Chapter 8
EIGHT
I smoothed the wrinkles of my dress, sliding my palms along the soft, cool fabric. Clarke’s air was moist and muggy. Still, it was breathable, and perfect for September. I hadn’t expected much less.
My key fob slid into my bag with ease. I buttoned it and lowered it to my side. One foot in front of the other, I ambled toward the door of Georgio’s. The secondary entrance was reserved for those who valued their privacy.
It swung open upon my arrival. A young, dark-skinned fella with gold covering his front teeth offered a smile and a hand to help me up the four steps. I took him up on his offer.
“Good evening, ma’am. Welcome to Georgio’s.”
“Good evening. Thank you for having me.”
“Right this way. Your guest and your table are waiting.”
I obliged, following the handsome fella through the restaurant. We reached the private quarters where Hakem was waiting. He hadn’t taken his seat. Neither had he sipped from his water. He was awaiting my arrival.
“Royce.”
Arms extended, he pulled me into his embrace. It was bone-chilling. The warmth I anticipated left me cold and concerned.
Hakem was the first profile I’d actually considered on Prestige, the dating app for the wealthy, well-respected, and untouchable.
Our schedules never aligned. Not until tonight.
Something always came up on my end. But, after spending time with Ishmael, and experiencing the beauty of partnership, I was determined to make the next date a success.
Hakem was born into wealth. He didn’t obtain it on his own. He was spoiled rotten as a child and became the head of his family’s oil company after the sudden passing of his father.
There wasn’t a rough edge to be noted about Hakem. He went to the best schools, had the best tutors, and hung with the filthy rich children of his family’s immediate circle.
Our stories nearly resembled each other.
However, our upbringing was incredibly different.
I could hit my target with my eyes closed.
I doubt Hakem had ever fired a weapon for anything other than the sport of hunting, if that.
Bodyguards were trained to handle situations that required heavy fire power so he wouldn’t have to. And that’s where I was struggling.
He’s no soldier.
Tonight, there were no guards. It was only Hakem. And, the burgundy suit that adorned his frame made the decision to see him tonight make so much sense. He was long, slim, and as suave as they came.
Hakem was the color of charcoal. His eyes were the brightest things on his frame. And, still, not a detail of his makeup could be overlooked. Everything was bolded. Italisized. And highlighted.
Hakem reminded me of royalty. And, rightfully so. His family was as close to royalty as Clarke would ever see. The legals, anyway. The underbelly was an entirely different beast. They didn’t belong down there. Their kind couldn’t withstand the heat emitting from the steam pipes.
“Hakem.”
Though he was nicknamed Kem, hardly anything about him reminded me of Chem.
His height.
His wealth.
His reach.
It didn’t go beyond those parameters.
He smelled like cedarwood and pepper. Vanilla was the link between the two, rounding out the fragrance extremely well.
“You smell divine.”
“You look the same,” he complimented, loosening his grip on me.
“Thank you.”
“I was beginning to think I wouldn’t catch up to you. Busy, busy.”
“Yeah. It happens.”
“Your face has been all over my screen lately. I thought I’d lost my chance.”
“I’m here. You’re here. Let’s not worry about anything more.”
“I agree.”
I took my seat and Hakem took his.
“Evening, ma’am. Sir. I’m Grace. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Anything from our drink menu piques your interest? We have incredible wine.”
“I’ll have a bottle of your finest red and two glasses for my date and I.”
Hakem was quick on his toes. Grace scurried off to fulfill his request hastily. I stared at the regal gentleman before me, waiting to feel what I’d been feeling over the last few weeks.
I quieted my thoughts to hear the beat of my heart. It wasn’t as loud or as thunderous as it had been lately. It was meek and somber and slowly beating in my chest.
“What have you been up to, Royce? What’s been keeping you lately?”
Ishmael.
The hammering began as his name crossed my mind. I placed a hand on my chest to keep my heart from escaping. It beat against its cage fiercely, wanting out. Wanting more. Wanting him.
“Work,” I admitted.
“You ever considered putting your briefcase down to enjoy the fruit of your labor?”
“Sounds torturous.”
A smile from Hakem had my lips curling upward as well.
“I, too, am addicted to the thrill. The rush. The multitasking. The risk. The uncertainty. It’s thrilling. Much like you.”
I closed my eyes.
Ishmael.
His name was like sugar on my tongue.
“Thank you.”
Hakem’s gaze was wavering. He rescued me from deep waters, bringing me back to safer grounds. Back to the moment.
“Tell me,” he paused, “Your profile has been active for months. I can’t help but wonder what it is you’re looking for in a partner.”
Ishmael.
I inhaled, closing my eyes again. Only briefly, as I tried shoving his name down my throat. He was everything I was in search of.
“Me.”
Gosh. I’m losing my mind.
I heard his voice so clearly. So closely. I forced my eyes open and tried pinning the smile Hakem was responsible for back onto my face. I failed.
I wasn’t losing my mind. And, Ishmael wasn’t in my head. He was standing before me with his hands gathered in front of him. His lips were rolled inward, tucked into his mouth. Veins sprouted from his hands. His nostrils were spread so wide I could see what he was thinking.
And feeling.
And neither were comforting.
Ishmael was dressed in black from his neck to his feet. He reeked of wealth and confidence. Lust oozed from his orbs.
But so did disappointment.
Anger.
Frustration.
And impatience.
His robe was short. His fuse was even shorter.
“Dismiss your guest, Royce.”
“Ishmael.” I chuckled, finding his presence rather comical.
Just hours ago, he was in front of cameras telling men to stop policing a woman’s real estate. Tonight, he was at a private dinner, policing a woman’s time.
“A walking contradiction, you are, sir.”
“I’m Hakem.” Hakem began to rise from his seat. “Nice to me–”
“Move another inch and I will empty the entire clip in your chest for even thinking about getting close to something that belongs to me.”
Hakem stilled.
It was at that moment that I remembered the unforgettable flaw.
He’s no soldier.
“Dismiss your guest, Royce, or I will fold his shoulders and head together with one blow to his neck. If he’s lucky, he will survive a crushed windpipe, but the chance is highly unlikely.”
I turned my head in the opposite direction. Collecting myself felt impossible.
“Royce.”
“Goodnight, Hakem.”
I faced my date, who was partially confused and fully unprepared for the hell I knew Ishmael would bring.
Hakem was a very smart man. He stood, quietly making his exit. I lowered my gaze, fixing it on the contents of the table. As much as I wanted to call Ishmael’s bluff, I didn’t want Hakem to lose his life because of it. There was a chance he would.
Ishmael took the seat Hakem once occupied. The wine was delivered as his bottom touched the cushion. Grace was perplexed, but poured a glass of wine for us both anyway. Ishmael refused his. I pulled my close for comfort, placed it at my lips, and took a big sip.
I didn’t bother with the proper etiquette. I didn’t give a damn how the wine smelled. For now, I cared about its potency. I needed it to numb the nerves that were splitting rapidly and uncontrollable.
“I’ll have cognac. Neat.”
“Yes, sir. Can I get you two started with appetizers?”
Ishmael nodded. His orbs were fixed on me.
Unmoving. Unblinking. Unchanging.
“Bring us the best in the house.”
“I can do that for you.”
“Thank you.”
Grace disappeared, leaving us alone again. I matched Ishmael’s gaze. My heart was unsteady. So was my breathing. Fine bumps riddled my skin. Everything quieted around us.
“What are you doing?” I didn’t recognize my voice. Neither did I recognize myself.
“I’m pretending to be your man, Royce. Isn’t that the route you chose instead of paying to make this shit go away?”
Ishmael leaned forward.
“I’ve never been one to half-ass, my baby. As my woman, I’m expecting your undivided attention, unwavering support, and faithfulness. I can’t have the word on the streets being that the future mayor can’t keep his woman on a leash.”
As Ishmael sat back, I pulled his glass of wine closer. It would be silly to allow it to go to waste.
Admittedly, I was amused. But, undoubtedly, I was smitten. I could listen to Ishmael talk shit for hours without growing tired.
He was egotistical, but not too much.
He was haughty, but not too much.
He was confident, but not too much.
He was cocky, but not too much.
He was possessive, but not too much.
He was entitled, but not too much.
He was foolish, but not too much.
Ishmael was just the right amount of everything.
“Why didn’t you cancel the date?” He asked, crossing his right leg over his left and bringing his hands together.
He hadn’t looked over his shoulder once since he’d sat down. Rugger’s claims sat with me. He wasn’t worried about dying tonight, because he knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to allow it and neither was I.
I didn’t have an answer to his question. So, I didn’t respond. I kept my eyes fixed on him, falling deeper into his trance with each breath I took. Lovingly, hopelessly, I adorn his handsome face.
“You are aware that this is all make believe, yeah?”
Ishmael uncrossed his legs, leaning forward again. He hesitated, choosing his words ever so carefully.
“Then make me believe it,” he demanded, “Because the shit happening in my head and heart ain’t made up. It’s real.”
I quieted, expanding and shrinking in my seat, simultaneously.