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She slipped into the powder room to freshen up. Quentin came in right behind her before Irys had a chance to lock the door. “Enjoying the party?” she asked.
“Yes, I am, but I had to steal a moment alone with you. I’ll be glad when all this fanfare is over and done with. I just want to get down to the business of being married to you, Irys.”
She smiled at him with sincere love. He was deliciously good-looking with his bald head and neatly trimmed goatee. She asked him to wear his favorite Sean John suit; without a shirt. “I know, baby. I appreciate you going along with all the planning. You know, I just want the fairy-tale wedding.”
“And you deserve it,” Quentin said as he brushed a lock of dark brown hair from her forehead. She had large round eyes with long, luxurious lashes. He even thought the freckles on her face were precious. “You are one fine black woman. I’ll find a way to get you whatever you want.”
He pressed himself against her firm bottom and stroked her cleavage from behind.
“I’ll think we’ll be missed if we stay in here much longer, baby.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“Well, a fuck is what you want and you know I hate quickies. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”
He reluctantly pulled himself away and followed Irys back out to the living room. A small crowd had gathered over by the bar. Irys’ brother was waving them over. “I guess Ileana is here, huh?” Irys asked rhetorically.
Irys grabbed Quentin’s hand and walked quickly over to the crowd. She then let his hand go so she could embrace her friend. “I’m so glad you made it here safely. It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long.”
Ileana hugged her back. “I know it has.”
Quentin stepped closer to get a look at the woman he’d heard so much about. Ileana was indeed stunning. The most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He suddenly recalled thinking the same thing the first time he’d met her. Ileana was not a woman whose face you’d forget even if you didn’t remember her name. It had been a long time ago, but he’d been with Ileana.
Quentin waited for recognition to cross her face. “You must be the lucky man. Hello, I’m Ileana.” She extended her hand to him.
“I’ve heard so much about you, I’m glad you could make it to the party,” he said as he took her soft hand in his. Ileana’s touch brought back the memory of how her body felt with him buried deep inside. Quentin couldn’t believe she didn’t know who he was. Then he realized she would hardly admit it at his engagement party.
“Come, get something to eat,” Irys instructed her as she led her to the buffet table. Once they were out of earshot, she turned to Ileana. “So what do you think?”
“He is definitely one fine-ass man. I can’t believe you never sent me a picture or anything.”
“You know how scatterbrained I can get sometimes when I’m wrapped up in my love thang. I just hope you two don’t get along too well,” Irys said with a grin.
Ileana thought about just how well they had gotten along that one weekend years ago. She couldn’t believe this was the same man. Back then he called himself Jontarius. Was that a fake name or was Quentin? Either way, this meant trouble for the three of them.
Sitting beside Irys on the couch, Ileana caught Quentin staring at her several times. He was even more handsome than he had been when they met at an after party Sean Combs had thrown. It was a wild time that lasted for two days. Ileana hadn’t seen Jontarius/Quentin since then. His lovemaking was definitely memorable. He was the best she had. Ever. Ileana was not an easy woman to please in the bedroom. Most men tried too hard to impress her. Quentin was a natural. His strokes deep and hard. His tongue adventurous. His curiosity insatiable.
Irys’ brother turned down the lights and the deejay threw on a slow jam. Quentin led his fiancée to the center of the room. They held each other as they swayed to the music. Near the end of the song, Irys whispered into his ear. “Why don’t you ask Ileana to dance?”
Quentin couldn’t think of a good reason to say no. And honestly he didn’t want to. He walked over to her as she sat perched on the arm of the couch. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
Floetry’s “Say Yes” began to play as Ileana took his hand. She wondered what he was going to say. “Are you treating my girl right?”
“I’ve never done anything to hurt her. I respect and care for her.”
“Good. You should have a happy life together then.” Ileana laid her head on his shoulder as they danced. Her bloodred tube dress clung to all the right curves.
“Where are you staying?” Quentin couldn’t help asking.
“My mother has a place near the Cloisters. She’s vacationing, so I’ll just crash there until I head back to Nevada.”
“Yeah, I’ve been there with Irys. Your mother’s nearly as beautiful as you are.”
“Thank you.” She could tell he was waiting for her to say something. She wouldn’t be the one to rock the boat. He subtly pulled her closer. Ileana could feel his reaction.
“I love this song.”
“Yes, I can see that,” she said, trying not to smile.
