Still…
A woman needed to keep a man guessing. She needed to be bold and daring. Needed to know how to have a life outside of having a man. She needed to know how to live life on the edge…just a little. Throw caution to the wind and give into her desires, responsibly, of course. But not be so accessible to a man—all the time.
Make him wait. Just a little. Give him something to yearn, something to dream about. Women needed to know how to say, “Come hither” or “Here I am, my love” in her dress, in her eyes, in her body language, without ever opening her mouth.
There was an art to throwing oneself at a man without seeming…thirsty.
In Nairobia’s opinion, thirsty women were unattractive and depressive, which was probably why she had no females in her inner circle that she could honestly call a friend. Acquaintances? Why of course. She had plenty of those.
But a true girlfriend in every sense of the word, she did not exist in Nairobia’s world. She found most women backstabbing, conniving, and petty. Rich or poor, women could be messy. And Nairobia had no time for drama and mess. Period.
And any woman smiling in her face usually had an ulterior motive, especially one whose smile didn’t quite shine in her eyes. Like the one plastered over Lenora Samuels’ lips. She was the head of one of the world’s top literary agencies in the publishing world—LS Literary Agency—and, yet, she always came across as fake. Like now, as she sat across from Nairobia—at a cute Afro-Asian restaurant in Harlem, sipping her cocktail, while trying to convince Nairobia to allow her to shop her next book, Sweet Pleasures.
Nairobia stared at her, blinking every so often. Lenora Samuels was two screws short of crazy if she thought she would be foolish enough to let her represent her literary interests. Her last two books had both landed on the New York Times bestseller list and earned starred reviews from critics from around the globe, as well as selling over three million copies to date. Nairobia would never help fatten her bank accounts.
“Nairobia, my darling, I think we’d make a fabulous team,” Lenora pitched, swiping her bangs from her eyes with a manicured finger. “There’s no one else in the literary industry who’ll have your best interests at heart more than I, my darling.” Lenora flashed another smile. “I’m a relentless beast who gets lucrative results, my darling.”
Nairobia matched her smile with one of her own, forced and fake. But she said nothing. Sure, Lenora was one of the best in the literary world, but she wasn’t the best. She was gossipy. And despite all of her friendly overtures, Nairobia had taken an immediate dislike to her.
“I know—” Lenora started again.
Nairobia’s cell phone rang. She ignored it.
“You were saying?” Nairobia said, more out of courtesy than anything else, because the fact of the matter was, she didn’t give a damn.
“Well, Nai—”
It rang again. Nairobia pulled it out of her bag and glanced at the screen.
It was Josiah.
Lenora hiked up one eyebrow. “Do you need to take that?” She sounded annoyed that her pitch to sign on as her agent was being interrupted.
Nairobia tossed her phone back into her bag. “No, no. I’m fine. Continue.”
“Well, like I was saying. I know a darling editor over at M&M Publishing who would simply stain her undies to sink her teeth into your manuscript. I’m telling you, my darling, she’d love to have you onboard.”
Nairobia bristled. M&M Publishing had been Marcel’s wife’s publishing house before she’d…
Nairobia shook her head, and said, “Let’s be clear, darling. I already have an agent who I adore immensely. Besides, poaching contracts away from another agent is underhanded and tasteless. It’s unethical, no?” Nairobia tilted her head, and raised her brow for effect. She didn’t wait for her response. “I, my darling, would never entertain doing business with a thieving agent.”
Lenora blinked in surprise, swinging her weave. “Thieving? Poaching? Ha! I beg your pardon. I do no such thing. I’ve not climbed the ladder of success by stealing, my darling. I’ve climbed up the ladder and smashed open the ceiling of opportunity by taking what I want. I make things happen. I make careers, lovey. And I can snatch them away.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. My name rings bells.”
Nairobia rolled her eyes. “Lenora, darling, bell ringing or not, you’re ruthless and delusional.” She pulled out the diamond-tipped pins that held her hair into a sleek chignon, then shook it free, tossing her own mane over her shoulder. “What you’re trying to do is steal another agent’s client. Call it what you will. But, if you’re trying to pilfer another agent’s contracts, you’ll try to steal my coins. And, I, my darling, have the resources, the connections, and the coins to ruin you if you dared.” Nairobia snapped her fingers, mimicking Lenora. “Snap. Just like that. And, trust me. My bells ring louder.”