Chapter Twelve #3
Close enough to kiss her neck, smell her curls, and feel her ass pressed against me. Her voice was shaky, breathless as she tried to stand firm on her beliefs, her walls contemplating coming down. Just enough for me to taste what I had been missing for years.
I wanted to be closer.
I wanted to be buried inside of her again––not just in the physical sense, but deep enough to remind her who we were and who we could be. I wanted to spell my apology into her skin.
Stroke for stroke.
Until she stopped trying to hate me and just let herself feel again.
Every time I looked at her, flashes hit me. Tatiana under me, arching her back because she needed more. Her mouth open, eyes filled with love and lust while locked on mine. Begging me to go deeper, like she needed to forget every lie I ever told.
I needed that.
She did, too.
Letting out a deep breath, she looked at her watch again. “I have a few meetings today. We were supposed to be in the air, and now I’m stuck here waiting for them to fuel the jet.”
Leaning forward, I looked at her. “What you want me to do, Tata?”
She finally turned to stare at me, never removing those glasses.
“What can you do? You can’t make them fuel the jet quicker, and you damn sure can’t get me up in the air in the next fifteen minutes.”
I remained quiet and looked at her for a few minutes before I got up. She had received a call as I made my way back towards the front.
“How much longer?” I asked, staring directly at him.
I wanted my answer to come from him, not the bullshit assistant standing beside him.
The man who had been sweating bullets five minutes ago was gone.
He stood straight, his suit jacket buttoned, and his hair smoothed back like he wasn’t sweating and apologizing moments before.
That panic and nervousness he had in his eyes had vanished, and it had been replaced with a calm customer service tone.
That tone that pissed you off when you were trying to get a payment arrangement, and they just told you no, then proceeded to apologize like that would keep your lights from being turned off.
He was back in control.
A few other clients had come in with their luggage as he held the phone to his ear. “At least another two hours.”
“Same thing he just told me,” Yaya responded, standing near the fancy-ass champagne vending machine.
“Enjoy anything from the lounge in the meantime.” His tone was clipped, and he was dismissing us.
This wasn’t the man who was tripping all over himself in front of Tatiana moments earlier. His tone told me that he thought I wasn’t important, and I was just the help. In his eyes, he didn’t think I should have been asking questions.
Better seen, never heard.
“He’s a rude bitch who only acts one way in front of Tatiana because he’s scared of both Raphael and her father.
When it comes to anybody with her, he doesn’t give a shit about them.
We are all considered her help and shouldn’t have anything to say.
If anything, he thinks we should be grateful for the experience.
” Yaya confirmed exactly what I had been thinking.
“Oh yeah?”
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Cello. We will have you up in the air in fifteen minutes. We’re doing a final cabin check on our jet to make sure everything is perfect for you.”
The bald white man chuckled, that rich kind of chuckle. But I knew he wasn’t that rich because he was chartering one of their jets instead of having his own stored there.
“We appreciate the very last-minute accommodation.”
“Anything for our loyal clients. The lounge is right through there. Take a seat, and we’ll come get your luggage when it’s time.”
They smiled as they both rolled their carry-on while leaving the three big pieces of luggage in the lobby.
“You have a jet ready right away for them but not Mrs. Sterling.”
“Yes. We have multiple jets so we can accommodate our clientele. Who are you again? I never got your name.”
He wasn’t asking because he genuinely cared to address me correctly. The bitch was asking because he wanted to remind me of my position. It was his way of putting me in my place in a classy way.
As I approached the front desk, the phone rang, and he picked it up. The assistant looked at me, then quickly looked away. He knew how to read a room and didn’t care to put his boss onto what was about to take place.
“The Hamptons this weekend? Ugh…maybe. I have to see what my schedule is looking like... Oh? He’s going to be there? Well, I might have to.” He faked a cough. “Pretend to be sick.”
The person on the other end must have laughed, because he returned their laugh with an even faker one. I had very little patience, and mine had run with him. I pressed the receiver button, ending their call. He gasped and stared at me in shock.
“Look, I don’t like doing all that yelling and shit that I know you’re expecting from me. It’s not even my flow on the real. That jet that’s gonna be ready in fifteen minutes, make sure the name is switched to Tatiana Sterling and guests.”
He snatched his hand back, appalled.
“That is against company policy, and I will do no such thing.” He placed the phone back down on the receiver.
“Not even worth it. We can just wait,” Yaya said from behind me as she stood a little distance away.
The smirk that curled at both ends of his lips pissed me off. He was waiting for me to accept defeat and go sit back down. Before he could react, I snatched his ass over the desk and grabbed the phone. Using the cord, I wrapped it around his neck while he screamed out.
Yaya quickly walked over toward the lounge and closed the doors, since people were coming out to see what all the commotion was about.
“I asked you nicely, and I’m not even all that nice. Gave yo’ ass a chance to fix the fuck-up on your end. You will switch the paperwork and make sure the jet is properly fueled in ten minutes. Yo, Ya! Where they going?”
She walked to behind the desk and shuffled through the papers that he had laid out perfectly for their departure. “London.”
I chuckled. “No need to worry. Las Vegas is a shorter distance than London. Have those papers switched, or I’m going to squeeze this bitch tighter every time that nigga over there blinks. Oh, shit…he blinked.” I pulled the cord tighter around his neck.
“Ughhh...” he gargled, trying to catch his breath as his eyes bulged in his sockets.
“Stop playing games with me and get us the fuck out of here before I do some shit that you won’t be able to catch your breath from.”
I released him and swung his ass across the floor, the force propelling him until his back hit the champagne vending machine.
Taking a breath, he held his neck while trying to regulate his breathing.
I cracked my knuckles and looked at the assistant, who was already shuffling through papers with Yaya to get us out of here.
“We...we have all the paperwork and will...will have your bags put onto that jet,” the assistant stammered, scared that his ass would be next.
“By the time my ass hits that seat in there, you better be coming to get us,” I threatened and opened the doors.
Tatiana and the couple who had come in minutes before were staring at me, looking alarmed.
“What happened out there?” she asked.
She had finally taken off her glasses and was staring directly at me. My pretty baby was allowing me to look into her eyes, and that shit meant more to me than the shit I had just done.
“Something about the new wax they use on the floors. He’s all good now. They got the emergency aid kit and all that shit,” I said, sitting down in the seat across from her.
My bullshit explanation was enough for the couple, who went back to their conversation while Tatiana stared at me.
“What did you do?”
“You’re stressed. So papa had to handle that shit for yo—”
“Mrs. Sterling, you are able to board the jet. Do…do you need anything specifically stocked onto the jet?”
That bitch came back with a red neck and a better attitude.
The shit was all his fault anyway. If he had come correctly, we wouldn’t have had to have a conversation that involved violence. He’s lucky I had self-control, because I really wanted to crack his fucking neck for the way he acted.
He stared at me for a moment before quickly rushing out of the lounge to get whatever Tatiana told him we needed.
Tatiana had a small smirk on her face as she looked at me. “Slippery floors, huh?”
“Damn floors.”
I didn’t need to tell her what I had done because she already knew, and I could tell she was thankful by the smile she allowed me to witness.
All of this was on her time, and I would take the pieces she would give me.
Even if she gave me crumb by crumb, I would accept each piece until I was able to form my own loaf of bread.
The mistake wasn’t the delay. Shit, it wasn’t even the switching of the jet. It was his ass thinking I was just some man––not knowing I would be her man.