7. Koi #3
For the rest of the morning, I hardly worked while looking over the few outfits I brought.
I don’t know why I cared how I looked in front of Roman, especially after he done had my legs spread wide open, pussy in the air, and his face buried in between my thighs.
Yet I scanned over the leggings and biker shorts as if something was gonna change.
This was supposed to be a chill couple of days. My intention wasn’t to meet anyone, and now I was linking with him for lunch. Annoyed, I wanted to cancel, but I didn’t know where he was staying. Then a part of me was too nervous to go downstairs and ask.
I blame Marcel. He was the one who had me naive and oblivious to the dating world. All for him to turn around and play in my face. If I had left long ago, I would know how to date and move around a nigga. But no, I was shy, giddy, and really didn’t even know what I liked in a dude.
“Pull it together. It’s just lunch. Nothing more, nothing less. He’s married.” I tried to coach myself, but the damage was already done. He was expecting me in thirty minutes, and I had yet to throw on an outfit.
The gray biker shorts and oversized black tee would have to do.
I paired it with my black scrunch socks and black and white Nike Dunks.
I pulled my curls to the front, twisting them with gel so they hung perfectly, while slicking the right side a little.
I put the oversized Prada frames on my face, grabbed my Prada nylon purse, and sprayed a few spritzes of Chanel No 5 on the nape of my neck and the inside of my wrist.
My laptop was in my laptop bag under my left arm, and I had my room key in hand. I stepped out of my room, let out a sigh, and inhaled deeply. Why I was nervous all of a sudden was beyond me.
I got to the rooftop a few minutes after two. The hostess greeted me. “You must be Koi?” Side eyeing her, I didn’t budge. “Mr. Jones said he would be expecting you soon.”
“How you know how I look?”
“He described you well. I’m good at knowing who people are.” I nodded, following behind her. She led me to a spot closest to the waterfall. The scenery was dope and the lighting was perfect.
“Good afternoon, beautiful.” Roman got up from his chair, pulled out mine before kissing my cheek. I knew his lips were soft, but when they brushed up against my skin, I wanted to turn slightly so our lips would meet.
“Hey you. You look handsome.” I gave him the once over, taking in his attire. He was dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans and a black Polo shirt. The Cuban link lay up against his chest, under his shirt, showing just enough to let you know he was far from broke, but he wasn’t a flashy nigga.
“Are you hungry or did you eat some more?”
“You’re the only one who ate more than the food sir,” I fluttered my lashes. “I’m starving.”
“Good. They make a good steak, lobster and shrimp dish, are you allergic or can I order you that?”
“Steak only, please,” I requested.
“Sounds like a plan. Laptop?” He pointed to the bag.
“I planned to work the rest of the day up here. Why? I can’t?”
“I’m just saying, I took off the rest of the afternoon. One hour with you isn’t enough.”
“Well, as much as I want to do that. I have work, and besides, I’ve taken off enough in the past week. I know they’re sick of me.”
“Hmm. Well, let me enjoy this hour I have with you then.” He lifted his glass of water. “I know you know I’m far from young, so Ima get straight to it. Why you single?”
“Well damn. Why are you married?” I countered back.
“It’s complicated, but it works for us.”
“My story is ghetto, and I’d like to forget about the betrayal for just a moment.”
“Touché.” He lifted his glass of water. “Are you having a drink or you’re behaving on the clock?”
“Do I look like I behave?” I flagged down the waiter and ordered a Cosmo.
Roman and I sat and talked until he had gotten an important call. With my laptop out, going over some QuickBooks, I realized I hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.
He was standing near the balcony, looking directly at me as I leaned back in the chair and couldn’t help but think.
Roman was fine.
Not the kind of fine that needed designer labels, flashy jewelry, or a loud personality to get attention either. The man walked into a room and somehow became the room.
Standing a little over six feet, he was built exactly how a grown man should be.
Broad shoulders. Wide chest. Thick arms that stretched the sleeves of his shirt just enough to make you notice.
He wasn't one of those gym obsessed men who looked pretty but couldn't carry a case of water.
Roman looked strong. Confident, but not cocky.
His dark skin was smooth, complemented by a salt and pepper beard that sat perfectly along his jaw line. The gray mixed into the black somehow made him look even better. Like life had put a little seasoning on him instead of aging him.
Everything about him screamed grown.
The calm way he talked. The patience in his eyes. The confidence that didn't require an audience.
Roman wasn't trying to impress anybody, and that was probably why he was so damn impressive.
Looking at him, it was easy to believe women threw themselves at him. The harder thing to figure out was why he was standing across from me looking like I was the one worth staring at when he had a ring on his finger.