Page 183 of Invisible Bars
“Girl, yes! Of course! We’re out here talking like two best friends catching up!”
I smiled faintly.
“Just give me his number.” Paris unlocked her phone. “Although, I have no idea how this conversation is about to go.”
Me neither, I wanted to say.
But all I could do was brace myself and pray he didn’t burn the whole place down before I got to try their lemon balm tea.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
IMANIO “GATEZ”
Isat at the head of the long glass table, one leg casually crossed, hand flexing near my mouth as a marketing exec finished rambling about demographic pivots.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown Caller.
Then a second time.
I narrowed my eyes, clicked the side button, and let it go to voicemail… again.
“So, if we roll out the press kits next week, we can shift the perception of your recent acquisition as a philanthropic move rather than a power grab,” the exec was saying, too smug for someone who just said “philanthropic” like it was a garnish.
Buzz.
Unknown Caller.
I exhaled sharply through my nose, lifted a hand, and stood.
“Hold that thought.”
Without waiting for confirmation, I stepped out into the hallway and answered the call.
“Yeah?”
“Imanio, it’s Paris.”
“Paris?” I retorted in confusion.
“Yes,thatParis. Listen, I’m at the café on 8thwith your wife. She’s shaken up. Some employees accused her of stealing your credit card. It got ugly.”
“They what?!” I roared.
“She tried to explain who she was, but she was ticcing and panicking. I got here in time to shut it down, but… she’s embarrassed, Imanio. Real embarrassed. People had their phones out.”
My fist was clenched so tightly that I could feel the sharp crack of my bones, a painful reminder of my mounting anger. My chest throbbed with an overwhelming rage that threatened to consume me. I couldn’t shake Naji’s face from my mind—scared, ticcing, trying to explain herself to people who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.
“I’m gonna burn that whole fuckin’ place to the ground,” I growled. “Bring her to my office,” I instructed, low and lethal. “I’m texting you the address. Let me know when y’all arrive.”
I ended the call, called Reese to cancel her scheduled pickup then turned back toward the boardroom, and yanked the door open.
“I need y’all to wrap this up! Now! We got fifteen minutes tops! I have an emergency!”
Nobody questioned me… not when I said it like that.
Fifteen minutes later, I paced in my office, anxiously awaiting Paris’s text. I moved back and forth, feeling increasingly frustrated. I had taken off my suit jacket and loosened my tie—anger was on a thousand and counting.
