Page 10 of Save Room for Us

As I made my way over to the women, I felt eyes on me, and though I didn’t want to look, I couldn’t help myself. Asif and I caught one another’s eyes, giving closed mouth smiles at Milan being all over him. I shook my head with my brows raised, and he shrugged slightly.

How did we already have an inside joke?

FEW DAYS LATER…

“So, this the office, huh?”I perused the big ass space surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows.

“For the CEO, yes.” My father stood there, hands in his slack pockets, watching me with a smirk. “I’m proud of you, nigga.”

“Are you? Or you just happy you can lay up under Ma even more?” I asked, causing him to laugh while stroking his beard.

“Both. I’m happy I ain’t gotta check in around this muthafucka no more, but also, I’m glad you became the man you are right now. You just might be a better man than me, but that’s what the fuck I been gunning for since I got that DNA test back.”

We guffawed in unison.

“Damn.”

“Had to make sure you was mine ’fore a nigga got too excited.” He shrugged with a smirk.

“Shit, after what Cemone went through, you may need to check again.” I sat behind my desk, taking the shit in.

That situation was crazy as fuck to me, and even after it all, Cemone couldn’t stay true to his word and remove himself from Callen and Blakely’s lives. And though everyone had expressed he leave that shit be, Cemone, per usual, didn’t give a fuck what the next muthafucka thought if they weren’t named Yolani Compton.

However, once the real fathers were found out, shit became complicated because them niggas weren’t too fond of Cemone being any type of father figure. And due to legal shit, he really didn’t have no right to. Now, he saw them still, but it was only when with their grandparents, which wasn’t often.

Laughing, my dad replied, “Real shit, but nah. I got something more credible than a test. I can see myself in you, not just ya looks but how you move.”

“New and improved,” I joked.

“Yeah, aight.” He sat up straight. “So this is gon’ help you maneuver, son. With as much money as you making, the first thing muthafuckas gon’ do is a simple Google search, and if shit don’t come up or some shit does come up that don’t match, it’s gon’ be some bad shit on the horizon.”

“I know.” I nodded. Nigga had told me this about one hundred times at this point.

The plan was for me to come on as CEO in a few more years but because I’d made more money than he had expected me to, shit had to be done earlier to protect my freedom.

He eyed the office from his seat. “So when niggas see you the CEO of this bank and a part of the family that founded it, they won’t even look any fucking further. Not unless you moving sloppy, but that ain’t you.”

A knock sounded off on the door, so I yelled for them to come in. In walked a woman wearing a tight ass dress and shoes I usually saw on females in the fucking club.

“Hi, I’m Diamond, the new secretary.” She simpered softly at me, clutching some files.

“Nice to meet you, Diamond. Have a good day.” I nodded to her, and she stared for a minute before making an about face and switching out.

When my father and I made eye contact, we chuckled a little bit.

“Keep shit professional, young nigga.” He stroked his beard.

“You ain’t gotta worry about that shit with me. I don’t shit where I eat.”

I was speaking facts too. I would never fuck with a bitch that had access to my business in any way, shape, or form. Any female I gave dick to was on the outside and not even able to look in. I knew how women could get, and I’d be damned if I had to body Diamond’s pretty ass because she thought she could fuck with me on some woman scorned shit.

“Yeah, you definitely didn’t inherit that from me or my pops.” My father laughed.

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that shit, but one could assume he’d fucked on a woman in the past that he had no business smashing.

We chopped it up for about an hour longer, before my dad left me to myself just to take shit in and look over some of the books, company policies, and shit like that. I wasn’t just coming into this position at St. Thomas Financial simply to have a front. I wanted to actually improve on shit, make the company better while I got wealthier and stayed under the fucking radar. Rich as fuck and discreet was my motto.

As I looked over some documents, my paging device buzzed against me. It was some old shit that I was able to activate andgive to my team of niggas, Money Fiends, and I was only to be contacted via this fucking pager. If a nigga made that fatal choice to call me up, that was on him. I always made shit clear, and I wasn’t fond of muthafuckas who were hard of hearing or hard of understanding.

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