Page 12 of Caught off Guard

“Have dinner with me at my house.”

Oh, hell no.

Cairo’s words snapped me from my trance. Did this man give all that money to Liberation for a booty call? I should have known his philanthropy was too good to be true. I chuckled openly and settled back into my seat, quickly processing how I could maintain my dignity and retain Cairo’s seven million dollars for our students.

“We have dinners with donors all the time. We enjoy giving our students opportunities to thank our benefactors personally, especially since you live in town. I’ll invite three to five students who can tell you more about their majors and LU experiences. They would love to meet a bona fide celebrity. Whitney will coordinate with your people to schedule something at your convenience. It will be fun.” I offered a big grin and positioned my body to stand. “As a matter of fact, let me get her so we can take care of that right now.”

Cairo distorted his face and wrinkled his brow, quickly alerting me that he wasn’t pleased.

“No.”

I sat on the edge of my seat and brushed imaginary lint off my skirt to gather myself. I squared my shoulders.

“No?”

He examined his nail bed in a slow, methodical way. When he finished, he threw a steely look my way. I couldn’t understand how a stubborn man could still be so fine, even when he brooded.

“Madam President…Zora.” He dragged my title and name out as if he was reprimanding me, causing my lower body to tingle. “I am requestingyourpresence at my home.” He stretched his words and spoke them with great care, his eyes raking over my body again. “Only you.”

I clutched my pearl necklace and bit my bottom lip at the gentle, yet forceful request.

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re a brilliant woman. What don’t you understand about dining with me in my home? Privately?”

I dropped my hands to my lap and put on a guarded smile. What was Cairo asking me to do? Had I just made a deal with the devil? Did he make a habit of inviting single women to his home to seal the deal on business arrangements?

“I appreciate your invitation, but as a single woman, I don’t make it a habit to dine alone with men in their homes after hours. It compromises my position as president of this university. Surely you understand decorum as a public figure. Eyes are on me at all times.”

“I fully understand what it’s like to be in the public eye, Zora. I assure you I am a man who believes in upholding one’s reputation. And I pride myself on discretion. No one will see you enter or exit my home. I can guarantee that. If you’re worried about my donation, don’t be. I am a man of my word. As I said, this gift represents my commitment to my beloved Cece’s legacy. I will not dishonor her memory by breaking a promise to support students in need. Liberation’s donation is secured regardless of your decision.”

Cairo’s bluntness impressed me and threw me off. I loved how he loved Cecelia Kinney beyond death. Like Geoff, he didn’t mince words about what he wanted. Unlike Geoff, Cairo gave me the option to fellowship with him, not demand it. If I said no, I believed he wouldn’t withdraw his commitment to our students. Because of that, I made up my mind.

“Tell me when and where.”

He gave me the precious gift of his magnetic smile again. I smiled back.

“Excellent. As a bonus, I’d like to invite you to a Torch game. You can sit in a suite and bring a friend if you’d like.”

“That’s…generous.”

He stared at me. I sensed he had more to say, but I didn’t want to press him.

“I saw the crowd you were dealing with at the luncheon. I can only imagine how hard you work and how much of yourself you give to Liberation. As a token of my appreciation for your leadership, I also would like to set you up in one of my guest rooms and have someone serve you as you need to be served. Could you take off a weekend, maybe a Friday through Sunday when we have a home game? Call it a staycation.”

I stared at Cairo, wondering if he was playing mind games with me. Not even Geoff sowed into me the way he tried to.

“I’m not sure. My schedule is so busy.” I picked up the paper calendar lying on the table and flipped through it mindlessly before closing it.

Cairo’s proposition was ludicrous.

“I cannot accept gifts from donors. It’s a conflict of interest.”

I wasn’t lying. As the president of a public institution, I could not bestow favors on donors.

Without batting an eye, Cairo eyed my phone on the glass table between us.

“Is that your personal phone?”

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