Page 56 of Kentrell

Not a single word.

No calls. No texts. Not even a smoke signal.

I never responded to his email either. Mars said it would pay off in the long run, but I was unraveling each day that passed and he didn't follow up with another email. What did I expect? He already knew enough about me to get my lunch order right. He knew how to reach me when he wanted. All I had was a wing, a prayer, and Mars in my ear. And even with all her expertise, I was beginning to feel like I didn't have the prayer either. This man was walking me down the path that led to him and I was willing handing myself over to him.

"Dammit!"

I should've sent him a follow up email when I got home that night. Maybe then he would've responded and I could at least cut the suspense. No, Mars was right. No response is more professional. That way I'm not racking my brain to think of the right things to say. Because right now, I didn't know what to say.

Didn’t know what it would mean to open that door.

Didn’t trust myself once it cracked.

Because Kentrell Caldwell?

He wasn’t the type of man you played with.

And I’d already let him in too deep.

I tucked a curl behind my ear and kept sliding paperwork into the filing cabinet, acting like I had it together.

Then my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

My stomach flipped.

Nobody important ever called from an unknown. But something told me this one mattered.

The screen lit up again. Ringing.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Fourth ring, my thumb moved like it had a mind of its own.

“Hello?”

“You been ghostin’ me, Counselor.”

My breath caught.

His voice—low, gritty, laced in that South Side edge—dragged down my spine like rough velvet. I gripped the phone tighter.

“Who is this?”

“You know who the fuck it is. So you might as well gon' head and save my number.”

Damn.

“Mr. Caldwell.”

“Mm-hmm.” He let it linger. “You got my email.”

“I saw it.”

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