Page 32 of The Sweetest Devotion

Her hair was dyed cherry-red, even in the dim room you couldn’t miss it. That or her hourglass figure. Perky breasts, a tiny waist, a light reflecting off her belly button ring, and what looked like a nice ass behind her. She hadn’t yet shed her neon pink lace bra, matching panties, or garter belt. There was plenty still left to the imagination, and it was already raining dollar bills her way for how sexy she was.

She approached the pole stealthily and confidently, circling it as her eyes searched the crowd vacantly. Ciara began singing and Sabrina began moving her body sensually.

My eyes didn’t linger long on her figure before I really took in her angelic face. There was something about it, something youthful—tooyouthful that begged the question just how old she was. Sabrina didn’t look a day past sixteen, and for that, I turned around on my stool and faced the bar again and propped my arms against the counter.

“What now?” Savon wondered. “Y’all gon’ see each other in the future?”

“She would have to call for that,” I commented. It had been two days and I hadn’t heard a peep. “Until then, not much to be said.”

Savon considered this. “Would you turn her down if she did call?”

Common sense told me I should’ve. I wasn’t the type of guy to mess with women in relationships, whether shitty or not. Kennedy’s case was rare and special.

There was something bratty about her, entitled even. As if she was used to getting everything handed to her. Leila was a regular girl from around the way, and if I wasn’t good enough forher, of course I’d never meet Kennedy’s standards and expectations.

She wouldn’t call.

“We’ll cross that bridge if it happens,” I said, noncommittal.

Savon accepted this. “So, what if word gets out? What if homie try to press you?”

I wasn’t fazed. “Ain’t nothin’ but a conversation, man to man.”

Her fiancé didn’t scare me, whether I knew what was up with him or not. His corny power play in getting her to marry him for business said enough about him.

Still, I didn’t need that kind of trouble in my life. I had people counting on me.

It didn’t really matter. Because I was certain. This was just a one-off. A moment of carnal need and weakness. Kennedy would not call.

7

I didn’t leavethe hotel. I fell into a state of numbness that lasted for days. I didn’t eat, barely drank, and did nothing as I stayed in my king-sized bed.

The phone rang entirely the first day, until it died from lack of charging.

After that disastrous lunch with Cain, I had nothing to look forward to. No reason to try. The days filtered in and out as I suffered in my lonesome. There was no escaping this dreadful union. No way out of this messIhadn’t made.

Well, it wasn’t entirely true. I could walk away from everything: my penthouse, my inheritance, and my family. I wouldn’t lie and say leaving my belongings and money behind would be an easy feat, but it was my parents that left me gutted at the thought of leaving them for good. At walking away and never speaking to them. Especially with my father’s illness.

I was in an awkward situation and it left me sick to my stomach.

Heavy knocks sounded at my front door. Easily heard due to the static silence in my penthouse.

I guessed it was housekeeping. I’d shooed them away Tuesday morning when they attempted to come and clean. I’d wanted to be alone.

Now, perhaps they were doing a wellness check.

My phone was dead, but the calendar on the wall said it was Friday. The frosted glass clock nearby said it was just past twelve.

Huh.

The knocking was still going.

I climbed out of bed and padded out of my bedroom to get the front door in my ivory silk pajamas. My hair was still wrapped up under my scarf. Usually, when I was on my game, I didn’t allow anyone to see me like this, but I was beyond caring about my appearance at this point.

I reached the front door and didn’t bother checking the peephole as I unlocked it. I stood back and pulled the door open, prepared to tell housekeeping to fuck off.

Only, it wasn’t housekeeping knocking.

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