A man answered the door, looking like someone who just got out of jail for a double homicide. “What?” he yelled over the music, and I could still barely hear him.
I pulled out my checkbook. “How much will it take for you to pack and move?”
“Say what, asshole?”
“I want you out of this building tomorrow. And I’ll give you ten grand if you do it. What do you say?” I wrote out the check and held it up. “I’m good for it.”
He eyed the money in my hand, his eyes narrowing. Without hesitation, he snatched it and shoved it into his pocket.
“We’ve got a deal?”
He nodded then slammed the door in my face.
12
Rome
I sat at my desk and ate my yogurt. I didn’t get paid until Friday, so I had to make whatever was left in my fridge stretch for a few more days. At this time of the month, I always lost a little extra weight—but not on purpose.
I arranged a food drive that morning that would take place the following Saturday. It was a breakfast drive for the homeless in Brooklyn. From police reports, a lot of them were Vietnam vets who never found their footing when they returned home. Government constantly moved homeless people from one place to the next to get them off the street, but that didn’t solve anything. What we needed was a new system to rehabilitate these people—not put them on a different sidewalk.
The door opened, and the sexiest man in New York walked inside. Wearing a black suit that made the black ink of my printer seem white, he walked inside and owned the room I paid rent to keep. He wore a silver tie and an ivory collared shirt, looking like he was running for president of the United States.
Every time I saw him, I got a little shaky.
He walked to my desk without saying hello, his eyes glued to my face like a predator searching for prey. When he looked at me like that, he didn’t just make me feel desirable—he owned me down to the bone.
“What a nice surprise.” I’d been seeing him for weeks, but he still made me nervous in that butterflies in the stomach kind of way. Stubble was thick on his cheek because he didn’t shave that morning, and I kept picturing how it would feel against my thighs. I’d already felt that sensation a few times—and it never got old.
“I like to keep my lady on her toes.” He leaned over the desk and kissed me, his stubble feeling good against my mouth. It was more than just a hello kiss. He let it linger longer than necessary because our lips felt so right together.
My lady. I liked being his lady. “You’re turning me into a ballerina.”
He pulled his lips away, but his face still hovered near mine. He looked at me with those beautiful, icy eyes and somehow made me melt. “I’m taking you out to lunch.” He glanced at my half-eaten yogurt. “For some real food.”
Now that I’d started the yogurt, I had to finish. No way in hell was I throwing it away. “Sure. Just let me put this away.” I slipped it into a zippered bag then placed it in the fridge in the breakroom. When I returned, Calloway didn’t tease me about it like other people would. He respected my beliefs and didn’t try to change them—one of the things I liked most about him.
He wrapped his arm around my waist as we walked down the street. His large hand fit comfortably wrapped around my frame. His fingers were warm as they gripped me tightly, and he kept me tucked into his side like I might fly away if I ventured off too far. “Anything particular come to mind?”
“No. I’ll eat anything.”
“How about pizza?”
I nodded. “I could go for some pizza.”
We went to a small pizzeria and ordered. I got a single slice because I couldn’t eat anything more than that. Just having someone buy me lunch made me feel guilty. Calloway never let me pay for anything when we went out together, and while it was sweet, sometimes I didn’t know how to handle his generosity. I’d never forget the night I slept on the sidewalk, and some nice man gave me a hundred bucks for food. I burst into tears when I realized there were so many good people despite the evil ones. Calloway was one of those people, giving and selfless. That was probably why I was so smitten with him, nearly head over heels.
Calloway ate across from me, eating two slices and a salad. He didn’t comment on my lunch or even look at my plate.
“Thank you for lunch.”
His expression softened for an instant, but he tried to cover it up. “No problem, sweetheart.”
“I hope you let me pay sometime.”
He released a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t count on it.”
“Well, one of these days, it’s gonna happen. Be prepared.”