Page 62 of Deeper

Smart move. If I owned a fleet of expensive rides, I’d probably plant GPS tracking on them too.

“So, uh”—I cleared my throat—“I’m going to throw some pants on and swing by.”

His husky chuckle made me squirm. “You do that, pack that LV bag as well. I hope you can spare another weekend.”

“I work tomorrow night,” I said. “I’m off Sunday, so maybe I’ll come back.”

“Maybe?”

“Too much of me and you’ll OD.”

“Well, I wasn’t plannin’ on livin’ forever.”

I couldn’t explain how good it felt to be wanted, and not just for sex. After laying up and watching movies with him, I knew it was more. After trying to leave and having him hold me back, I knew it was more. After he stood up to the media and his sister for me, I knew it was more.

I took a shower and dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans combo before packing his LV bag with overnight essentials. I left enough room in the bag to stow away a backpack so I could bring my items back home with me. It was in doing this that I realized that I was once again stranded at Zander’s home in my driving his Bentley back to him. Somehow, we’d have to come to an understanding about my choosing to use a rideshare as opposed to using his cars. There was the chance he could drop me off, but I wasn’t about to let him see where I lived.

Victoria was a freelance makeup artist for a popular cosmetic company, making more than enough money to afford hermuchnicer apartment on the north side of Hemingway Park. This was simply the best I could do. My shower was so old the tiles were nearly falling off the wall, not to mention the hideous support bar screwed into the wall. Rod used to try to do his best to not wrinkle his nose whenever he slept over.

Stop comparing him to Rod, Bia!

It wasn’t fair, but still, from the pristine penthouse suite at The Residence Hotel to his own home, Zander was used to the finer things in life.

You’re worth it, girl. Where you’re from and where you live doesn’t define you.

After a good mental pep talk and self-assurance, I gathered the keys to Zander’s Bentley, went down to the resident parking lot, and climbed in behind the wheel.

Next stop, happiness.

It was the weekend, and traffic was a pain. It took an hour to get to Zander’s gated estate in Beverly Hills where I used his pin to let myself inside.An hour spent in his car, listening to his music. The old Bia was quaking.

After reluctantly turning off the engine and shutting off “No Boundaries,” I texted Zander that I’d arrived and he came out to greet me and help me with my bag. Ever the respectful gentleman.

“Hello,” he said to me as he crossed over from his front walk to the parking area.

Looking up from grabbing his LV bag, I froze.

I—

Zander was wearing my shirt, or, the one with the Yin and Yang patch embroidered on the chest I’d bought for him. He probably owned a million shirts, far better and pricier ones, but he was wearing the twenty-dollar shirt I’d bought him from Closet Babe. I was more than sure he’d gotten the shirt to make me feel better about his buying me clothes. Still, he was wearing it.

I was proud of him in that shirt. The sight of it put me even more at ease. I would stop running, I would stop downplaying what this could build up to, and I would enjoy it for every moment that it was.

Even more, as Zander came over to me, I forgot about the bag and went and wrapped my arms around him, going and giving him a kiss. It was meant to be a quick peck, but quick wasn’t our style. Zander’s arms locked me against him as his lips returned to mine, letting me know how much he’d missed my company since Monday.

He smelled like cigarettes and weed, but he didn’t taste like it. He’d brushed his teeth and rinsed with mouthwash before my arrival and I appreciated the gesture. I liked how together and orderly Zander seemed to be. How he even kept his nails trimmed and clean.

I just really liked Zander Khalil.

He carried the bag inside and accepted his keys as we stood in the foyer. The joy in his dark eyes as he glanced at me, taking me in, made me look away to hide my blush. Why were we so giddy?

Give us time, and we’d probably turn into one of those corny couples.

“I’ve got some takeout in the kitchen, you interested?” Zander asked after setting the bag on the bottom step.

“Yes, I’m starving.”

I followed him into the kitchen where I saw he had takeout from famous local fried chicken chain Freddy’s Fried Chicken. The smell of it made my mouth water. Freddy’s had the best chicken, better than any of the international chains out there, not to mention their sides were bomb too. You could taste the soul in every bite.

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