Page 11 of The Millionaire Mortician
Later that evening,I slipped on a sexy, fitted black dress that hugged my body properly. I wasn’t the curviest woman. Hell, I barely had ass or breasts. I was shaped like a square and built like a damn teenager, but when I put that shit on, I looked good. It was one reason I loved going out. It was my turn to play dress-up and look good for my man.
Once I picked the restaurant and made the reservations, I sent all the information to Milan. He decided to meet me there straight from work, which I didn’t mind, so that we could make it on time. Milan had an entire closet of suits and a bathroom in his massive office for reasons just like this.
As I stepped out into the fall weather, the valet handed me my ticket, and I made my way inside of Gabriel Kreuther, a high-end restaurant in the city. The hostess showed me to my table right away, and to my surprise, Milan was already there waiting.
He stood to his feet as we approached. “You look good as fuck,” he growled in my ear.
His voice sent chills down my spine.
“Thank you. You look fine yourself.”
We pecked each other’s lips, then he helped me be seated like a true gentleman.
The restaurant was low-lit. Candles flickered off the wine glasses, and soft jazz played in the background. Milan looked good as hell across from me in his tailored black suit jacket, with his watch glinting every time he lifted his glass. That man knew how to dress. I swear, half the time I just stared at him and wondered how he even picked me.
Quickly shaking my thoughts, I got my mind back on track with the task at hand. I wasn’t going to allow myself to get distracted by his smile or how deep his voice sounded when he ordered the steak. I had something to say, and I was going to be heard.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Milan commented, brows lifting as he cut into his steak. “Is everything straight?”
I twirled my straw in the peach Bellini sitting in front of me, giving myself a second. “Yeah, I’m good. I’ve just been thinking a lot lately.”
“Hmmm.” He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “That sounds like trouble.”
“Nah, not trouble.” I shook my head. “It’s just... I realized I’ve been sitting around too much. All my days are consistent with me waiting for you to get free, and then when you are busy, I’m just in the house, bored and overthinking.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “You sayin’ I don’t give you enough time?”
“I’m saying I want something of my own again. Something like cutting hair the way I used to. I want a reason to get dressed in the morning besides Target runs.” I leaned forward. “I wanna start back working, baby.”
Milan sat there with the knife and fork, pausing mid-air. For a second, I thought he was going to shut everything down and continue eating, but he set down the utensils slowly and wiped his mouth. “Work?” he asked, scrunching up his face in confusion.
“Yeah.” I nodded, my heart racing like I had run a marathon, but I kept my voice calm. “I love how you take care of me, Milan. You treat me amazingly. You’re my protector, my provider, my man, but I don’t wanna just sit home watching the days go by. I need to get active with my life.”
Milan didn’t answer right away. He just stared at me as if he were weighing a thousand things in his head. He then sipped his drink and leaned in closer. “You know I don’t like the idea of you stressing over no job when I got us. However, if it’s what you need to feel a certain way, then I can’t tell you no.”
Relief rushed through me, but I still searched his face for certainty. “So you’re cool with it?”
“I ain’t gon’ lie. A part of me doesn’t like it. I like knowing you’re safe and comfortable with no worries. But...” He reached across the table and slid his hand over mine. “I also want you to be happy. If work’s gon’ do that, then fuck it. Just don’t let it pull you away from me.”
I smiled, squeezing his hand back. “Never that. I just wanna feel like I’m moving, too. Not just watching you move.”
Milan sat there quietly for a moment as if he were deep in thought. “What are your plans? Are you going back to workingshows again, or do you plan to go into a shop and cut?” he inquired.
Honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. That was a great question that had my mind thinking almost immediately.
“I’m not sure,” I answered.
Milan cleared his throat and sat up in his seat. “How about this? I’ll give you one hundred thousand to do your own thing. Open your own shop, be your own boss. This way, you can move how you want to move. It’s long overdue anyway,” he offered.
I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach as tears threatened to fall. “Bae, no, you don’t?—”
“It’s done, Daija,” he spoke sternly.
The tears finally started to fall. “I love you,” I expressed.
He grabbed hold of my hand again. “I love you too, shorty.”
We clinked glasses across the table, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like we were finally on the same page.
