Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Hen,” he says, my name on his lips smooth as a pearl, but at odds with the barely checked emotion in his eyes. “Hi.”
“Mav, hey,” I reply as casually as I can manage, offering him a polite smile. “Nice to see you again.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Zere says, turning to Charles. “Mav’s helping out with Hendrix’s foundation. Isn’t that cool?”
“It’s actually a venture capital fund,” Maverick corrects, sliding his hands into the pockets of his navy-blue suit pants. Gucci, if I’m not mistaken. He wears it with an impeccably tailored jacket to match and an open-collar gray silk shirt. “It’s called Aspire.”
“Never heard of it,” Charles says. “What’s your focus?”
“We focus exclusively on Black women founders,” I tell him and leave it at that.
“They’re doing amazing work,” Maverick picks up where I deliberately left off, narrowing his eyes on Charles. “I’m investing, so you’ll definitely be hearing more from them. One company in particular has limitless potential. Ever heard of Hue?”
“Hue?” Zere turns a stunned look my way. “I love that line! I’ve never had a color match so perfect.”
“They’re doing some revolutionary stuff,” I say.
Maverick’s eyes are warm on my face, and I can’t make myself look away as the air between us heat-hazes. When I break our stare, I shoot a quick glance at Zere to see if she’s noticed. Fortunately, she’s distracted by someone waving at her from across the room.
“Excuse me, guys,” she says, rising. “My party planner apparently needs me. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as she steps away, two people approach Maverick. Just like at the All-White Party, a small amoeba of people take shape in his vicinity, eager to pitch him or take advantage of this rare proximity to the kind of power he yields.
This is my chance to break away. I’d thought I might last until they cut the cake, but I really don’t want to pretend right under Zere’s nose any longer than I have to. I feel like a fraud making polite conversation as if I don’t know how Maverick’s chiseled features slacken and tighten in passion; don’t know the raspy timbre his voice falls to when he’s turned on. While Zere’s away and Maverick is roped into another conversation, I stand and grab my clutch.
“Leaving?” Charles asks.
“I am. Nice to meet you.”
“I’ll see you around,” he says. “You can bet on that.”
“Okay, well let Zere know I had to leave, but wish her the best. I left my gift on the table.”
I take swift strides across the ballroom, escaping before Maverick can extricate himself from the conversation. I’m going back to my hotel and ordering a bottle of something sent up to my room. Something to dull this throbbing between my legs and this ache in my chest. I scan the crowd for Chapel, but no sign. I don’t see the two people she was leering at earlier either. There could be a threesome already in progress somewhere.
Hovering at the entrance, I want to leave, but also need to make sure Chapel is okay before I go. I’d love to lock myself in a stall for a few minutes and sort my thoughts, but there’s a long line for the restroom. My gaze falls on the door of the coatroom, which is, by some miracle, slightly ajar. Before anyone comes, I dash in and close the door behind me. The noise of the music and of my own thoughts dies down as soon as the door shuts. I draw in one deep, cleansing breath after another, hoping to slow my heart’s thunderous pace.
Zere didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, but I felt obvious. Caught, like if you blew forensic dust over my body, Maverick’s handprints would show up clearly on my ass, my back, my thighs. Like just looking at me, everyone would know.
A few lamps illuminate the space with soft light. It’s not a true coatroom. More like a makeshift dressing room with a dark-paneled privacy divider, maybe for changing behind. A small table against the wall holds an ashtray, which indoors feels like an artifact these days, and a whiskey tumbler. There are a few rolling clothes racks lined up with wraps, scarves, and other random items. I set my clutch on the table and take out my phone to try Chapel. The buzz of a text notification startles me so badly I drop my phone. I bend to retrieve it and pause, resting on my haunches as I read the screen.
Chapel: Girl, not one, but TWO! You said let you know if I pulled. Got ’em!
Me: Good for you. Be safe.
Chapel: You still flying out tomorrow?
Me: Yup.
Chapel: You leaving the party soon?
Me: Yup.
Chapel: Alone? Or did you pull?
Me: Alone.
The word “alone” may as well be in all caps, highlighted, underlined it stands out so starkly.
My heart literally burns, and it has nothing to do with the short ribs I grabbed from the hotel’s buffet earlier. I have never had with anyone else what I have with Maverick. Not just the sexual attraction… which is not insignificant, but the camaraderie, the aligned values and work ethic. Shared convictions.