Nairobia ran a hand through her hair. “MarSell, mijn liefde. Bonjour. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“I was thinking about you, baby,” he said in his rich baritone voice. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure.” The elevator dinged, announcing the arrival to Nairobia’s floor. She stepped out into the marble foyer when the door slid open. “You know I live for today, my darling. Why?”
“Well, baby, how about you live for tomorrow and let me whisk you away for the day?”
“Oh, no, no, my love.” Nairobia placed her palm against a wall-mounted security pad. “You call me from a private number, then want to kidnap me for the day?” The smooth mahogany doors slid open automatically. And Nairobia stepped in.
Marcel chuckled. “I’m not tryna kidnap you, baby. Simply tryna spend the day with a beautiful woman on my arm.”
Nairobia dropped her bag and keys on the credenza, then headed to the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of coconut water from the massive stainless steel refrigerator and popped it open.
“Flattery will get you almost everywhere,” she teased.
Marcel smiled. “Ah. Then permettez-moi de vous ai…” Let me have you. “Pour la journée.” For the day.
She took a sip from her water. “Mmm,” she moaned, leaning up against the kitchen’s marble island. She had a state-of-the-art kitchen, but couldn’t tell you where most of the cookware or cutlery were. “You know I love when you speak in French. Keep it up and I may lose myself to you.”
“Then come lose yourself, bébé. Come to Rhode Island with me.”
“Rhode Island? Why on heaven’s earth would I want to go there?”
“Because I’d like to be in the presence of your company,” Marcel said firmly.
“And you’ve called me from a private number, no? You call me private like I’m some stranger to you, no?”
Marcel shook his head. “Definitely not. My bad, baby. I’ll text you my number if that’ll make you feel better.”
She feigned a pout. “It is too late. Damage already done.”
“Nah, it’s never too late, baby.”
He’d forgotten to unblock his number when he’d called her as he had the few other times he’d called her. He’d had his number changed and blocked shortly after Marika’s death. Too many people had had his number, and the phone calls had been overwhelming—from those wishing to extend their condolences to the nosey-asses wanting to know what had happened to the relentless reporters fishing for a story. It’d been too much for him to deal with, so he changed his number, cutting off everyone’s direct access to him.
Less than a second later, Nairobia’s phone pinged.
“Did my text come through, yet?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said as she opened the text with his number. “Now, tell me. What exactly is in Rhode Island?”
Marcel smiled. “Laila Reynolds is giving a free concert in Providence,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. As if she would have known this already.
“Oh,” was all she said.
Nairobia liked the R&B singer. She even had both her albums. Autographed. But that did not mean she stayed abreast of the sultry songstress’ tour schedule. However, she did enjoy a good show. “When? And where?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. At India Pointe Park. And I want you to attend with me.”
Nairobia took another swig of her water. “And why would I do that, MarSell, my darling? So you can hold me hostage, then have your way with me?”
Marcel laughed. “I assure you, baby. I won’t do anything against your will. Je le promet.” I promise.
“Very good. Now what time shall I expect you?”
Marcel grinned. “My driver should be there around ten.”
“Okay. I’ll be down in the lobby waiting.”
“We’ll be outside waiting. See you tomorrow, beautiful.”
Nairobia smiled. “Oh, and MarSell, my darling…”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“U krijgt geen kut.” You will get no pussy.
Marcel knew what kut meant, so he knew that whatever she said had something to do with her pussy. He groaned. “Damn, baby. What did you say about that beautiful pussy of yours?”
Nairobia repeated herself. “I said you would not get any of it. You will not taste, or feel the insides of my kut. Comprendre?”
Marcel let out a hearty laugh. “Aiight, baby. I understand. Whatever you say. But how about some of those sweet kisses instead?”
Nairobia felt her body warming. There was something deliciously irresistible about him. But she would not allow him to become a distraction for her. Period.