Page 27 of Mahogany 2
There was an awkward silence that filled the room after I called her baby. We stared at each other briefly before she looked away and went back to scrambling around the conference table. I joined her. Asked how her last meeting went. Didn’t care too much about that. Only asked to calm her down. She was antsy, like she might’ve had too much caffeine. Or like she had anxiety. Whichever it was, I didn’t like it. So, I did what I do—created small talk.
“You secured another contract?”
She sucked her teeth. “Not yet. They said they would get back to me. I’m not looking forward to a call. There was something about him. I don’t know.”
“Fuck ‘em,” I said with a shrug. “It’ll be his loss—not yours. But if it’s okay for me to say…alwaysexpect a call. You do phenomenal work.”
We locked eyes again. And as always, she looked away first.
“Thank you,” Mahogany softly said. “Did you… Were you able to take a look at the concepts I sent over? They’re rough drafts but they’re good. Just something I came up with on the fly. We don’t have to go with it?—”
I grabbed her hands. Cut her off midsentence. She looked up at me like I was crazy. I looked down at her like I cared. She needed a drink. But I wanted her to get to a point with me where she didn’t need anything to calm her nerves. Why she was so nervous, I hadn’t a clue. All I’d been since we met was myself. No pressure. Just… me. She said she was a little intimidated but damn.
“Take a deep breath for me,” I told her, slightly gripping her soft hands.
I was tempted to intertwine my fingers with hers, that was just how good her hands felt in mine. But I chilled. Kept it cordial. Grabbing her hands was already crossing the line enough.
She sucked her teeth. “Mr. Car?—”
“Crescent,” I corrected. “Just take a deep breath. Nervous ass.”
She laughed, looked down, and then back up at me. “Nervous? I’m not nervous. I’m running behind and?—”
“And I told you it was cool. Be cool. And… take… a… deep… breath for me.”
She sighed, shifted her weight around and tilted her head to the side. So much attitude. But she gave me what I asked for. A deep breath.
“You don’t have to rush. I have time. And if I didn’t, I’d make time,” I reassured her. “Give me another one.”
Again, she took a deep breath. This time, with her eyes closed. The tension in her hands softened and I made a bold move by running my thumbs over the backs of them. Again, tension lessened and before I knew it, her hands were limp and comfortable in mine. Her pulse didn’t race, and she was on her fourth deep breath without direction.
“No pressure. We gone chill and go over the design concept together,” I told her as she opened her eyes.
She nodded. “So, youdidn’tgo over them?”
With raised brows, I shook my head. “Hell naw. Didn’t see the email until this morning.”
Mahogany slipped her hands out of mine and went back to gathering the portfolios she was handling. “Okay. We can do that. However, reviewing what I send before meetings help. I don’t think I need to tell you that though.”
She cut her eyes at me, and I laughed, running a hand over the top of my head. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” She asked before scrunching her lips up and laughing. “You act like an amateur, Mr. Crescent Carter.”
I shrugged, pretending I was really just that sloppy at business. Like I said… I knew what I was doing. “Damn, maybe I am a lil bit. I don’t usually work one on one with contractors. Not like this. Shit, put me on, Ms. Mills. Help me out.”
I feigned ignorance. Pretended on purpose but I didn’t think I needed to pretend for real. She knew what it was. A nigga in my position couldn’t be this sloppy. Wouldn’t have gotten so far in business if I was.
She squinted, took a deep breath and shook her head. “Haven’t been Ms. Mills in years,” she mumbled.
“My bad,” I nonchalantly said, faking sincerity. “How many years?”
She looked over at me from the table and said, “Twelve.”
“And you’re how old? No disrespect. Twelve is crazy,” I sized her up. “You don’t look a day over thirty.”
Mahogany shrugged. “I got married at twenty-two. Just turned thirty-four.”
I drew back with raised brows. “Married at twenty-two? Straight? When you meet ‘em?”
