Page 55 of Heavy Is The Crown

“So, you proving a point,” he murmured, his voice dropping just slightly. “But what about earlier? When I brushed that curl from your face? That part of the performance too?”

Krys’ stomach dipped.

She gripped the wheel. “Goodnight, Kenyatta.”

Kenyatta smiled, soft and genuine. Then, without warning, he reached over, slow and deliberate, and adjusted the strap of her top, letting his fingers graze her bare shoulder.

A chill ran through her.

He leaned in, voice low. “See you Monday, Bae.”

Then he was gone.

Krys sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty seat beside her.

This was getting out of hand. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

Not one bit.

Chapter 13

Kenyatta pulled into the lot of Davis Freight & Properties, the headquarters where Krys ran both her realty empire and her father’s trucking company. The building itself was nothing flashy, a modern, two-story structure with large, tinted windows and a sleek navy-and-gray exterior. But inside was where the real power moved.

He stepped out of his beat-up Impala, his gaze shifting to the rows of company-branded semis parked in the back lot. Business was booming, that much was obvious.

He adjusted the collar of his freshly pressed polo, a new one he picked up just for this job, then stepped inside.

The air conditioning hit him first, followed by the scent of coffee, printer ink, and fresh linen, that expensive kind of clean.

Everything inside was high-end yet functional; polished floors, frosted glass offices, and walls lined with digital tracking screens showing the movement of shipments across multiple states. The lobby was minimalistic but sleek, decorated in deep blue and gold, reflecting Davis Freight’s legacy.

At the center of it all was Krys’ office, a glass-walled executive suite with a panoramic view of the entire operations floor.

She was already there, seated behind a curved black marble desk, her gold MacBook open next to a white iMac, effortlessly managing both while scrolling through numbers and schedules. Her handwritten notes were precise, her pen moving with practiced ease. Behind her, a wall of glass shelves displayed trucking industry awards, framed property deeds, and a single sleek photo of her and her father standing in front of their first warehouse.

This was her domain. Her empire. And the way she owned the space was like she was built for this.

She barely looked up before saying, “You’re early.”

He grinned, slipping his hands in his pockets. “You sound surprised.”

Krys finally glanced up, giving him a quick once-over. “Just making sure you take this seriously.”

He leaned against the doorway. “What? You thought I was gonna show up late on my first day?”

She arched a brow. “Wouldn’t be the first time a man wasted my time.”

Kenyatta chuckled. “Damn. So, you got a history of picking bad hires and bad men?”

Krys smirked but didn’t dignify that with a response.

Kenyatta looked around. “Where’s ol’ boy at?”

Her face wrinkled, confused. “Who?”

“That big cujo nigga.”

“He wouldn’t appreciate being called ‘ol boy’ nor ‘cujo nigga’, and he’s with his sitter today.”

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