I hesitated and paused with my hand on the doorknob. Whatever brought Aven back and into my lobby was about to disrupt the life I’d built in her absence. I was caught in the crosshairs as the past and present met.
The intercom remained silent, but I sensed Tamika waiting for me to emerge. Aven was on the other side of the office door. Her presence was like a storm front moving in, impossible to stop, capable of either nourishing rain or devastatingdestruction. There was only one way to find out which it would be.
I blew out air, squared my shoulders, and turned the knob.
Chapter
Three
AVEN
I shifted in the sleek leather chair, crossing and uncrossing my legs for the third time in five minutes. The reception area of Black Security & Investigations incorporated polished surfaces and muted colors, which screamed success in an understated way only real money could buy. It was not the flashy, lottery winner kind of rich, but built-from-nothing had become Langston Black’s brand. My sweaty palms left prints on the arms of the chair, and I resisted the urge to wipe them on the one good pair of slacks I owned.
The receptionist, Tamika, according to her nameplate, glanced up at me again, her eyes narrowed like I was a stain she couldn’t quite identify on her pristine white blouse. She’d been watching me since I walked in ten minutes ago, pretending to be busy with her computer while silently assessing everything from my slightly scuffed pumps to the way my twist-out frizzed in the July humidity.
“Mr. Black will be with you shortly,” she said for the third time, her smile professional but frigid.” The way she said “Mr. Black” made it clear she thought of him as more than just a boss.Interesting.
“No rush,” I lied, flashing my own fake smile.
What I actually had was about forty-three dollars left in my checking account and a growing sense of desperation threatening to crack the confident façade I’d maintained since walking through the glass doors with my shoulders back and chin high, the way Momma taught me.“Even when you’re drowning, baby, make them think you can walk on water,”she used to say.
I surveyed the space while pretending not to notice Tamika’s continued scrutiny. The office was impressive, with exposed brick walls, original artwork featuring Black artists I recognized, and windows flooded the space with natural light. A far cry from the struggling business I’d imagined when I’d first heard Langston stayed in town. The place screamed legitimacy from the awards displayed in a modest glass case to the framed news articles about “rising star security firm, Black Security & Investigations.”
The Langston Black I remembered had been a boy with potential buried under a mountain of other people’s expectations and his own mistakes. This office belonged to a man who’d not only overcome those expectations but had shattered them entirely. The thought made my stomach clench with admiration and jealousy.
Tamika leaned forward, speaking into her phone. “Mr. Black?” Her voice softened, losing some of its professional edge.
I couldn’t hear the response, but Tamika’s eyes flicked to me, her expression shifting subtly before she replied, “Yes, sir. Right away.”
The double doors behind her desk remained closed, and my heart rate kicked up a notch. What was Langston saying about me? Would he remember who I was? Fifteen years was a long time, and people changed. The evidence was all around me inthis office that a seventeen-year-old Langston could never have imagined owning.
I reached up to smooth my hair, then forced my hand back down to my lap. I hadn’t come here to impress Langston Black. I came because I was desperate, needing a job yesterday. And, if I was being completely honest with myself, a small, petty part of me wanted to see his face when he realized the girl who’d saved his ass all those years ago was back and needed something in return.
The door finally opened, and my rehearsed speech evaporated from my mind like morning dew under a merciless sun.
Langston Black entered the reception area, and it was like watching a man’s body wearing the face of someone I once knew. Gone was the lanky teenager with the chip on his shoulder and perpetual scowl. In his place stood a man who commanded attention without trying. Broad shoulders filled out a charcoal suit that had definitely not come off any department store rack.
He wore a closely cropped beard, framing a jawline that only sharpened with age. His eyes still held a storm-cloud darkness that used to make my teenage heart skip beats.
Those eyes locked with mine now, widening for a fraction of a second before hardening with recognition. Emotions flickered across his face too quickly to name, and settled into something guarded and unreadable.
“Aven.” My name in his mouth felt different from what I remembered, deeper, controlled, with none of the easy familiarity we’d once shared.
“Langston.” I stood, suddenly aware of every imperfection in my appearance, the hem of my blouse had come untucked during the bus ride downtown, the small coffee stain on my sleeve, and the fact my hair was fighting the products I’d carefully applied this morning.
He remained in the doorway, one hand on the handle as if he might retreat inside at any moment. Tense silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken history.
“You look… different.” He paused. His eyes left me feeling exposed.
“So do you. Success looks good on you,” I commented.
It was now or never. I squared my shoulders and blurted out the line I’d practiced ever since I noticed his building. “I need a job.”
The effect was immediate and exactly what I’d hoped for, shock rippling across his features before his jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking along the edge like a time bomb.
“My office. Now,” he demanded, his words clipped and cold.
I grabbed my purse and followed him through the double doors, feeling Tamika’s curious gaze burning into my back. The hallway beyond was lined with more artwork and closed office doors with frosted glass. Langston walked ahead without checking if I followed. His back was rigid with tension.
