Page 22 of Give Me All Of You

After he helped me into the passenger seat of his black Aston Martin DB12. I loved this car, but I would never own one. For one, it wasn’t kid friendly and most importantly, I couldn’t afford it.

The first couple of minutes were quiet until his deep timbre penetrated the silence.

“So, how was your day?” He glanced over at me through the lens of his glasses, and I discreetly clenched my thighs together because this man was finer than any man I had ever seen.

“It was okay. I only worked a half a day, so I was glad about that.”

“That’s wassup. You like working for them niggas?” I could hear the possessiveness in his voice, even if he didn’t purposely do it.

“I do. They have been good to me since I’ve started working. They’re very understanding, especially when it comes to me being a mother.” He nodded.

“How was your day?” I countered.

“It was straight. I had a few meetings, but other than that, I can’t complain.” Every time I asked him anything pertaining to work, he would ignore it or overlook it, but not tonight he wasn’t.

“What is it you do? And before you try to sugarcoat it…don’t. Remember, I work for the Richmonds and sometimes after hours, so I know about their other work ventures. If you’re doing business with them, then you can’t be too far behind.” I folded my arms under my breasts, making them sit up more. I caught his eyes dart to my chest before he put them back on the road, then back to me. He studied my face for a second before he spoke.

“My family owns a freight yard. We have a few ports in a few countries where we bring illegal immigrants over and help them start a new life without all the legal shit in the way. We set them up with everything that they need to have the life that they always dreamed of. We also own a finance company, if that’s what you want to call it, along with a few other ventures that tie into those businesses,” he explained. I figured his family had to be into something but to hear that they were actually helping people was amazing.

“That’s different,” I expressed. “That’s so sweet that you all care that much about people to make sure that they get a fair chance.”

“It’s a means to an end, shorty.”

We pulled up to this restaurant called Aurora. I knew it was upscale because I would hear people talking about it, but I never had the luxury of coming until now.

Hassan pulled up to the valet and got out. He made it to my side before the attendant could open the door for me and did it himself. Once he helped me out, he left the attendant with specific instructions about how he would decorate the concrete with his insides if he scratched his car. If I was him, I’d leave it right there and say fuck him and his car. When we got inside, he gave the hostess his name and we followed her to the back of the restaurant in a more private, secluded area. She informed us that our waiter would be with us shortly and left us alone.

“This place is so nice.” I beamed.

“I had to pull out the big cards tonight.” he smirked.

“I appreciate the effort.”

The waiter came and Hassan ordered us a bottle of Dom Perignon and an order of grilled shrimp as an appetizer.

“That’s a lot of shrimp just for an appetizer,” I stated.

“I smoked a whole blunt to the face before I picked you up. Trust me, I’m going to eat one of those orders by myself.” He laughed.

“Big eater, huh?”

“You have no idea.” I caught the underlying message, and I wanted so badly to find out if that statement was true. Clearing my throat, I striked up a conversation to cut through the sexual tension in the room.

“So, it’s just you and Rakeem?” I asked.

“Yeah. Me and that nigga are exactly a year apart. Our birthday is June third. I was born in ‘97 and he was born in ‘98. It’s safe to say that our pops made sure our mama enjoyed her birthdays those two years.” We shared a laugh at his revelation. I thought that was cute that they were close in age and so close.

“I envy that. I’m an only child, and the way it’s looking, so will Infiniti unless Keith has more children,” I confessed.

“You want more kids?” he asked.

“I would like to have them, but like I said, my chances are slim.”

“You act like you’re old or something. You still have plenty of time. Don’t count yourself out.”

The waiter came back with our champagne and appetizer. Hassan was a man’s man because he ordered my food effortlessly after asking me did I have any allergies. After jotting our order down, the waiter left, and our conversation picked back up.

“Do you want kids one day?” I asked as I sipped the champagne that Hassan poured into my flute.

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