Chapter 49
Miriam
“Iknew you’d call. Come in.” Kieran holds open the front door to the Maple King office building.
“Thank you for meeting with me.” I keep my tone even and swallow the urge to vomit. Flight is squaring up with my fight, but I’m here on a mission.
The walk to his office is quiet through traces of recessed lights spotlighting a pathway I thought I’d never take again. No one else is here. Not that I’d expect there to be at eight thirty at night.
My grip on my purse tightens at the feeling of his eyes on my ass.
The weather is unseasonably mild for early April in Buffalo.
I traded in my winter coat for long-sleeved tee and a vest to enjoy the weeklong warm front.
Now I regret not wearing some type of Missy Elliott garbage suit to conceal my curves.
I wait next to his office with the stupid plaque and follow him inside.
“Close the door.” He takes a seat at the front of his desk and crosses his legs.
A cold knot forms in my stomach. You can do this. I shut the door.
“You look good.” His eyes swing to my curls, which are nearly touching my shoulders. I swallow hard when they reach my breasts. “Did you come to apologize?”
This n—
“I want to understand why you’re patenting an idea that’s not yours,” I say, confidence finding its way into my voice. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for Black women in any field, especially engineering? That concept is mine, and it will do a lot of good for the community.”
“We’ll put it to good use on the East Side.”
I gape at his audacity. “So, what? You ask me to dinner after my job interview, pay thousands to go out with me again, and let me use Maple King’s labs just to steal from me? Was that the whole plan all along? To use me?”
“I wanted to fuck you.” He chuckles to himself. “I still do. You had the opportunity to build with me here, for us to create a legacy. You chose not to.” His nostrils flare. “Everything comes with a cost, Miriam. Lucky for you, I’m willing to start over.”
The timbre in his voice sends shivers through me. His arms fold over his button-down shirt. It’s fitting that he’s in all black tonight, to match how evil he is.
I lift my chin. “Does that mean you won’t pawn off my idea as your own and patent it?”
A dark smile spreads across his lips. “That ship has already sailed, sweetie,” he says, amused that I’d think it would be on the table. “You worked on your concept in the Maple King lab.”
“At your invitation, and after hours! I didn’t give you permission to steal from me.”
He pushes off the desk. “I never needed your permission. Don’t be na?ve, Miriam. You designed a concept using our property. What did you think would happen?”
“So you’re confessing to taking my concept?” I spit.
He grins. “I don’t need to. You were in our lab.”
“I’ll go public.”
“Go ahead. You aren’t the first and won’t be the last.”
Did I just hear him right?
I jerk away from his touch. “Don’t take it personal, Miriam. It’s just business.”
“What would your parents say? Or the Hunter Development Corporation, having its name attached to theft?”
Kieran’s laughter is dark. “Who do you think encouraged me to use what you designed after you dismissed me the way you did? As for Hunter Development”—I recoil at his breath fanning across my face—“it’s part of our business practices, among other things. Come home with me. I’ll make it better.”
“You disgust me,” I snarl.
“You came to me. You’ll be back.” He laughs as I sprint out the door.
I jog back to my car in record time, with no signs of collapsing from the cardio.
“Jesus!” I jump at the dark figure in my rearview mirror. “I thought you left.”
“How can I keep you safe if I leave, Maid Miriam?” Bread scoffs before ripping open a packet of gummy bears.
I frown. “Where did you get snacks?”
“Ran across the street to the convenience store while you went up. Want one?” He extends the bag.
“No thanks.”
He shrugs. “Did you get what you needed, or do I need to go up there and beat his ass?”
“None of that,” I say through a long sigh.
Antonio would catch a manslaughter charge if he knew what I was up to and would beat Bread in the process. He sat out another game. The press is officially turning on him. Some are speculating he’s hiding an injury. Others say he is dividing the team and not taking his leadership role seriously.
His head coach is forbidding interviews. With no one to set the record straight, made-up stories are piling up at his expense.
A gossip reporter spotted Antonio and Bread arguing in the parking lot after practice. Yards away, it was easy to assume a star player was beefing with his teammate. The reality is that Antonio had to talk Bread off the ledge before he took matters into his own hands.
The guys want to help, but Antonio won’t let them. He can afford to face any consequences from his protest. Things are tense, but the team respects their captain. They ignore press questions and focus on winning games.
“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” I say to Bread’s hulking frame that’s swallowing the back seat of my car. He’s dressed in all black but too big to hide from anyone.
“Like you had a choice,” he chuckles. “You know I got you and Cap’s backs.”
Bread overheard me on the phone with Reese a few nights ago at Steel House. I took the call in the main kitchen downstairs, hoping to avoid Antonio. Bread was grabbing a snack and told me he’d be my security just in case.
Reese picks up on the first ring.
“Are you safe?”
“Yeah.” I draw in a sharp breath and tap the speakerphone. “I got what we needed.”
Poor Reese is putting out fires left and right, trying to explain why one of the Steel’s star players isn’t on the pitch.
I won’t stand by while the press eats him alive.
When I asked Antonio in Vegas if he ever lets people take care of him the way he takes care of others, I made a promise to protect him the way he’s protected me.
Fuck Kieran and Mancini.
“Phase two,” I tell Reese.
“Phase two.”
“Hell yeah!” Bread shouts.
The incessant ringing of my doorbell wakes me from a deep slumber. Who is at my door trying to catch a toaster to the forehead?
“It’s six thirty,” I grumble from my pillow when I glance at the clock on my nightstand. The cocoon of flannel sheets and a thick comforter come with an implied Do Not Disturb sign.
It’s not Antonio. He slept at his house last night to be ready for a five-a.m. session with D. Working out that early is demonic, and I won’t argue the point.
Fridays are the one day of the workweek when I get to take it easy. I wake up at eight, read in bed, and get to the community center by ten thirty. It’s perfect—except for today and the person fingering my doorbell with no couth.
I check my phone for messages, toss on a terry cloth robe, and stomp down my steps. If we’re skipping the pleasantries of a courtesy call, whoever is on the other side of my door will get a front-row seat to my bonnet and eye boogies.
Did a neighbor get locked out of their house? Did a child miss the bus?
“Dad?” I gape at my father, who’s standing in a suit and coat on the “An Awesome Engineer Lives Here” mat. One guess who found it online and shipped it to my house. “What are you doing in Buffalo?”
“The better question is why didn’t you reach out sooner? I didn’t call because I assumed your phone stopped working.” He eyes me flatly, kisses my cheek, and walks inside.
I shut the door. “I’m handling it.”
“How? By recording a conversation you hope will change hearts and minds?” He folds his arms across his black coat, his seawater and lavender cologne clinging to the tie I bought him two Christmases ago. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
Why do I need to when Marcela blabs my business?
He motions for me to sit on the sofa. I cross my legs and sigh. “Because it’s my problem. I don’t need another lecture about how I chose the wrong job, or why my title is beneath me. I’m doing good work that will make a difference. I don’t want your disappointment, but I don’t need your approval.”
My father runs a hand over his low taper fade. His Rolex peeks out from the cuff of the suit that’s tailored to his six-three frame. He anchors his elbows to his knees and strokes his chin as he softly regards me with the dark brown eyes we share.
“You’ve always done what you wanted, since you were a kid,” he says with a sad smile that lifts his chocolate dimples.
He lets out a short laugh. “You never needed my approval, Lady Bug. If anything, I was searching for yours, to prove my usefulness. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you. I only wanted the best.”
Not tears in a bonnet before seven a.m.!
He slides forward to hug me, and I melt into the protection of the first man I ever loved.
“You’re never too old for me to defend you,” he whispers with a kiss to my temple. “You have a family who loves you, even if we’re overbearing at times.”
I laugh and wipe away a tear.
“Don’t put yourself in danger, Miri. Anything could’ve happened last night with you going over there by yourself.”
“I know. I needed Kieran to admit what he did on tape.”
My father sits back. “Why?”
“Because New York is a one-party consent state. Recording a conversation is legal as long as one of the parties consents to the recording. I planned to use it to get Maple King to reconsider stealing my patent idea.”
“Lady Bug, your recording alone isn’t enough. Maple King will explain away whatever press you garner.” My father pats my leg and stands. “The best way to deal with them is to hit them where it hurts the most: fuck with their money.”
My brows dip.
“Did you forget where your father works?” He smiles at my pinched stare. “Maple King relies on government contracts. One call to a friend in Toronto this morning terminated their latest one.”
“Dad.”
“I didn’t build up years of relationships and a network of influence to sit back while some prick takes advantage of my baby girl.
You’ve always stood tall on your own, Miri, but anyone who messes with this family will be handled accordingly.
I’d like to take you to lunch to catch up.
You can tell me about your new position and the work you’re doing. ”
I smile. “I’d like that.”
“And that rugby player you’re dating.”
Marcela!
“Your mother is expecting your call.”
Chuleta.