Page 30 of Kandi's Crush: A BWWM Sweet Billionaire Romance

“Our mothers attended the same high school. They’ve been trying to set us up for the past four years. I was interested, but he was too busy attending prom with starlets and pop singers. But he changed his mind after the NBA draft. What better way to improve his image than to tie him to a squeaky-clean college co-ed?”

“You’re manna from heaven. The corporate sponsors will eat you two up with a spoon. The tennis shoe and athletic wear contracts will fall from the sky. Now, if you’re smart, you’ll take advantage. You could net at least fifty thousand followers by being seen on his arm and possibly get a contract for weight loss tea or teeth whitening. I could guide you through a few steps in improving your social media presence.”

“I don’t want to increase my followers, and I don’t want to promote nasty tea. I don’t even want to date Pierre. I’m doing this as a favor to my mother. That’s it.”

“That’s it.” Natasha repeated with a tone that challenged the other two to continue the conversation.

“Since you guys aren’t being honest, I have a story to share,” Simone announced, flipping her blonde hair off her shoulders. “Two weeks ago, I met a handsome older man at the Whole Foods on Magazine. We are engaged in a full-on daddy-daughter relationship. You’re judging me. Well, let me allay your fears. He isn’t a Bill Clinton daddy. He’s more of a, um, Brad Pitt daddy. Post-Jennifer Aniston and pre-Shiloh. Before the stress of living with Angelina and all of those damn kids drained the sexy from him.”

Simone continued to regale the group on her latest daddy-daughter romance, but my thoughts drifted back to sex with Chadwick. After he’d left the guest bedroom, I’d had trouble falling asleep. The kiss had left me with a tingle between my thighs, and I’d longed to feel more of him.

But there was that little matter of my virginity.

I was an idealist and a true romantic at heart. I craved a lifetime of commitment with the perfect man who would sweep me off my feet and prove himself worthy of me.

I knew I would never settle for anything less.

“Did you decide on the mango or the red?”

I sat cross-legged on the teal blue sofa in my living room, video chatting with my mother. A glass of wine rested on the brass and glass coffee table. I didn’t want to get drunk, but I definitely needed something to get me through the evening.

“Mother, I decided on the red. I doubt many women would wear a crimson gown this time of year. I would like to stand out.”

She ignored the signal that she was getting on my nerves.

“Wow. I think the mango would look lovely with your complexion. Plus, it’s such a youthful style. The low back on the red is so . . . mature. Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

“Absolutely. One hundred percent. Unequivocally sure.”

This date with Pierre was a big deal for mother and Auntie. It was my first adult gala, and I was going with an NBA player. Last week, we’d spent a whole day shopping at Canal Place. At Saks, we’d found a dress and a spare. The red strapless gown with a low back had been my instant favorite, while the mango with illusion panels on the sides had been the one Mama and Auntie had preferred.

Despite the dull evening I was sure to have, my mother couldn’t have been more thrilled. She was more excited about this date than about my high school prom.

“Your hair,” Mama said, tilting her head to one side. “Up or down? I think you should straighten and wear it in a chic up-do. Taming that hair will highlight your beautiful face. We want to see your eyes.”

I sighed and bit my tongue. My mane was iconic. People almost instantly recognized me by my hair, and I was not willing to change it to please someone else.

My mother didn’t hate my hair—she just wanted it surrounded in hair pins until each strand was properly controlled. She wanted to fry my tresses into submission.

The symbolism of the request didn’t go unnoticed. This was less about my hair and more about me. My mother wanted to control all aspects of my life. She apparently thought it would right the wrongs of bad decisions and choices she’d made in her life, most notably falling in love with my father and getting knocked up her freshman year in college. She hovered to protect me from going down the same winding and sometimes fucked up path.

“Mama, I gotta run.”

“Wait. Are you excited about going out with Pierre? He’s cute, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. He’s nice looking.”

“Why don’t Marie and I come over and help you get ready? This could be a big night for you two. I want to make sure you look perfect.” I didn’t answer, preferring to sit in silence—an action she was all too familiar with. “Kandi, you’re a mature and capable woman. But I’m still your mother, and I want the best for you.”

“I understand. I don’t need you to doll me up. Natasha is coming over to do my makeup.”

There was a knock at my apartment door. ?In the nick of time.

“Mama, hold on for a second. I think she’s at the door right now.”

I peeked through the keyhole. On the other side of the door stood a balding man in a black jacket and white shirt. A fine mist of perspiration dotted his forehead, but he didn’t look shifty. Still, better safe than sorry.

“Who is it?” I yelled in my most ferocious voice.

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