Twenty - Four - Serena

“Too bad we don’t always get what we want.”

 

 

 

Despite my promise to Kholton, I gave Paul an hour of my time after our breakfast meeting. I don’t see the harm.

We won them over at breakfast, and before it was over, the contract was signed. The least I could do is play nice a little longer.

A Lyft takes me to the address Kholton texted me.

I wasn’t expecting a modern three-level office building, bearing the marquee BCI Services in red and black letters. There also appears to be some renovations going on, seeing as the front door is held open by a cement block, while men in paint-splattered overalls mill in and out.

I quickly slip through the open door. Inside is a chaotic mess of dust, dug up tiles, and walls stripped of paint. I stop one of the workers hefting out a bathroom sink. “Hi. I’m here to meet someone. His name—”

“Don’t know nobody here, Misses. But check the third floor,” he clips while walking off, clearly not in the mood to be bothered. “First and second floors are under renovations.”

I take the debris littered elevator up to the third floor and it’s a whole other scene. The air-conditioner is blasting and it’s dust and debris free. Clean and modern.

A pretty Hispanic woman is at the reception desk.

“Hi,” I greet her with a smile. “I’m here to see Kholton Sharpe?”

She scans me up and down, unimpressed. “You’re Serena?”

“Correct.”

“He’s in Brody’s office.”

“Brody?”

Her tone is snappy when she replies, “Last one down.”

I have no idea what that means, but it’s obvious she’s not interested in helping me, so I guess I’ll have to find “last one down” myself.

There are two hallways and a large area of cubicles with workers hunkered down behind computers. I choose the hall that goes left since it has a golden “Management” on the wall.

Down this hall, there are three doors. One on the left, one on the right, and one at the end. The latter is left ajar so I beeline for that one.

I can hear his voice the closer I get. It’s the confident, orotund voice he uses during studies. He’s talking numbers.

I stop outside the door and peek inside. Seated in one of two chairs on the opposite side of the desk, he’s facing away from the door, his laptop open on the desk in front of him. Two girls who look to be in their early twenties are on the screen.

“Kathy, you’re doing terrific,” he says to the screen. “But Sheila you’re falling behind.”

Kathy beams and Sheila pouts. “I frickin’ hate numbers.”

“You keep saying that,” Kholton says. “You need to open your mouth and tell your mother you’re not interested in finance.”

“We have to do what she wants if we want to keep our privileges,” she whines. “You have no idea what it’s like!”

“Trust me, I do.” He sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “Unless you start showing signs of improvement, I won’t be able to get you a sit-in for finals at the University. There needs to be, at minimum, a ninety-percent guarantee that the student will pass in order to sit in.”

Both girls panic. “I’ll help her,” Kathy says quickly. “Can she re-do the test?”

“Certainly. I’ll give you a week to prepare.”

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Sharpe. Thank you so much.”

“Bye. See you when I get back.”

As I am about to enter, I hear disembodied rustling, and then, “Oh, my God, is it just me or was he even hotter today?”

“I think it’s the California tan.”

“Can you imagine what it’s like to have sex with him?! I bet his cock is, like, huge.”

“With that kind of shameless confidence? I mean, uh, yeah.”

“He probably thinks I’m a pretty dunce, doesn’t he?”

Instead of letting the girls in on the embarrassing fact that the connection is still running, Kholton leans forward and ends it. Such a ‘good guy’ move.

Pushing the door further open, I rap my knuckles against the wood to announce my entry. 

Kholton turns.

“Hey,” I say with a heady grin.

He studies me closely for several heartbeats. “Fuck you, Serena.”

I jerk back at the unexpected verbal attack. “Excuse me?”

In one fluid motion, he shoots up from the chair and backs me up against the wall. “Where did he touch you?”

For a moment, I’m confused. Until it dawns. Paul. “How did you—”

“I’m the player,” he says simply. “You let him touch you. Where?”

Wow. How could he just know that from looking at me? “We just held hands for a little bit.”

His hard eyes search mine. “He kissed you?”

“He—He tried to,” I admit. “But I sorta dodged it. It caught my cheek.”

“Where?”

I tap my right cheek and he grits his teeth.

Slowly, he leans in and bites my cheek. Just enough so it stings. To the other untainted cheek, he plants a long, lingering, caressing kiss.

“No need to lie next time,” he tells me. “If you know you’re gonna fuck around with another dude after my cock’s been inside you, just say so. I don’t need your false promises.”

“You’re being an asshole,” I snap.

“Not unprovoked.”

“And I didn’t ‘promise’ you anything. You demanded,” I point out. “I’m a grown, independent woman and I can do whomever and whatever the hell I please.”

“Good.” He steps back from me. “So can I.”

Striding back to the desk, he packs up his laptop and folders, then slings his messenger bag over his shoulder. He turns and gestures to the door for me to go ahead of him.

I do.

“Did Aaron agree to the meeting?” His voice is casual and easy, all the tight accusation gone.

Though wary, I relax. “Yeah. You can come by the house after our meeting with the Nelson’s.” 

“Cool.”

As we trek up the hall, I notice that the door on the right that had been closed before is now wide open, with deep barks of laughter echoing from inside.

Kholton stops to poke his head in. “I’m on the move.”

Tipping up on my toes, I try to peek inside, but he’s too tall, so I settle for peering under his arm instead. I spot Brock, leaning against a wall, arms crossed. He’s smirking at someone as he conspiratorially jerks his head to the door, unaware that I can see him.

“The redhead?” someone whispers, or at least tries to. No such thing as whispering with a voice that deep. “She’s out there?”

Kholton shakes his head and steps aside, muttering under his breath, “Idiots.”

Taking my hand, he pulls me past him and into the office. “This is Serena,” he introduces. “Serena, these are my brothers. You’ve already met Brock and Brian. This is Brody, and that one’s Brandt.”

“He-e-e-y,” I drawl, slack-jawed. Awed. Ovaries imploding.

Wow. Wow. Just…Wow. So much hotness in one room. How is this office not exploding right now? I mean, holy shit! I’ve seen Brian alone, and I’ve seen Brock alone, but seeing all three of these brothers together in one setting is an entirely different experience. I can’t even imagine if Brian was here.

Although Brock and Brian are twins, these four men are all individual fireballs on their own. All have dark hair, muscles and sharp jaw lines, but what’s more striking is their undetectable ethnicity. They’re a rather unique, distinct and intriguing lot.  

Brody and Brandt toss amused grins my way, but Brock is a rock.

“Forgive me if this is offensive,” I start, “but what’s your ethnicity? Are you black? Mexican? Native? What?”

Brandt laughs, teeth white and straight. He has the lightest complexion of the three, along with sea-green eyes. “Nah. We get that question a lot.”

“Mom, African-American and Puerto Rican,” Brody joins in. “Dad, Italian and Swedish.” 

“Wow,” I whisper.

“What about you, Serena?” Brandt asks, mischief in his eyes. “What’s your—”

Kholton tugs me out of the office and slams the door. Deep chuckles rumble behind the closed door.

“That was rude!” I say, punching him.

He scoffs. “Trust me, you want nothing to do with those assholes. Don’t take their smiles for kindness. They’re a wolf pack.”

“What’s BCI Services?” I ask. “I mean, what do they do here?”

“Private Investigation.” He lets go of my hand. “It’s growing faster than we anticipated, so we just bought the entire building.”

“We?”

“We’re brothers,” he reminds me. “We create, build, and grow together.”

So, he’s also a shareholder in a successful private investigation company. What does this man not do?”

“Go call the elevator,” he tells me when we get to the front area.

As I do so, he saunters over to the Hispanic’s reception desk, flashing a cocky playboy smile and a wink at her.

He’s never done that with me. I’ve seen him like that with others, but never with me. I get the lovable asshole.

Leaning over her desk, he tugs a lock of her hair. “You know what, I think I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ve got a late meeting, so it’ll have to be around ten.”

Little Miss Hermosa all but dissolves under his attention. I roll my eyes and stab the call button once more.

“Ten is perfect,” she says with shameless eagerness.

He brushes his knuckles caressingly under her chin before he backs up. “I’ll get your number from Brock.”

The elevator opens and I get on.

In no hurry, Kholton saunters in right before it closes.

The silence inside the steel box chokes us both.

I won’t comment on what he just did in front of me, because that’s what he wants. It stings, and it’s embarrassing, but if I react, he wins.

Do I believe he will hook up with that girl later? No. At this point, he’s as hooked on me as I am on him.

What he did was done simply because he didn’t get his way. That’s the adult-male version of a temper tantrum.

I exit the elevator ahead of him.

Exit the building ahead of him.

Outside, I stop and wait for him to pass me.

He crosses the parking lot to a silver sports car and opens the passenger door for me.

I start to enter, but then stop and tip up to kiss him. He kisses me back with natural ease, neither of us touching the other.

I break the kiss and duck into the car.

He slams the door.

Rounding the vehicle, he gets in and buckles his seatbelt.  Then he just stares straight ahead.

I smash the ice. “Where are we going?”

“I wanted to see you. I wanted to do shit with you,” he says. “But my mood’s messed up right now. I’ve got a million decisions to make and you…”

Me. Me. I messed up his mood. Well, hell. I knew better than to admit to anything, yet I did. I should have just told him his instincts were off and maintain that he’s crazy. “You want me to leave?”

It takes him a while to answer, but he does, staring intensely out the windshield. “Yes.”

I laugh. Because, screw his jealousy. I’m in this for a baby and I’m not leaving without it. See, things like this are why I don’t ask for exclusivity and why I’m dead set on a child without a relationship.

Though it may seem distasteful to others, I’m not above using my sexuality to seal deals. Do I regret what I did with Paul? No. A few misleading smiles, some hand-holding, and a dodged kiss got me a multi-million-dollar deal.

Granted, I’m the one to be blamed for not being aboveboard about my intentions with Kholton, but he hated me at first. No way would he have gone for it.

Now, as if falling for him isn’t trouble enough, this. His jealous possessiveness of me only makes my heart beat harder, my feelings deeper. But I can’t encourage it.

Sooner or later, I’ll take a pregnancy test, it will come up positive, and then I’ll leave him. What’s the point of falling? I’m using him just like I did Paul, leading him on with deceitful, underlying intentions. I’ve done it countless times.

Only this time, it’s different.

Not only does it include real, hot, passionate sex, but it’s not as detached as it should be. I haven’t faked a single thing with him. My lust is real, my smiles are real, my feelings are real, my happiness is real. He is real to me.

This is a tangled web I’m weaving. A disaster waiting to happen. If I care anything about him, I ought to quit while I’m ahead. I should get out of this car and let him be. He’s got so much crap on his saucer already. Where’s my conscience? My empathy?

I should back off. But, I can’t. I’m selfish. Thoughtless. Greedy.

Karma is going to get me hard for this. But I don’t care. I’m not done with Kholton Sharpe yet.

“Too bad we don’t always get what we want,” I say.

He glances over at me. “Sorry?”

“I’m not leaving,” I tell him. “And you don’t want me to leave, either. You think you do, but you don’t.”

He watches me for a minute too long. “What do you want from me, Serena?”

Too much. “I don’t want anything from you. I just want you.”

“Fuck that,” he fires. “I don’t believe you.”

I reach across and rest my hand on top of his.

He flips his hand palm-up and laces our fingers together. It’s reflexive, natural, as if he can’t help himself, even if he knows deep in his gut that he’s not supposed to trust me.

“At least give me the benefit of the doubt,” I cajole. “Let me prove it.”

Closing his eyes, he lets his head fall back on the headrest. Conflicted.

His instincts are on point. But I’m the wretched Lilith.

I say, “I know exactly what you need right now.”

With his eyes still closed, he shifts our entwined hands to his crotch in suggestion.

I laugh. “Not that, you insatiable horn-bag. Get out of the car. I’m driving.”

One eye pops open. “Thought you didn’t know how to drive.”

“I took lessons and got my license,” I update him. “After that night…you won’t ever find me in another situation where I can’t drive to save myself.”

“That’s good.” Both his eyes are open now. “I’m glad you did that.”

He untangles our fingers and exits the car.

I climb over the console into the driver’s seat while he goes around to the passenger side.

“Take your time,” he cautions me when I start the engine and it revs and rumbles like a lion. “This isn’t like the cars you learned to drive in. It’s powerful.”

I ignore his warning and hit the gas. The car shoots off and I squeal. Frightened, I hit the brakes so fast we both lurch forward.

Kholton stares me down. “What did I say? Take it easy. Get used to it first.”

“Okay, okay,” I say meekly.

I move off again, and he reaches over to rest a hand on my thigh. He doesn’t speak, but whenever I start to lose control, he squeezes my thigh and I pullback.

I manage to get us to our destination without killing anyone.

“This is what you think I need?” His laugh is hearty when he climbs out of the car. “A theme park?”

“Yep.”

Kholton is a kid at heart. I don’t know if it’s because he wasn’t allowed to be a kid growing up, but he gets excited over things men his age shouldn’t be excited about. All his favorite television programs air on either Disney XD, Nickelodeon, or Cartoon Network. He binge-reads comics during my tests and looks forward to costume parties.

This is definitely what he needs to clear his mind right now. “I was going to take you to Disneyland, but the drive is too long and the lines there will be even longer.”

He hooks a finger into the waistband of my shorts and tugs me to him.

I lock my arms around his neck.

He palms my ass.

I breathe him in.

He breathes me in.

“So,” I whisper against his lips. “What ride do you want to get on first?”