Page 632 of Hell Hath No Fury
Kareem- “I texted myself and programmed my number while you slept, in case you’re wondering. After the night we had, I didn’t want to miss out on another chance.”
I should be pissed, and for a tiny second, I am, but it fades quickly. My skin grows hot, and flutters build in my gut at the memory of our night together. Picturing how he touched me, and caressed every inch of my body, has my senses just as high as they were then. My finger hovers in place, but I fight the urge to respond. I don’t need this right now.
Friday night was it: one night. A moment in time, or a lapse of judgment, depends on how one looks at it. It doesn’t really matter. It was what I needed at that moment, and being with him served its purpose.
But goodness, was he amazing in bed.
I rub my neck, still staring at the screen. What would it hurt to respond? It’s not like either of us is looking for anything serious. But who couldn’t benefit from great sex? I think about what he’s doing right now. Is he waiting for me to answer? Are his fingers pressed against his phone, ready to reply?
“Mm,” I mutter and pull at the collar of my shirt.
The memory of what he did with those fingers sends a chill sweeping through my body. I bite my lip before pulling it between my teeth to chew on it.Fuck it. I prepare to type a response, but I’m interrupted by a knock at my door. When I look up, my assistant is standing at the threshold.
“Good Morning, Rylan. Both Mr. Basses are waiting in the conference room.”
Choosing to ignorehim, I nod and grab my padfolio from the center of my desk. “Let’s get this over with.” I heave a sigh.
Priscilla gives me a soft smile but chooses to keep her words to herself. I should probably follow her lead. Speaking out will change nothing about the circumstances. The best thing to do is to put on my big girl panties and show them I don’t need a babysitter.
* * *
Kareem
I stare at my phone, waiting for Rylan to respond. Well hoping she does is more like it. She’s probably looking at her screen thinking I’m some crazy fucking stalker. But honestly, I don’t care if she does as long as she answers me. All weekend long, the only thing I thought about was her. Shit, my pillow still carries the scent of her perfume two days after she left. That’s how I know I need to have her.
So call it what you want, but I call it fate. I mean, let’s be real. What are the odds that I run into the one woman who’s managed to intrigue me beyond a physical level on my first night in town? No, we didn’t spend much time together, and we didn’t converse much at all. But when she walked into that lounge, I knew I had to talk to her. And now that I’ve had her in my bed, all I want is the chance to make her mine.
Not to mention, I love the way her body obeys me. Just thinking about it now makes my dick throb. My mind returns to Friday night, and I adjust my seat. The last thing I need is to be hard in this fucking meeting.
“KJ, can you put the damn phone away? They’ll be here in a minute, so be presentable,” my father barks.
I clear my throat and press my lips together to keep from saying something I might regret. Over the years, I’ve learned not to take his tone personally. He’s a hard man, shit, every generation before me, even my dad and uncles’, is the same. Quick-tempered and full of bass. I chuckle at the saying. It’s something my mother would say to me anytime I was in trouble.
It’d make him happy if I did what he asked. Instead, I glance at him from the corner of my eye. Sometimes I wonder how he’d react if things didn’t go his way—like today, for example. Here I am, in yet another office of his. I’ve seen more people than I’ve cared to in the last one-hundred-eighty-days. This is the last place I want to be, but we had a deal. Time’s up, and now I have to come through on my end of the bargain. It doesn’t mean I have to like it, but I’m a man of my word.
The deal was that I could have five years to do whatever I wanted after college. And I did precisely that: traveled, partied, and lived freely. Now, I have to step up and learn the family business. Don’t get me wrong. My father has built a legacy, one I’m proud to have passed down to me. I only wish things could go differently.
He glares at me, twisting his neck, daring me to defy his request. I push a chuckle through my nose and straighten in my seat. I glance down at my phone one more time before lifting in my seat to slip it into my pocket. As I do this, the glass doors open, sending a subtle screech through the room. I direct my gaze in that direction, immediately frozen in place.
“Rylan.” Even though I whisper her name, she seems to have heard me.
Her eyes meet mine, and she pauses mid-step. We stare at each other for what feels like a million years, but it is only seconds.
“Thank you for joining us, Ms. St. James. This is my son, Kareem Jr,” dad introduces us.
I jump to my feet, not caring that I missed my pocket, sending my phone to the floor. Her eyes follow the device before reconnecting with mine. Licking my lips, I inch closer, holding a hand out to shake hers.
What’d I tell you?
Fate.
She slipped away while I was sleeping Saturday morning and ignored every text I sent her way today. But here she is, unable to avoid me.
I lick my lips, letting my eyes roam her frame. “Nice to meet you,” I say, not even hiding the grin on my face.
She takes in a breath, and I can tell she’s nervous. Rylan reluctantly shakes my hand before awkwardly scurrying to the opposite side of the table. She sits, working hard to avoid looking at me. The young woman who entered with her takes a place beside her, smiling at both my father and me.
“I’ve called everyone here today to discuss my son’s addition to the team.” My father begins the speech he’s given to the five other offices we have around the country, but I tune him out.
