Chapter 9
Wesley
It was late.
She was late.
Three o’clock had come and gone, and I’d spent the day waiting for Albany to arrive. In that time, the only communication she’d sent was in response to my earlier message asking her ETA.
Bug: I’ll get there when I get there.
To a stranger, it might have seemed like I didn’t have my shit together.
Especially considering the Ms. Tea situation.
Yet, I thrived in my job because I kept a schedule.
I had a routine that involved breakfast, work, gym, lunch, work, dinner, work.
Sometimes, I ended my night with a no-strings hookup.
Most times, I ended my night with more work. Rarely did I deviate from my routine.
“What are you doing here?”
“You’re late, Bug,” I grumbled, snapping my laptop closed.
Albany planted her hand on her hip. “I had things to take care of.”
“What happened to three o’clock?” I stuffed my computer into my bag and stood. “You’re two hours late.”
“I never said that I’d be here at three,” she retorted. “In case you forgot, I move on my own schedule.”
My current predicament was my own fault.
Anyone else who’d behaved the way I did at the fundraiser would no longer be employed by Batchelor Corp.
Fortunately, Granny didn’t go that far. Unfortunately, she put me on “Albany Duty” until further notice.
Meaning my job duties now entailed overseeing the investigation into the mysterious blogger intent on ruining my life.
It also meant that my only task for the day was ensuring my ex-girlfriend was settled into her new apartment.
Therefore, my office was the lobby of Batchelor Place today.
My workstation was the sofa near the window.
No dual monitors, no comfortable chair, no privacy.
Sure, I could’ve gone upstairs, but I’d wanted to be on hand when she arrived.
Things went from bad to worse when the concierge had a family emergency and had to leave.
Since I wasn’t the jerk people thought I was, I offered to watch the desk so he could go see about his wife.
In essence, I was now doing three fucking jobs.
While I was the acting concierge. I tried not to think about all the work I wasn’t getting done today. The contracts I had to review, the meetings I had to reschedule, the data that needed to be analyzed … everything was on hold.
Hell, yeah, I’m irritated.
Closing my eyes, I willed myself not to react in the way I would’ve if, say, Erica had pulled this shit.
Albany was not my sister, though. Despite my irritation with her in this moment, I still wanted to fuck her.
Possibly multiple times over a long period of time.
Maybe forever. More than that, I needed her to get me out of this situation with Ms. Tea.
I took a few deep, calming breaths before I met her waiting gaze. Damn, she’s stunning.
The oversized sweats and ratty T-shirt she’d worn earlier had been replaced with black leggings and a thin gray tank under a ripped blue jean shirt.
The brim of her Detroit Tigers baseball cap covered her eyes.
I wanted to pin her against the wall and unwrap her like a fragile gift on Christmas morning. Slow. Careful.
“Wes?” She snapped her fingers in my face. “You can go now.”
Hendrix emerged from the elevator, his attention on his phone as he walked past the concierge desk.
“Hey, Hen,” she said.
My cousin glanced up and smiled. “What’s up, Albany?” When he noticed me in my little office space, he frowned. “What’s up, brotha? What are you doing down here?”
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Actually, I’m curious, too,” Albany chimed in. “I asked him the same question and he’s yet to answer.”
I pinned her with my gaze. “Why does it matter to you?”
Albany folded her arms over her breasts. “Still didn’t answer my question.”
“I do live here,” I replied.
Hendrix snorted. “Barely.”
A couple of years ago, Granny purchased the commercial property.
While it was once an office building, she’d made the decision to transform it into residential space.
Once the project was done, she’d offered all her grandchildren units, which I’d accepted with no hesitation.
However, I’d declined to live in the condo full-time.
I preferred to get out of the city to my place in Novi, Michigan.
The northwestern suburb of Detroit was close, yet far enough to create much-needed distance from my family.
The proof was in the interactions I’d had with certain family members today.
It was Monday, so I knew I’d see many of my cousins.
What I didn’t expect was most of them to walk over and strike up a conversation, mostly about my actions at the fundraiser.
Jackson wasn’t a favorite cousin by a long shot—for anyone.
Even his siblings didn’t seem to care for him—or anything else for that matter.
When my cousin, Amelia, strolled through the lobby, she spent the entire time cackling with her friend, on speakerphone, about the guy she’d had sex with last night.
Common courtesy wasn’t her strong suit, and just like her brother, she spent most of her workday getting paid for bullshit tasks doled out by their father.
The only person I hadn’t run into today was Jackson.
Good thing, because any interaction would’ve ended with my fist against his jaw.
It was bad enough that he’d goaded me into losing my temper, but he’d continued acting like a damn victim all day.
According to Erica, who stopped by to see me on her way to her apartment, he’d shown up for a meeting with a turtleneck on.
During a heatwave. Of course, when sweet Mrs. Jeffries from Accounting asked him why he was wearing a sweater in eighty-eight-degree weather, he’d given her a whole sob story about being choked for simply asking me if I was okay.
Fuck him.
“I know you keep an apartment somewhere else,” Albany said. “There’s really no need for you to still be here. Boston told me he dropped my stuff off an hour ago.”
Our classmate, Boston, owned the moving company Granny had contracted.
He’d always had a crush on Albany and never missed a chance to show off when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Earlier, his punk ass casually mentioned he wanted to take her out.
No surprise he called her after finishing the job.
Probably talked her ear off about his new Range Rover and condo on the Detroit River, too. That’s just how he operated.
“He also mentioned you had a bad attitude,” she added, a mischievous gleam in her brown eyes. She knew what she was doing, just like she knew I couldn’t stand that snake-ass muthafucka. “I can’t believe you slammed the door on him.”
Hendrix barked out a laugh. “He probably deserved that shit, Albany. You know Boston is a damn clown.”
My guy. It didn’t matter what happened, wrong or right, Hen was going to have my back. “Exactly,” I agreed. “You should be thanking me for making sure he didn’t drop anything valuable. You know he’s clumsy as fuck. And he was hanging around waiting to ask you out.”
“And?” she said with a shrug. “I’m single. Maybe I wouldn’t mind going out with someone like Boston. He owns a successful business. He’s not a fuck boy. He’s—”
“A clown?” Hendrix asked.
Albany rolled her eyes. “No.” She punched Hendrix’s shoulder. “He’s a gentleman. He goes to church every single Sunday, serves on the usher board and everything.”
Hendrix cracked up dramatically, nearly falling on the small couch he was leaning on. “That’s funny. I just saw him at the strip club last week.”
She arched a questioning brow. “What were you doing at the strip club?”
“Minding my own business,” Hen replied nonchalantly.
“Still,” she pressed, “Boston was paid to do the job. You shouldn’t have treated him like that, Wes.”
“Batchelor Corp values Black and local businesses,” I retorted. “That’s the only reason he got the job.”
Albany blew out a frustrated breath. “Whatever. You can go home now.”
“I am home,” I insisted. And I was sure I’d be staying downtown for the foreseeable future.
“I hope you don’t think you have unlimited access to me now that I live here. I’ll walk out that door and take my chances with Granny.”
“I’m sure you will.” I folded my arms over my chest. “We have to make the best of this situation, though. The sooner we figure out Ms. Tea’s identity, the sooner you don’t have to be around me.”
Who am I kidding? Now that she was here, I had no intention of letting her go again. I knew it the moment she’d taken pity on me at that fundraiser, offered me an ear, and a little understanding. I wanted Albany Latia Keyes. And I was willing to walk through fire to make her mine again.
“Excuse me?” she exclaimed. “We? How many times do I have to tell you? We don’t work together.”
“Do me a favor?”
“I know you fuckin’ lying,” she said incredulously. “Why would I do anything for you? Because I was nice to you one or two times?”
“Humor me.”
She narrowed her eyes on me. “What?”
“Can you let your guard down for a few seconds? You’re so stiff right now. Back straight. Chin up. It looks painful.”
“I don’t—” She glared at me. “What does my posture have to do with anything?”
“If we’re going to work together, you—”
“We’re not. This is my job. I told you I don’t need your help.”
“And I told you that your job impacts my livelihood.”
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you slept with your client’s daughter,” she tossed back.
I stretched my neck to relieve some of the tension that had set in. “I told you I didn’t sleep with her,” I muttered. “And we’re working together on this.”
“I work for myself,” she said, clapping her hands together with each word. “Hired as a contractor by Granny. Not you.”
“Semantics.”
“Truth.”