I could look, you know.
Just a quick peek.
Not like anybody would know.
But no… that felt too predictable. And it’s not like it’s gonna tell me why he’s so strict. Men like that didn’t leave their trauma out in the open.
Maybe I should check the medicine cabinet.
What am I thinking?This ain’t his house. My attention shifted instead to the desk.
A neat stack of papers sat there, perfectly aligned. I stepped closer, tilting my head as I read it.
Sucré.
I knew he was here for the event. Still, this doesn’t look like the invitations that were sent, it looked more…internal. I leaned in, curiosity prickling?—
“You don’t like to listen, do you?”
I jumped.
My hands flew behind my back so fast it was as if I got caught doing something wrong.
“No,” I said, turning toward him with a shrug, playing it off. “Not really.”
“Tuh.” He shut the door behind him. “I don’t know if this will work out for us then, Desire. ‘Cause I really don’t like repeating myself.”
I exhaled through my nose, kinda irritated. “You said bedroom and I’m in the bedroom so you don’t really need to repeat anything.”
“I said bed.”
Whoops.
“Oh. See, now I get it.”
His eyes stay on me, unimpressed.
I straightened. “I’m sorry.”
He watched me for a second like he was deciding still, then gestured. “Come here.”
I walked over slower this time, stopping right in front of him. Close enough to feel him, not close enough to touch.
“Sit.”
I glanced at the bed, then back at him. “You always this warm and welcoming to your guests, Mr. S?”
He didn’t answer but I could see the vein growing in his temple.
I smiled to myself and sat anyway, crossing my legs, smoothing my hands over my thighs like I had all the patience in the world for whatever game he’s playing.
He stayed standing.
The silence stretched again, and I was positive he was doing that on purpose. Letting it sit. Letting me feel it. Quietly asserting dominance over me.
I didn’t like that.
So I fixed it.
