Page 13 of Eat Slay Love

My heart warmed. “That’s love, Laila.Reallove. He gets it.”

“True.” Her tone grew thoughtful. “It’s funny because sometimes I feel guilty, like I should be the one staying up all night since I’m home during the day. But he always tells me, ‘Laila, your job is keeping this house running and making sure the kids are happy and healthy. That’s not just important—it’severything.’”

“Le sigh.” A soft ache bloomed in my chest. “This is why. . .not too much on Jerry. I told him he could call me anytime if you’re bothering him, and I’ll come down there and beat you up.”

“And he likes to threaten me with you too.”

“You better act right. That’s big bro.” And then I saw it.

Pulling up to the front of the hotel was my ride for the evening—a sleek, jet-black Rolls-Royce Phantom.

You are worthy. You are deserving.

It looked more like a work of art than a vehicle. The iconic Spirit of Ecstasy hood ornament was perched proudly at the front.

The chauffeur stepped out, unfolding his tall, lean frame from the front seat with the kind of effortless grace that could stop traffic. His crisp black suit hugged his broad shoulders and tapered perfectly down his athletic build, every inch of him dripped with sex.

His dark brown skin gleamed with a healthy sheen like he’d been kissed by the sun and polished by the gods.

A neatly groomed beard framed his strong jawline, perfectly accentuating high cheekbones and a mouth that looked like it could charm the soul out of anyone.

Mmmhmm.

And those eyes—deep, dark, brown, and endlessly captivating—held a glint of something playful beneath the professionalism.

He looked my way, and I almost melted right there.

“Girl.” Grinning, I lowered my voice. “My ride is here and the driver is finneeee.”

“Now that’s a good sign for the theme of the evening.” She snapped her fingers on the other end. “May every man you see look like he’s sculpted from God.”

“Amen.” I strolled over.

He gave me a panty-wetting smile, and his voice rolled out low and smooth, like honey warmed over a fire. “Good evening, Ms. Harris. I’m Dalvin. I’ll be your driver for this evening.”

The way he said it made the simple greeting sound almost sinful, like he could turn this holiday into something far more intriguing.

I nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

With a practiced efficiency, he moved to open the back door for me, bowing slightly as he gestured for me to enter.

I spoke into the phone, “Alright, missy. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, but you better send me a picture of this fine ass chauffer.”

I climbed into the back of the Phantom. “Girl, how am I supposed to do that?”

“A proper lady finds a way.”

“Girl, I am getting off this phone.”

He closed the door.

“Wait, Rae. Don’t forget to post that picture on LinkedIn like I said. You never know—some tech billionaire could see it and slide into your DMs, offering to fly you to his private island.”

“Oh my God.” I chuckled. “Bye, Laila.”

“Post the picture, Rae! I’m serious!” Laila’s laughter was the last thing I heard before the call ended.

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