Page 108 of Kentrell

I used to care so much about doing things right. Looking right. Being right.

Now? I wanted what I wanted.

Letting Kentrell go as a client? Not happening. The idea of someone else stepping in, managing him, sitting across from him, getting that smile I swore was just for me?

No. Absolutely not.

He was mine.

In every way that counted. My client. My lover. My... friend.

I blinked at that last one as I sipped slowly.

Friend.

I’d never thought of anyone outside of my girls that way. Not really. But with Kentrell... it was different. He listened. He saw me. Even when I tried to hide.

That realization hit harder than I expected.

I think I was falling for him.

I took another slow sip of water, but it did nothing to cool the heat rolling through my chest.

My mind drifted—back to earlier, yesterday afternoon.

Back to him.

We were out shopping for Velvet and Velour’s birthday gifts. Kentrell had asked me to come along, claiming he didn’t trust his own taste when it came to “picky-ass women with expensive taste.” But the moment we stepped into the Gold Coast boutiques, he let me take the lead without hesitation.

“Whatever you think they’ll like,” he said, standing behind me with his hands in his pockets, a quiet confidence in his stance.

I’d browsed a few designer spots before settling on two sleek purses in bold, punchy colors—one a deep cerulean blue, the other a soft lilac, both structured and timeless. Then, at a Swedish jeweler tucked on Oak Street, I picked out a minimalist luxury watch for each twin. White gold for one, rose gold for the other, their faces adorned with delicate diamonds and slim leather bands.

“Classy,” Kentrell murmured behind me. “Like you.”

I smiled at the compliment, but he was already looking toward something else.

“What about this one?” he asked, motioning to a case I hadn’t even noticed.

It was a custom gold timepiece with a deep emerald face—bold but elegant, rich without being flashy.

My eyes widened. “I love emerald.”

“I know,” he said softly, already signaling the clerk. “You wear with everything.”

I looked up at him, startled—but not really. Somehow, he always knew.

What I wanted. What I needed. What I loved.

And that scared me a little. Because it meant he was paying attention. Because it meant this was more than just a fling or a night of heat that left me sore and satisfied.

It meant... he saw me. Not just my body, not just the surface. Me.

As the jeweler wrapped the watch and handed it to him, he didn’t say another word. Just handed me the box when we got outside.

“This one ain’t for nobody else but you.”

I blinked hard then, the same way I was blinking now.

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