Page 43 of Kentrell

Zoe,

Files are attached. The shit you said you needed.

You held it together earlier—I’ll give you that. But next time, I ain’t going easy on you. Might as well let this shit take effect. The more you play, the sweeter it’ll be when you lose.

If I can figure out your lil Thursday Cafe Vervé order and pull your email without asking, imagine what else I can learn. How many ways I can get inside your head until you begging me to strip you down, bend you over, and fuck you from the back right on that desk you so proud of.

Don’t trip.

I’ll play your game inside Hartman Towers. You wanna talk properties and push paperwork, cool. But the secondyou step outside? I’m all over that ass, ma. You need that. And now I know how bad, too.

Yeah. I’m onto you.

—K.

Mars burst out laughing, slapping her hand on the desk. “Oh, he’s dangerous. Real dangerous. This man said you gon' be begging him to strip you down, bend you over, and fuck you on this desk right here! That’s poetry, bitch.” She struck my desk for emphasis, the sharp sound making me flinch.

My stomach twisted. Not with fear—but something that rode close beside it. Something dark and warm and curling low in my belly.

I scrolled down, just to make sure the tenant files were really there—and they were. Everything in order. Clean. Straightforward. Professionally structured.

But that email? That was not professional.

“How the hell did he get my email?” I asked out loud, mostly to myself.

Mars leaned in, her wine glass swinging as she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You already know how. Man probably got your favorite perfume, your blood type, and the size you wore to prom.”

I frowned, rereading his words. He didn’t say he hacked anything. But he didn’t deny it either.

“He’s watching me,” I murmured.

“Mmm, he’s studying you,” Mars corrected, with a crooked smile. “And you love it.”

“I do not.”

“You do,” she said, grinning. “Because if I was you, I’d already be texting him my address and telling him which side of the bed is mine.”

I glared at her, then back at the screen. My heart drummed against my ribs.

The kiss hadn’t been a fluke. He knew exactly what he was doing. And now, so did I.

My fingers hovered above the keyboard, frozen.

There was something terrifyingly sexy about a man who could watch you and still respect you. Who knew how to get to you without ever raising his voice. Who didn’t ask for permission, but never took more than you gave.

Kentrell Caldwell didn’t just see me. Hestudiedme. Like he’d been waiting to speak my language in the most precise dialect of desire.

And now, I couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’tunfeelit.

I didn’t give him my email.

Or my Cafe Verve order.

Or any of the subtle habits I thought were mine alone. But he had them anyway.

He had me.

The knock of my heart against my ribs grew louder.

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