An urge for something other than business.
And it had nothing to do with how attractive she was.
It was just her. Her mannerisms. The way her lips curled when she smiled.
The way she pursed them and furrowed her brows when she was thinking.
Aside from those things it was her hands.
They were soft and tingly. Warm and cozy.
Nothing like anything I’d ever felt before.
When mine met hers, I let the handshake linger.
She did too. We held onto each other’s hands as if we didn’t want to let go.
She was always the first to pull away. Any time she did, it was to put that hand to the back of her neck.
I wondered if she felt chills there, too.
I sucked my teeth and shrugged. “Shit, we can go over it now.”
“Crescent,” She sighed and flicked her wrist to look at the time. “We’re already an hour over and—”
“What’s another hour?” I asked, wearing a little smile. I liked fucking with her. Getting her riled up and shit. I did it often. And every time, we stayed over so I didn’t know why she was tripping as if she didn’t want to spend extra time with me, too.
She locked eyes with me briefly before pushing up from her chair, grabbing her phone in the process. “Another hour,” she said with a laugh. “Listen—”
I sucked my teeth. “You ain’t got another hour for me? It’s late—you don’t have any more clients.”
She brushed her hand over her hair. “No, I don’t but I do have a family I need to get home to.”
“A family… a husband too. Shit, I’m sure dawg can hold it down for another hour or two. He’s been calling you like crazy, can’t be too busy.”
She rubbed her lips together with a sigh. “Or two?”
“You know how it gets between us. I need a lot of education and—”
“Education I left in the email. I know for a fact you’re not that forgetful, Crescent. Every time you come down here, you’re unprepared. A man of your stature don’t do business this way.”
“My bad, Mo,” I said with my eyes locked on hers. Hers didn’t stay on mine for long before she looked away. “I’ll do better next time. Gone and tell buddy you gone be a little late.”
“Buddy?” She repeated with furrowed brows and twisted lips.
“Your husband,” I said with my hands up and a light laugh. “Nah, on some real shit if you don’t have the time we can come back to it tomorrow.”
“We don’t meet tomorrow. You do know I have other clients, right?”
“They all as important as me?” I challenged with a smirk, fucking with her.
She looked away and ran her hand down the back of her neck.
Nope. They weren’t. Not as important as me, but important still.
So, because she had professional values, she wouldn’t push her meeting tomorrow.
She’d just give me what I wanted and not because I was some star client, but because she liked me just as much as I liked her.
Maybe more. She was bashful as fuck. Did that make me manipulative for taking advantage of what I could see and feel so clearly?
Maybe. Did I give a fuck? Hell naw. She could go home to the life she really didn’t want, eventually.
All I wanted was a few hours of her time.
Just to be around. Just to feel her. Smell her.
Be in her essence. It was fucking intoxicating.
Drawing. So much so that I’d inched in a little closer with every passing second we’d been sitting together.
Would’ve gotten closer if I wouldn’t be on top of her if I did.
I didn’t know what it was about the woman, but she had me moving in ways I didn’t move.
I wouldn’t say I was competing with her husband because…
I couldn’t. She was his. And nothing but a client of mine.
Still, I found myself wanting to compete.
Wanting to win her. Wanting to give her something other than what we’d been exchanging.
To be real… it wasn’t about him. It was about her.
He called a couple of hours ago. Multiple times.
Any time her phone vibrated, I watched as her chest raised and fell.
Watched as she grew uneasy. Watched as she grew annoyed with every call.
It took me telling her she could take the call for her to get up and answer it.
The walk to the bathroom was hurried. The phone conversation, low and dry.
Because the office was fairly quiet I could hear how much she wasn’t happy to hear from him.
Did that make me a creep? Nah. I didn’t think so.
It made me observant. Made me want her more.
I was competitive after all, and Mahogany was a challenge.
Not just because she was married but because she was so got damn shy.
With me. I wanted to know why. Wanted to loosen her up.
Wanted her to look at me the same way she looked at other people.
Wanted undivided attention. Wanted to feel the confidence I knew she had. She was the challenge.
“Give me a minute,” she said, pushing up from the couch.