Chapter 3 #2
After parking, I grabbed my things and hopped out. It was a nice ass day. Warm, around seventy. A little too hot for the three-piece suit I had on but because I was on business, I jumped fresh in a tailored Armani and a pair of Ferragamo loafers.
The location the property sat on was primal.
Downtown Detroit. In the heart of the city.
Not too far from Hart Plaza, The Little Caesar’s Arena and Comerica Park.
So, there was a lot of hustle and bustle going on.
It wasn’t as secluded as I would have liked for it to be, but it was good.
The building held a lot of character, and I couldn’t pass up on it.
A lot of people would’ve taken one look at it and passed up on it.
It was run down and needed a ton of work.
Feigns had pretty much gutted it of all the metal, the heating shit, and everything in between.
So, I was practically starting over. I didn’t let that deter me, though.
Obviously. I viewed investments with a special pair of eyes.
This one especially. To the naked eye, this was a waste.
For me? It was a goldmine. It still had its antique flare to it.
A lot of the original craftsmanship was still in place, adding just the charm I needed for the hotel.
By the time I was done with it, the wait list for booking was going to be long as shit.
“Good morning Mr. Carter,” greeted head of construction, Louie, yelling over the loud power tools, once I walked inside.
I nodded at him and grabbed the hardhat he handed me. “Good morning, Louie. How’s everything going? What you got for me?” I yelled.
I hooked the hat on and put on a face mask before I turned my attention to the rest of the building.
From where we stood, there wasn’t much to take in.
The air was coated in sawdust, as was most of the material.
There was still a lot of work to be done, but since starting the project four months ago, they’d made a nice amount of progress.
“It’s coming along beautiful. You see? We’re working bossman,” he joked.
“Yeah, I see,” with a pause, I extended my hand for another handshake. “‘Preciate all of the work you and the team do, Louie. Ordered lunch?”
He nodded. “We did. Should be here around twelve. Thank you, Mr. Carter,” he added with a light nod.
I nodded at him and walked off, heading toward a small crowd gathered by a massive wall I had big plans for.
“You’re early—I appreciate that,” I said to my new interior designer, Mahogany, walking up to the team.
Mahogany whipped her head in my direction and adjusted her hardhat. “Good morning, Mr. Carter. We just got here about fifteen minutes ago.”
I extended my hand, and she paused, briefly looking down at it before finally placing her hand in mine.
“Good morning, Ms. Mills. You’ve been taken care of since you arrived, haven’t you?”
“Mrs. Mills-Morris. Or… Mrs. M. Whichever is easier for you, Crescent,” She corrected before nodding toward Gale and Nina, my assistants. “Yeah, it’s been great. Nina and Gale have been extremely helpful in the subject of Crescent Carter and Skylight Industries.”
I turned my mouth down and raised a brow. “Is that right?”
“Absolutely. I told her… you’re fairly easy. Black on black on black… on top of a little bit of matte black and you’re happy,” Nina said with a laugh.
“Oh. And a couple of touches of what’s that other color you love so much?” Gale asked, feigning ignorance.
Nina snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Black.”
We laughed and Mahogany’s lingering eyes wavered the minute I caught them.
She did the same thing when we met about a week ago.
Shied away whenever I caught her looking at me.
Was slow to shake hands. But as soon as she accepted it, it was as if it was meant to be there, it fit so good.
Dainty. Soft. Delicate. Feminine. Just like her.
She wasn’t just those things though. Mahogany was a powerhouse.
A force to be reckoned with in the interior design lane which was why she was mine.
I only employed the best and she was top tier.
Not just her designing, her in general. Her smile was infectious.
Her energy? Light and airy, heavy in the sway of her curvy hips.
She was a woman. A true woman. Smelled good.
Looked good. Felt good. Potent. Striking.
Alluring. When I met her, I wasn’t surprised by her track record.
She was hard to say no to. One look in her eyes and you were under that spell.
That’s what she was. Spell bounding. It was in her eye contact.
It was in her essence too, but her eyes? Feline. Magnetic. Hypnotizing.
Like a woman. A fucking woman.
It’d been a minute since I encountered one of those.
I fucked with bitches and hos, dealt with my fair share of females.
But a woman? Shit. One like her? Who owned the floor, the walls, and the air she stood in?
Never. Not once. Only thought about them and saw them portrayed in movies.
Never had I been face to face, hand in hand, energy to energy with one.
Shit felt amazing. Being in her presence.
Being bound by it. It was… fucking… infatuating.
I’d been in and dealt business with a lot of women.
But none of them were like her. Poised, polished…
. Refined. They wanted to stand out. Wore their masculinity on top of their femininity.
Shit was unattractive. Because they figured business was a man’s world, they walked around head high, invisible nuts swinging instead of handling shit like a woman.
To me, femininity would get them a lot further than chugging beers at the bar, acting like one of the men.
Mahogany was a breath of fresh air, for sure. Nothing like what I expected.
Did I want her? Bad. Since I met her. I couldn’t get the thought of her eyes out of my mind.
Couldn’t get the scent of her perfume out of my nostrils.
I didn’t have to be here. Could have sent one of my niggas to meet with her on site.
Could have treated her like any other contractor, but I couldn’t.
It had to be me. Yeah, it had to be me because the project was personal, but it had to be me for other reasons too.
I didn’t want them niggas anywhere near her.
They were under the shit too. Her spell.
Enamored. Niggas wouldn’t shut the fuck up about ‘brown skin’ after the meeting.
I had to reiterate the companies policy a few times. Had to recite it for my own good too.
Mahogany was off limits.
To my dick she was at least. Like this? Face to face…
exchanging energy? She wasn’t. I was bound by no limits as long as my clothes stayed on and my dick behaved.
Could get as hard as it wanted to… could think about her as much as I wanted to.
As long as I kept my hands, my tongue, and my dick to myself, it was cool.
I could do that. Could bathe in her scent.
Could be enchanted by her energy. Dick could brick the minute I laid eyes on her.
But… I could behave. I had control. An immense amount of self-control.
Mahogany, as beautiful and captivating as she was, was of no exception to that.
“Black is sophisticated,” Mahogany said with a polite smile. “But we’re going for something different with this location, right? Softer. Neutral. Inviting. You might have to put black on consignment for a while.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”
She cut her eyes at me. “You sure? I took a look at the portfolio and…”
Laughing, I interrupted. “Yeah, I’m sure. Whatever you think is best. I trust you.”
Silence lingered for a good five seconds before the tension in the area was split by the sound of louder construction equipment. Glancing over my shoulder and then back at her, I asked, “You’ve seen what you needed to see here, right?”
“Not exactly but if now’s not a good time we can reschedule for a quieter time of week!” She yelled over the noise.
“Right now, is perfect,” I told her, stepping closer into her space. “We can go over blueprints at the brunch spot around the corner if that’s okay with you Ms. Mills.”
Initially, she didn’t want to go over blueprints.
Said for first look, she had to be on-site.
Her creativity spoke to her best that way.
So, despite the construction, I let her have her way, knowing fully that it wouldn’t work out the way she thought it would.
I was like that. Bent the rules a little bit, complied…
for a pretty woman I was at least… just to seem flexible and to prove a point.
She laughed with a hint of annoyance but failed to correct her name. “Yeah, we can do that.”
I knew her name. Knew it before the first meeting.
After skimming through her social media accounts, I decided I would only address her as misses during the initial meeting.
Just to be polite. Just to show a bit of respect.
But to me her name wasn’t hyphenated. She didn’t have a husband.
Whenever she was with me, she would be Ms. Mills, despite how disrespectful it might’ve been.
I didn’t want her as a misses—I wanted her as a miss.
Didn’t want her as my designer neither. Wanted her on my dick.
The second I saw her smiling in one of her pictures.
Not the one that spread across her lips—the one I saw in her eyes.
He wasn’t in it. The pictures with him were lifeless.
The smile on her face, spread across her full lips, bright.
The one in her eyes? Missing. She wasn’t happy.
She was lacking. And I wanted to compensate.
Hated Nina for finding her. Appreciated her too because Mahogany was brilliant.
Her eye for design, immaculate. But shit…
why couldn’t I had found her sooner, on my own? Separate from business?