Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(57)

“Well you might be right.” I shoo them away with one hand. “We’ll talk about it later. If I tell you now, you’ll have a million questions I don’t have time for. I need to focus.”

“Good luck,” Yari says. “We have guests coming.”

“I heard.” My eyes snap to her face. “I can’t afford disruptions today.”

“I heard Paul talking about it.” Billie shrugs. "They think it’ll be good exposure for the brand.”

Most large fashion houses are barely profitable, if at all, because the sheer cost of production at this level is exorbitant.

“As long as the exposure doesn’t come this way,” I say. “And I can’t imagine why it should.”

“You leaving on time tonight?” Yari asks, already turned to walk away, and studying me over her shoulder. “You on the J with me at five?”

The vibrant spray of color in the vase coaxes a small smile from me, and I shake my head. “Nah. I got plans.”

As soon as they’ve both gone back to their desks, I grab the phone from my purse and text Kenan.

Me: Yes. Six o’clock.

Kenan: See you then.

Me: Am I allowed to text my thanks?

Kenan: No. Thank me later. ;-)

At the start of the day, it seemed to be flying by and too short to get everything done. With six o’clock and Kenan as my finish line, the day is officially taking for freaking ever to end. It’s only three o’clock when I check the time on my laptop and stand to stretch. I grab one of the flowers and press it to my nose, drawing in the sweet scent.

“Some of our team works over here,” I hear JP saying. “But all the sewing happens downstairs, and we keep the clothes for you to view down there, too. Follow me.”

That must be the reality TV cast. Thank God they didn’t make it to my area.

“Oh, here you are.”

I look up, stunned to find Bridget Ross standing at my cubicle.

“Can I help you?” It’s a question embedded with what the hell?

“I wondered if your office was up here,” Bridget says casually, strolling closer. She stares at the flowers on my desk before turning frosty blue eyes on me.

“Are you here with the crew?” I ask. “It’s Baller Bae looking at the collection?”

“Yes. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” She pauses significantly, running her eyes over my skinny jeans, ribbed tank top, and sheer cardigan. “I don’t get it.”

My patience is fraying.

Lord, grant me the serenity not to kick her ass.

With God on my side, maybe Bridget will make it out of here in one skinny blond piece.

“What can I do for you, Bridget?” I ask. “It was Bridget, right? We met the other night at the restaurant I believe.”

“You know damn well who I am,” she drawls with deceptive indifference. “Or at least you should since you’re fucking my husband.”

Lawd, don’t fail me now.

“I think you should probably go before you make yourself look even more desperate,” I tell her, I hope with some kindness and not the middle finger I want to shove up her nose.

“Sure you don’t want me to stick around?” She sits on the edge of the desk and caresses one lotus petal. “I could give you some pointers on how Kenan likes his dick sucked. We were together over a decade. Maybe save you a lot of time.”

I step close until I’m standing right in front of her. I carefully slide my flowers away from her touch.

“Why would I want advice from the woman who lost him?” I ask, my voice hushed. I don’t need a scene. I’m sure her cameras are within striking distance. I’m giving her as little ammunition as possible.

“You won’t be able to keep him,” she sneers.

“Well at least we’ll have something in common and maybe enjoy each other better next time, but for now, I repeat. Leave.”

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” she says, chin up, hair flung back.

“Oh, no, you don’t know who you’re dealing with,” I say, my tone soft with danger she doesn’t, couldn’t understand. “You should pray to God my kindness and patience don’t run out, or you will know.”

“Just remember I offered to help you get it right,” she says spitefully, standing to her feet.

“You can best believe when I am fucking your ex-husband,” I tell her, “you’ll be the last thing on our minds. Now get the hell out of my face, out of my office and stay out of my way.”

“I won’t let you ruin things for us,” she says, her voice vehement.

“You already ruined it,” I say pityingly.

And I do pity her. I’d hate myself if I lost a man like Kenan, lost a life with him. Desperation clings to her, and I wonder if she cheated on him and then woke as if from a dream to realize what she had done? What she had lost and squandered?

She stares at me and then at the flowers one more time. Something gives in her eyes, and the fa?ade slips. She blinks overly bright blue eyes, turns, and leaves.





20





Kenan





I’m leaning against “the tank,” as Lotus calls my truck, when she comes out of the building. All the skinny individual braids are gathered and braided into two thick ones. She looks like a little girl, except for that ass and those breasts and her lips and every other part of her.