Prologue #3
Ninety-five percent of them will, at least. Though I hated to give men any type of credit, it was true that a handful used the opportunity to lock in and lock it down.
I wasn’t sure if I was ready for either, but Brandon was still here upon my return.
Asking.
Inviting.
Hinting.
Spending.
Hunting me down.
Naturally, I was curious. Curiosity and boredom had led me to this moment. He didn’t have much of my time to waste tonight. Business was calling. The second I felt anything but comfort in his presence would be the second our time together would end.
I pushed the button to shut down my screen and wrapped my hands around the doorknob. Simultaneously, I smoothed my hair to refresh my style.
“Good evening, Kimberly.”
My brows furrowed at the sound of the name Kimberly. I squeezed the knob, prepared to shut the door before realizing Brandon wasn’t calling me by my government name because I hadn’t given it to him.
Chuckling, lowly, I rolled my lips together, smoothing out my lip gloss.
I wanted to share the news that he had the wrong name, but decided against it.
The handsome, dark, and buff ex-NFL player had spent nearly fifty thousand on Kimberly.
Royce was worth so much more. I wasn’t sure if he was ready to meet her yet, so it would be Kimberly for now.
“Good evening, Brandon.”
“For you,” he said, extending his right arm to hand me the beautiful bouquet.
Though my face remained pleasant, my thoughts were the farthest from it.
I hate flowers.
And dates, actually.
Men as well.
Talking stages, especially.
“Thank you.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“Elaborate.”
“Getting flowers. This must be your hundredth bouquet this year.” He chuckled.
“I had intentions of reserving my thoughts, but since you insist– I hate flowers. Don’t bring them again unless you don’t want me in your company.
And, make this your last time mentioning what another man has done for me.
Because then we’d have to talk about how you aren’t touching their gifts with a ten-foot pole.
Let’s try a bouquet of checks next time. Flowers don’t do shit but die.”
The words were at the tip of my tongue. Instead of letting them fly, I smiled with flared nostrils.
“If we’re going to hint at what other men have done for me in the past, I will have to mention how much of their budgets they reserve for me. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Just like that?”
I accepted the roses.
“Yes, love.”
I eased the blow with a word frequently used on women after a bunch of bullshit had been spewed.
“I think I’m in love already.” He laughed, placing his hand across his heart. “You ready?”
“Yes. One second. I need to put these in water.”
“I’ll be right here.”
The door closed behind me.
Click.
Clack.
Click.
Clack.
I strutted toward the kitchen. The top of the bouquet met the lining of the trash bag before toppling over and finding its way to the bottom. I squared my shoulders and twisted my body by the heel of my shoes.
Click.
Clack.
Click.
Clack.
I reopened the door. Brandon was still standing behind it.
“Ready?”
“I am.”
He lifted his hand, beckoning for mine. I stepped forward, knowing the loft’s door would lock behind me. So much had changed. I was still adjusting, but the changes were proving to be beneficial.
Hand-in-hand, Brandon and I obliterated the space between our bodies and the elevator. Not much time passed before we were in the rectangular cart waiting for the doors to reopen.
“You smell good,” he complimented.
“Thank you.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Oak.”
“I’m going to have to find that and buy you a lifetime supply.”
“It’s a limited edition.”
The elevator doors opened, urging us to exit.
“And you wore your precious fragrance for me?”
No. I wore it for me.
“Feel special yet?” I asked, stepping forward.
“I felt special the minute you agreed to go out with me. It only took eight years or some shit.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “I was occupied.”
“The wait wasn’t all that bad,” he lied.
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
Brandon sealed those pretty lips of his and stepped ahead of me, forcing the doors open with his presence alone. The automatic timer forced them closed once we were in the parking lot. My nostrils flared as the flesh on the inside of my mouth rolled between my teeth.
Loud music welcomed me into the night. The sound of my heels came to a halt near the awaiting vehicle. A time would be had tonight. This, I was sure of.
The pearl black ride was sickening. Its beauty was ravishing. It blended so well with the night. The crimson-colored brake pads were the perfect touch.
“A Lamborghini?” I asked, forging my surprise.
There wasn’t much I didn’t know about Brandon. I’d done my research. Nothing was impressive, not even his choice of vehicle. I had the same car. However, mine was reserved for the following year. The public didn’t have access to what I had. Not yet, at least.
His was pearl. Mine was matte. It was ghostly in the late hours. While it was hard to spot past eight-thirty at night, one could hear me coming from a mile away.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Been in one before, Kimberly?”
I shook my head, lying through the perfect teeth God had given me.
“I haven’t.”
Play sheep. Preserve the wolf.
It was the method to my madness when involved with men. I chose to appear harmless, helpless, and clueless as a boost to their ego. I was rewarded well.
You catch more flies with honey.
It wasn’t until those inflated egos needed to be handled that I unleashed the wolf within.
“First time for everything, love.”
I lowered my body into the car. Brandon raced around to the driver’s side.
The second his foot touched the pedal, he revved the engine.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood. The sound was so familiar.
It was the reason Teddy made the purchase.
He loved seeing the smile on my face as I watched Roulette race down the freeway.
The liberation I felt was inexplicable. I’d tried to put it into words a hundred times, but couldn’t. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. Chemistry just knew. He always did.
I pulled the seatbelt across my body, preparing for takeoff. It was swift and rightfully so. In my opinion, there was no sense in having the engine if you weren’t going to use it. We put so much of my family’s past behind us, clearing the lot of the loft and heading straight for the freeway.
My right hand caught the fierce wind, welcoming the turbulence it offered. With my eyes closed, I etched the feeling of limitlessness in my brain for the eighteen hundredth time. My body swayed to the sound of Future and Sza. The collaboration was an instant hit in my head.
Four songs played on the stereo before we pulled into the parking lot of Prime House. The chophouse was a true staple in our circle, owned by a business associate and someone Chemistry was rather fond of.
Hadn’t I known better, I would call Abel a friend of Teddy’s, but Teddy didn’t have friends.
He had sisters. There were too many emotions to manage and too much work involved with us to have any more friends.
His brother-in-laws were the closest he had to friendships, yet they were still connected to his sisters. All of them.
“Ma’am–” the valet attendant urged my exit by extending a hand in my direction.
I accepted his offer and stood on my feet right beside him. He was merely five foot nine inches. Effortlessly, I towered over him. Height was a given in my family. My father’s legs were long like stilts. My mother was nearly five eleven. My siblings and I had it honest.
“Thank you.”
“Kimberly,” Brandon called out, beckoning for me.
By his side, I allowed his fingers to rest between mine.
Physical touch. I studied him like an open book.
“Good evening, Ma’am. Sir,” the hostess greeted us with a brimming smile.
Her eyes landed on Brandon and never left.
Stand the fuck up.
I bit my tongue, pushing my words deep down my throat. If I’d been sucking his dick for three years without a commitment, ring, or compensation, my orbs would automatically program themselves to avoid him and anyone who even favored him. However, Brittany wanted to be acknowledged.
Her pride was bruised. Validation was riding her coattail. And, she was still in love with a man who only loved what she offered his life–not her. It was the downfall of so many great women. She was obsessed with the potential of them, not the reality of it all.
Nothing in his past was off limits during my search. My findings proved to be interesting. It confirmed what I already knew about most men. They deserved hell.
“Evening, Brittany,” I responded.
Her attention parted ways with Brandon, momentarily, as she stared at me. Openly observing me. Closely. Harshly. As if I gave a damn.
“How–”
I tipped my head toward her name tag, though I knew her name long before I’d read it.
Chuckling, she loosened her limbs. Her spine curled slightly as that beautiful smile came into full view.
Thinking she’d ever be a topic of conversation for a man who could give two shits about their rendezvous was quite optimistic for her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the case.
Her heart broke at the realization. Her smile faded. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and rounded the podium.
“This way.”
“I’ma hit the men’s room right quick,” Brandon informed me, planting a kiss on my left cheek.
“Okay.”
“I’ll find you when I come out.”
“Okay.”
I continued behind Brittany, catching up to her with ease. Heaviness kept her feet from moving as fast as they normally would. I was sure. Defeat was written all over her frame.
“Don’t do that,” I demanded, stopping her in her tracks.
“Excuse me?”
“That.”
“What is that exactly?”
“Give a man a chance to darken your spirit.”
Continuing, she sniggered. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”