Page 33 of Kentrell

I looked up slowly, catching that flicker in his eyes—a flash of uncertainty, like he already suspected the answer but didn’t want to hear it.

“Of course you don’t know her,” he said, waving it off with a forced laugh. “Just a name on a sheet.”

But he was wrong.

I did know her.

The second he said it, my memory hit rewind—spinning all the way back to when I was a kid. That face, softer then, with a different name, stood right alongside my mama’s.

And just like that, this whole job got more complicated.

“I can’t assume all of the South Side know each other,” Malcolm added, shifting on his feet. That twitch in his stance told me everything—the man was nervous, real nervous. Theway he said it, like he was trying to downplay something deeper, only made me more sure. Zora and Zoe—mother and daughter. Two pieces in a game I didn’t even know I was playing until now.

And suddenly, this wasn’t just a contract.

It was layered. Heavy. Full of shit I wasn’t meant to uncover.

A slow itch crept up my spine. Curiosity. A hunger to know more. Not about the job—but about her. About what the hell I’d just stepped into.

“Cool.” I shut the folder without giving anything away, sliding it under my arm like I wasn’t turning this whole thing over in my mind. Reached down, scooped up the K-Reese bags, then grabbed the food and drinks off his desk like I’d just wrapped up a regular business meeting.

Malcolm stared, confused, caught off guard by how fast I dismissed him.

“I’ll hit you up later,” I tossed over my shoulder, already heading for the door before he could find the words to stop me.

His mouth was still open when it closed behind me.

As I made my way down the hall, Zoe’s office came into view. She was sitting now, headset still clipped in, her voice smooth but serious, eyes aimed out the window like she was picturing something far off. I eased the door open, slow and quiet.

She didn’t notice me at first.

And for a second, I just watched her—trying to figure out how I was supposed to end this girl, when all I really wanted to do was get closer.

"Yes, Mr. Kensington, I will be attending the Winter Wonderland Ball this year," she said with a soft laugh, her head tilting just slightly in that way that made her sound both charming and in control. "But I’m afraid I must once again decline your invitation—you know as well as I do that attending the ball with you contradicts the principles I uphold at Anderson & Hartman."

She twirled lightly in her chair, playfulness still in her voice—until her eyes landed on me.

Her breath hitched, her smile faltering just enough to betray the surprise. “Oh, no—I’m perfectly fine,” she said quickly, still speaking into her headset, but her eyes didn’t leave mine. “Mr. Kensington, while my decision remains unchanged, I really do need to take my lunch. Okay, talk to you later.”

She tapped her headset off and set it aside with practiced grace, but her voice held a note of disbelief. “Mr. Caldwell, what are you doing in here?”

I didn’t answer right away. Just took her in.

Her dress was shorter than she realized. Every time she shifted, it rode a little higher, revealing the soft curve of her thighs—and my eyes followed. Slow. Intentional.

She caught my gaze and glanced down, panic flickering in her expression as she scrunched the fabric in her fist, trying to tug it lower, as if that’d undo what I’d already seen.

Didn’t matter. Damage was done. And it looked damn good.

“You still look good, ma.” My voice was low but honest, echoing the same words I told her last night when that little black dress had my attention.

Sure enough, her blush bloomed just like it had then—quick and pink, running high across her cheeks as she looked away, flustered but still holding that backbone I liked so much.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” she snapped, eyes flaring with heat before darting away. The line sounded rehearsed—probably fed to her by one of her little homegirls. Cute. Real cute. She put effort into this moment, into seeing me again. I could feel it. And that gave me all the confirmation I needed.

Let her play them professional games with everybody else. I already knew she’d struggle to keep the lines clean between business and me. Betweenus. She was gonna try. But sooner or later, the act would drop. And once we cleared out all the noisebetween us, it was only a matter of time—we were gon’ fuck. That much was certain.

“Nah,” I said coolly, “I never doubted you for a second.”

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