Chapter 3
THEODORE
I let her walk away believing she got away with it. She can have that for a few more hours.
Desiree has been testing me for four years, and she knows exactly how far to take it.
The attitude, the slow walk, making me wait while she pretends she isn’t doing it on purpose.
I let it ride at her clinic. That’s her place of business, and I don’t correct my woman in front of people who don’t belong inside what we do.
She knows I’ll deal with her tonight.
I stop by the house after the delivery alert comes through. Perfect. Exactly where I told them to leave it. Once I grab it and set it in the foyer, I head back out.
I take the surface streets toward the interstate, one hand on the wheel, already thinking through what comes next after this Africa acquisition closes.
A struggling CPA firm with good clients, bad margins, sloppy lease terms, and partners too proud to admit they’ve been bleeding money for years.
I don’t buy businesses already running well.
I buy the ones with money trapped under bad habits, then restructure the leases, staffing, systems, and client retention before pride finishes killing what can still make money.
That kind of business always tells on itself.
The numbers just say it cleaner than the people do.
My phone rings before I can make it to the second light.
Curtis.
“Talk to me.”
“You sitting down?” he asks.
“Aw shit. What is it now?”
“Geneva got moved up. Friday.”
I lean back in my seat. “With Veer Brock?”
“Yeah. And before you start, I’m not walking into that room without you. Lagos right after if it goes the way I expect it to.”
The horn of a 2026 pearl black Infiniti QX80 cuts through traffic behind me, but I’m still on Curtis’s last words.
“Man, for how long?”
“Two weeks,” he says. “Just give me two weeks.”
While Curtis talks, I’m already rearranging the next two weeks in my head. Geneva changes the front half. Lagos takes the rest. My team can handle the office; that’s why they’re my team.
“Damn, Curtis. Alright.”
“My man. I’ll send you the updated information by the end of the day. Tell Desiree I said don’t cuss me out too bad.”
“You’re not the one she’ll be cussing out.”
“Yeah, but somehow my name’s gonna still be in it.”
He’s not wrong. “I’ll handle Desiree.”
Curtis laughs. “I bet you will.”
Pressing the button on the steering, I end the call, and I sit there with traffic moving around me, already knowing she’s going to be pissed.
She’ll understand the business. She always does.
What she won’t like is two weeks across an ocean after spending all day running that mouth.
Now I have to tell her I’m leaving after I make good on the trouble she’s spent all day earning.
She’s been trouble since the beginning though.
The night she tried me, we were having dinner at a private donor reception neither of us cared about attending.
The room was full of expensive suits, louder laughs than necessary, and people pretending they weren’t studying everybody else.
Desiree sat beside me in a dress that knew exactly what to do with her hips, hair pulled back, pecan-brown shoulders bare and smooth, posture saying she had standards most people in that room couldn’t afford.
But that wasn’t what kept my attention. It was the way she let people underestimate her just long enough to make correcting them worth her time.
She smiled when she felt like it, answered questions when they deserved an answer, and ignored the ones that didn’t.
I told her we were leaving after dessert.
She lifted her glass, took her time with the sip, then set it down like I hadn’t said a damn thing. “Not if I’m not ready to leave, we’re not.”
Everybody else kept talking.
Desiree smiled at me with those beautiful plump lips and the most gorgeous dimples showing like she knew exactly what she was doing.
She didn’t mind my control. She wanted to know what I’d do with all that attitude.
I didn’t check her at the table. That’s not my style. I reached for her hand instead, like I was about to stand anyway.
“Excuse us for a moment,” I said.
I helped her out of her chair and walked her out like a gentleman.
She came with me, hand in mine, not fighting me but not pretending she didn’t know what was coming either.
The second the door closed behind us, I stepped into her space and took her face in my hand, right along her jaw, turned her where I wanted her, and kissed her.
When I pulled back, I didn’t give her distance. Just rested my forehead against hers. To anyone passing by, they would have thought it was a lovey-dovey moment. But as my forehead rolled slightly back and forth against hers, I corrected her where she had no choice but to listen.
“You spoke clearly at the table, which means you wanted me to hear you as such. Don’t make a habit of being smart-mouthed with me in places. Alpha doesn’t like that.”
She placed her hands at my waist with a little pressure, and smiled a bit, never interrupting me.
“Tell me you understand.”
“What happens if you feel like my smart mouth or attitude goes too far?”
That’s when I knew Desiree wasn’t someone to be managed.
She’s someone you meet head-on or leave alone.
“If you want to keep pushing, I’ll show you what happens when Honey doesn’t follow Alpha’s rules once we get home.”
The memory stays with me through the rest of the drive.
Desiree’s text comes through while I’m crossing the lobby on my way to my office.
DESI
You had me coming home to change my panties. I’m really tired of you always creating problems.
Here she goes. Still testing to see what I’m going to do with her.
Your mouth been real smart today. You know what to expect tonight.
My assistant walks up with a tablet already in hand. “Curtis sent the Veer Brock file, sir.”
“Good.”
“Do you want me to clear Friday?”
She hands me the tablet, and I head for my office with my phone in one hand and the tablet in the other. The report finding is already open when I get to my desk. I drop my keys, set my phone beside them, and start reading.
On paper, the deal looks clean, which usually means somebody tucked the mess where they think I won’t find it.
Client retention is too polished. Payroll is too neat.
Equipment depreciation doesn’t match what they claim they own.
Somebody wants me looking at the purchase price instead of the problems hiding under it.
Lagos is going to take more than one conversation, and if Curtis is right, I’m not getting back quick at all.
Halfway down the first page, Desiree calls.
I decline it.
“Move Friday,” I tell my assistant. “Don’t clear it. And keep Curtis updated on every change.”
“Yes, sir.”
She leaves.
Forty-two seconds later, Desiree calls back.
This time, I answer.
“You came to my job, brought me flowers, kissed me in front of everybody, told me you’d deal with me tonight, and now you’re declining my call?”
“I was handling business.”
“Don’t play with me. You’re never too busy to take my call.”
“What do you need, Honey?”
“Theodore.”
“Desiree.”
“So now you want to sound like Kevin Hart talking to Ms. Green?”
I look down at the file. “I need you to go ahead and finish your day,” I tell her. “Go home. Eat something. Don’t work yourself into an attitude you know I’ll have to fix.”
She doesn’t answer.
“I’ll see you at home,” I say.
“Theodore.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t make me wait too long.”
“Oh, Honey. That’s the point.”