DISTURBED
“Good afternoon. Welcome to Sugar Honey Iced Tea . Are you ready to order?”
“Gimme the Cubano, and—”
Her .
A survey of my surroundings caused my gaze to cement toward heaven.
Heaven had a name. A look. A signature scent and an undeniable feeling I had yet to experience fully. Mahogany-toned legs, ample breasts, plush lips, thick baby-faced cheeks, and bright, playful fucking eyes…
Give me her alongside a bag of fucking chips and a tall glass of water .
Stalled, my words gathered between my chest and mouth, refusing to be delivered verbally. Hesitation forced the waitress to study me with concern. Sugar Honey Iced Tea was laden with hungry souls seeking to assuage the pang of empty bellies. And while I, too, sought satisfaction, my hunger was of a different variety.
Around me, the raucous of forks and knives clinking against plates amongst nondescript conversations created a song of contentment. A brief start and stop downpour of rain prompted heightened humidity. The heat. The moisture. The dampness discouraged many souls from being seated outdoors. Inside, the restaurant was packed, yet I still located her .
“And take it to that table in the corner.”
“To the lady in the tweed peach mini dress?”
I hadn’t noticed her dress until the waitress brought it to my attention. As my gaze scoured Serenity’s frame, I took in the peach-colored dress adorned by the presence of thick, toned brown sugared legs crossed beneath the table. Peach was her color and scent. Intoxicating in both appearance and smell, it complemented her well.
Some nigga approached in a polo buttoned all the way to the neck. Awarding him a courteous smile, they chatted briefly before he clutched his chest as if she’d hurt his feelings. Before I rose to draw near, he took off, though it wouldn’t have mattered either way.
Again, she’d committed to that anxious bounce of her legs as the lotto of her attention returned to the laptop in front of her. Her feet were covered in black pumps. Wrapped around my neck, I’d have them shaking and bouncing for pleasure . Breaking my gaze, I confirmed with the waitress.
“That’s correct. I’ll be over there shortly.”
The promise I’d made not to disturb would be broken. Staying away from Busy Bee was far from an option. I rose, ambling toward the woman who’d caught my attention the two weeks prior. The familiar scent of peach and hibiscus invaded my olfactory system as I made yet another attempt to unsettle her the way she’d unsettled me.
Tucked behind a laptop and cat-eye-framed glasses, Serenity was committed to the task before her, failing to notice my presence as I slid into the seat.
“What are you working on today, Busy Bee?”
Slowly, manicured nails grabbed the lid of her laptop and pushed the screen downward. The way she’d managed to type with their length was both a wonder and impressive. Aggravation stained her face at the prospect of yet more unwelcome company. Swiftly, it was replaced with amusement as she recognized the face matching the voice of who’d disturbed her.
That lame nigga from earlier got dismissed. I got a smile.
“ Oh . Hi, Duke.”
Affection, admiration, and astonishment carried her tone. The soft and sweet way she called my name inflamed nether regions.
“Hi, Gorgeous.”
“What are you doing here?”
Her face splintered into a smile, relaxing the unsteady shaking of her leg. The crescendo of her chest was noted as a breath was liberated. She swallowed, blinked, and deepened her smile. A nigga took comfort in the conviction that my presence held such power.
“Eating lunch,” I announced just as my Cubano and a carafe of water alongside an empty glass were brought to the table.
“Do you all need anything else?” The waitress asked, interrupting an intense…whatever the fuck was happening between us.
Without delay, my attention returned to the brown-sugared beauty beside me. “Do we need anything else, gorgeous?”
Repugnant, my attraction, my attention, and my submission to her comfort was. Her ease was paramount, as was her satisfaction. It came freely. That desire to ensure her well-being. Already, I knew she’d be a fucking problem.
“I think I have everything I need,” she confessed, biting back a smile.
A response that swelled my ego.
“How have you been?” I asked, piercing into my sandwich and chewing as I waited for an answer.
Serenity closed her laptop fully and slid it aside. Her eyes followed as lettuce fell from my lips to my beard.
“You—”
She reached out to dust away the food lingering in the curls of my goatee.
An opportunist .
The slight movement was far from innocent, granting her a reason to touch my face. Not minding the least, I paused. She paused. My gaze fell to her lips, eyes, and lips again before retraining them on her face. I wanted those juicy motherfuckers in my mouth and around my dick. Hastily, she withdrew her hand.
“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Your beard is impeccable. The sight of food messing it up bothered me.”
My face darkened with her words, speaking volumes in contrast to my honey-toned skin. She could mess up my beard . Anytime and place. We could bother each other.
“You should.”
“I should?”
“Help yourself. I’m not opposed to your touch,” I flirted, taking the last bite of the sandwich. The rest would be packed away. My appetite had since shifted, hungering for the exquisite soul before me.
With an arm propped up on the table, Serenity held her head and blushed. Deep mahogany skin flushed beneath light makeup. Tinted lip gloss was fenced by brown lip liner. A devil for details she was, and I craved to fuck it all up.
“You didn’t answer me.”
“What were you asking?” Slightly, her head tilted in my direction. Her legs shifted toward me. Body linguistics snitched of a soul’s intent. Always snitched.
“How has your week been?” I asked, recalling the way her leg still anxiously rocked.
She sighed. “It’s been busy. All work and no play.”
“—Makes Serenity a dull girl?”
“ Yesss , it’s been a hell of a week between prepping for an art show I’m co-curating, the charity auction in a few months, and…”
“Busy with your expansion project?”
“ Yeah ,” she sighed.
It explained why her honeyed voice hadn’t crossed my device since meeting her. I was a patient man waiting for the day she decided to use my digits, though if I truly wanted, I could have had her number and called by now.
“I took your advice, too.”
“ Advice ?”
“About the spa. It was seamless, by the way. You give good insight. I might need you on my consulting team.”
Splendid . She was splendid for my ego.
“Is that what you were working on before I advertently disturbed you?”
Her glance at the laptop and a nod confirmed my suspicions. “But Duke, you can always disturb me.”
“Don’t tempt me, Serenity,” I warned, tucking away the invitation for a more seasoned time. “Let me see what’s gotten your nerves keyed up.”
“Um—”
Up and down, her chest fell. She licked her lips. She cleared her throat. Again, her chest rose, highlighting the Tiffany locket around her neck.
“The laptop , gorgeous,” I motioned to the device, wiping my face of Cubano crumbs.
The next half hour was spent reviewing Serenity’s proposal. Closer, she slid near me in the booth as I made changes and suggestions to her recommended strategy. Besieged by peach and hibiscus, it made control of my hands an impossible fucking task. Hooking a hand around her ankle, I slid the slingback from her foot and massaged her sole while still scrolling through the document.
No more shaking .
Briefly, Serenity’s eyes closed, and she emancipated a low, syrupy moan. Fighting to maintain focus, I trained my gaze back to the computer’s screen. The ‘investment judgment’ and ‘recommendation’ portion of her pitch could use a few tweaks as well, I noted—
Fuck , baby.
Eyes still closed, she was enjoying my impromptu massage. Giving me a glimpse of how she’d look steeped in pleasure.
Focus nigga .
Reluctantly, I stayed the course, highlighting my changes to the proposal. She needed to open her damn eyes. She needed to stop moaning like that. She needed to tilt her head upright. I needed to let her foot go. Doing so proved impossible tasks for us both.
“Don’t you have people that can look this over?” I probed, unsure why she was even bothering with a proposal. The Millers had significant wealth at their disposal, enough to allow Serenity whatever her heart desired. Enough not to need to draft a proposal for anything.
“I do. I just don’t care for their… insight .”
“Hmm.” I scratched my beard.
“They can be a bit overbearing.”
“Heard,” I spoke, knowing all too well the travails of an overbearing family structure. Freeing one foot, I grasped the other, issuing the same massage. My hands crept upward toward her ankle and calf, freeing a season of tension. The aroma of stress made its presence known, spilling from her pores as pleasure crept in slips from her lips. Overwrought and tense, Serenity wore that weight like the latest fashion. Only a skilled set of eyes could take notice.
“You should be able to sway anyone in your favor with that pitch now. Are you converting to a slide deck?”
“I am. Yeah,” she nodded, sighed, and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear.
“Good. Well…” Returning the slingback pump to its rightful place, I freed her foot with a heavy breath.
“You’re leaving.”
I had to . I had to get the fuck away from her before I took her to the bathroom, hiked up her peach dress, and bent her pretty ass over the sink.
Her face fell with the revelation.
“You have my number, Busy Bee. At any point, if you find yourself requiring yet another disturbance , I’ll make time.”
Placing a bill on the table, I rose, fighting the inclination to kiss her lips as we parted ways.
Two hours .
The most prolonged two hours of my life. Colonial Holdings , the parent company of Colonial Pipeline , served a singular purpose. We bought smaller companies and controlled ownership interests. My father stepped down from our parent company, which was launched over a decade ago by me. Gracefully and thankfully, he bowed out of his position on the board in favor of Wednesdays on the green.
My grandfather, however? The patriarch of our family wielded the gift of gab. At the helm of the oblong table, he stood going off on unrelated tangents about shit that didn’t concern us. My gaze directed to the list of shit that did.
Mergers and acquisitions .
Beyond my futile study of our meeting’s agenda, my grandfather ranted and raved.
Duke Stepford, I .
The man was old, with more years behind him than in front. Despite everyone’s best interest in moving forward with the meeting, I’d regrettably let him cook. His ass had overcooked now. Two hours too long.
“And on Mondays, a taco bar would raise employee—
“Duke,” I cut in and stood, stalking toward the front of the table.
There was Duke, then was Junior, and regrettably me, D3 . My grandfather had christened me the moniker. Detest was far too light of a word to describe my feelings toward the nickname, but it worked. Instead of us all answering by the same name when we were in the same room, there were the three differentiators.
My hand grasped his shoulder from behind once I’d made it to the front of the room. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re passionate about the well-being of our employee’s bellies, but we’re in the middle of a huge acquisition.”
“ I know . I know , D3, but we can’t forget about company culture…”
Beyond a discussable issue, our company culture was flawless. Colonial employees worked diligently but played even harder.
Chuckling, I escorted my grandfather to the door where Sheila, my executive assistant, was present to lead him down the elevator and out of the building.
Once the digression was handled, we got down to business, addressing highlighted discrepancies with our latest subsidiaries. The list was extensive and a most ambitious move on my part. One particular company I sought to save from public ruin. Though risky for business, it was also beneficial. If the acquisition went through without any issues —public or otherwise— it would offset some of our tax liability and possibly yield a profit.
A vote was taken with a seven-to-one win. My grandfather, adamant to voice his discontent, video-phoned in to confirm he was against the buy. Whatever . A win was a win. The meeting adjourned briefly after, with me stifling a grin and the desire to beat my chest.
Years ago, I worked tirelessly, placing needless strain on my mind and physical body. Those were prior years when I sought to prove a thing to my father. At the present age, that shit didn’t sit well. Working hard . Wearing my mind and body down. Been there. Done that. I’d paid my dues. My workday had come to a close. The need to overtax myself was nonexistent.
Before departing from the realm of Colonial , I stalked toward Sheila’s office. Busy drafting up memos and organizing emails, she didn’t notice me.
“ Sheila She ,” I knocked on the open door of her office, announcing my presence.
“ Yes ,” she crooned, not tearing her gaze from the computer’s screen. Everyone under my employ was a workaholic to varying degrees. It ensured the continued success of our business. Smoothly and fluidly, our ship sailed. Sheila was no different.
“Do a workup on somebody for me. Serenity Miller .”
The impromptu lunch with Serenity left me covetous and curious about the young, ambitious beauty related to Supreme. Undoubtedly, she checked out from what I’d seen in person, but as a man of my caliber, I still needed to enact due diligence to ensure my safety. A background investigation would be prudent prior to pursuing her in any shape, form, or fashion.
Sheila froze. Her eyes flitted in my direction, issuing several blinks.
“What kind of workup? A light inquiry or a deep probe?”
“Deep as it goes, Sheila She.”
Ignoring her astonishment, my limbs rotated toward the direction I’d come.
“And Sheila?” I paused.
“Y–yes Mr. Stepford?”
“Don’t use Daughtry. Exercise discretion.”
Daughtry was under the Miller’s employ. His loyalty rested with the family. Utilizing his services would cause red flags to be raised in response to any inquiry. Stealth was required for the information I sought.
“As you wish, Mr. Stepford.”
The Penthouse domiciled on the twentieth floor of Gray Hotel was beyond satisfactory. From the private elevator entrance to the panoramic windows, the interior décor was impeccable. Massive windows opened to a perpetual pulse of the city.
An airy living room was flanked by an open-concept kitchen and a wide hall that led to three bedrooms. Wall lighting added to the sultry mood of the space. The penthouse’s covered terrace boasted contemporary outdoor furniture, a fire pit, a concrete garden, and a hot tub. Sex and sophistication wept from the walls of the esteemed dwelling. Gray was a space that attracted souls of the same caliber.
For now, the suite was the place I’d call home. With the mansion that I once shared with Mya now on the market, renting the penthouse took the strain off searching for a place to live. Beyond suitable, it exceeded my needs and overstepped my expectations.
The twenty-four-hour state-of-the-art gym exclusive to guests and residents on the top floors was exemplary and equipped with a heated pool. Transformed from CEO to regular Joe, I exited my new home dressed in a cutoff shirt, running shorts, and Nike dunks covering my feet. The gym was my destination.
Ten seconds and five feet from my door, my nostrils swelled with the familiar and intoxicating fragrance. Amber, coffee, and bergamot danced on the tip of my nose. She was here . Invading my domicile, my private space, she reminded me that no place in this city could be left unscathed from her presence.
“Duke.”
“ Mya ,” Nostrils flared, I sneered, willing venom into the two syllables of her name. She siphoned air from the atmosphere. The pollution of her presence caused my muscles to involuntarily tense.
Twelve months dissipated, granting grace not to cross paths with the woman. Today, such favor fell short. Despite our distance, thoughts were plentiful, but words were few. She didn’t deserve my eyes, my voice, or any form of attention. She was unworthy of any energy supplied, including dissension. Grasping the fact, my quest for vengeance had subsided, as did the space in my heart for her.
“What are you doing here?” She asked as if she still maintained such a privilege. As if she owned the fucking building. As if I still owed her such courtesy.
“My comings and goings are none of your motherfucking business.”
Opting not to linger, I continued toward my destination. One foot ahead of another, my dunks carried me out of her proximity.
Thirstily and wordlessly, she watched me. Her limbs stiffened. As she subsided from my vision, I imagined her jaw collapsed as well. Hastening my stride, I forged distance between my past and present. Mya’s footsteps halted at the elevator. Not daring to turn around, I sensed her gaze as I paused at the end of the long hallway where the glass doors to the gym were.
As I shuffled my pockets for the keycard inside the state-of-the-art facility, her voice graced my ears yet again.
“I can have your head, you know?”
She tossed the empty words down the hall.
“All I need to do is show those girls what you sent me. They’ll sue your ass so deep, you’ll be shitting cash from now until the day you meet your grave,” she shouted the threat.
Try me, Mya .
Though grinning, I issued no response.
Endorphins, serotonin, and dopamine were my objectives, not going back and forth in a verbal spat of empty threats from her and heavier promises from me. This was her MO. Gaslight until a fire erupted between us. Luckily I’d learned how to Class B extinguish her ass. With a tap of the keycard, I pushed forward, entering the space where my burdened pathos would be laid to rest.