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“Nothing wrong with wanting some lavishness, I agree. However, what Simone wants, she gets by earning it. You act like you put a roof over her head and clothes on her back. Your name may have been on the title of that bougie-ass condo you shared, but Simone was paying for half—of everything. I can pull up her bank transactions if you need a refresher. Stop acting like only you can give her the high life. She never needed you or any man to give her anything.”
Frustration grows on Trent in a red hue, glowing underneath his fake tan. He bares his teeth as he grits. “I’m not only talking about the financial provisions, but about what we shared in the bedroom.”
Butch comes to my side, cracking his neck. He’s ready to unleash a few punches on Trent on my behalf. I get it. I, too, would do it for him if someone was talking trash about his Candy. The brotherhood takes care of its own.
My smile turns feral, showing him all my teeth. “Naw, man. My woman prefers a working man’s hands compared to puny, manicured mittens. She likes them rough, taking control.”
I don’t say anymore—my and Simone’s bedroom life isn’t something I wish to share with anyone. He can let his imagination run wild.
Trent’s eyes double in size as my words sink in. “She…Simone would never…”
Butch snorts, returning to his seat. He knows I won the battle.
“You’re lying,” Trent argues weakly. “I know my Simone. She would never…she never submitted. She likes control, needs it.”
Not in everything.No wonder the guy never could please Simone. He never got to know the real her—a boss on the streets, and a brat in the sheets.
Done with fucking about, I return my attention to my laptop, focusing on putting my program into action. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Trent, or whatever helps you not think about Simone asleep in my arms.”
My words finally hit their mark. Trent pushes away from the table, standing quickly. He speed-walks out of the conference room like his shoes suddenly caught fire.
When he passes over the threshold into the hall, I hit the start button on my program, smiling. Victory is sweet.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
SIMONE
“Crap,” I mutter, flipping through a client’s file.
I’ve combed through it three times, and the one form I’m looking for still isn’t with the rest of the documents. It’s rare if paperwork goes missing. Usually, it means they pulled the form for verification and never returned it to the previous year’s file before they sent it offsite. This means the form is most likely with the current file in document control’s fire safe storage room on the first floor.
“Crap,” I repeat, with a groan.
“If you need to take a shit, go already. You don’t need to announce your bathroom habits to me,” Punk chastises. “I told you the salad you had for lunch was going to wreak havoc on your gut, but would you listen to me? Noooo.”
I close the file and slap him on the back of the head with it. “Don’t be such a moron. I’m not complaining about a bowel movement.”
“Then what are you moaning about?”
“I’m missing a major form regarding the client, and it’s most likely in document control with the client’s current year file.”
“Ah. Meaning, we need to interact with your floozy ex-boss, correct?”
“Exactly.” I sigh, defeated. “It’s not like I could avoid interacting with her during the investigation, but I was hoping to hold it off until I’d finished all the previous year’s files.”
Punk stands from his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “Let’s get this over with.”
“You’ll stay with me, right?” I ask, biting my thumbnail. Even I can hear the desperation in my voice.
“Yeah, Priss. I’ll be with you the whole time. No worries.”
Reassured, I get to my feet, straightening out my outfit. I swipe the file off the table before I stride out of the conference room, with Punk at my back.
A bizarre sense of déjà vu sweeps over me when I find myself outside Cynthia’s office. Many times I stood outside this door, asking permission to dig deeper into a client’s file. The only difference this time is, she’s not my boss.
There are loud, muffled voices on the other side of the door, but I think nothing of it as I raise my fist to knock.
Before my knuckles meet the door, it quickly swings open, hitting the interior wall. I jump in my heels, my heartbeat ratcheting up a couple notches. To my surprise, it’s not Cynthia on the other side of the door, but Trent.
