As quickly as she’d come, she’d gone. But, this time, I couldn’t resist. I removed my hand from the pocket of my jeans and gripped the back of Royce’s neck, bringing her back to me. Where she belonged. Where I needed her. Where she needed to be.
Her softness was heavenly against my rigidness. I lowered my hand, wrapping my arm around her waist.
“Ishmael–”
Sultriness toggled with her tone.
“Couples usually end their time together with a goodbye hug. I can’t have you leaving without giving me mine.”
Relaxing against me, Royce succumbed to her defeat. It didn’t matter what her head or heart were screaming. Her body was willing to do what they were unsure of. In my arms, she maneuvered, facing me.
She was so close.
Still, she wasn’t close enough.
Her arms wrapped around my neck. Her chin lifted, barely clearing my shoulder. Naturally, I surrounded her. Pulling her as deep into my web as humanly possible.
Everything was supple. She was loose at the limbs. Comfort coaxed her. Elevated her degree of softness. She was like putty in my hands.
“Goodnight, Ishmael.”
She wasn’t breathing. Not even when she pulled away. This time, I didn’t disrupt her. I allowed her to walk away. I had to. Our night wouldn’t end here if I didn’t. And, too much was at stake for us to explore each other’s sacred quarters.
Each other’s private real estate.
Each other’s precious gems.
Buried treasures.
“Goodnight, Royce.”
I rubbed my hand through my beard. My jawline flexed as I watched Daniels go on and on about the images that had recently surfaced.
“My concern isn’t only with his obvious addiction to escorts and sex workers, but if he’ll use the taxpayer’s money to support it when he’s in office.”
Brain matter coated the screen as I fired a single kill shot. Straight to his dome. From a mile away. At a secure location. With no chance of being discovered. My skills were far too advanced for the authorities’ small, limited capacities.
“That campaign is being funded by private donors. It makes me wonder if that money is how he’s managing his expensive habits and if the donors are aware of where their money is going,” he continued, reminding me that I was far removed from my past and trying to build a better future for Berkeley.
Sex worker.
The term made my blood boil. Royce was not in the business of selling her pussy. She was selling her talents. Her resourcefulness. Her ability to turn messes into miracles. Her gift. Her knowledge. Not her pussy.
Matte’s fists clashed with my office door as she pushed it open.
“Sixty seconds, Mr. Grayson.”
“Headed down.”
The office building was littered with reporters. Every inch of the press conference room was filled with those dying to hear more about what was happening in my world. The part of it that wasn’t their concern. The private part.
I was up from my desk, sliding my cell in my pocket within the next few seconds. Three minutes of my time was all the press was allotted and I wouldn’t be in front of them a minute more.
I took the elevator with Cameron, Matte, and Sarah surrounding me. Together, we stepped out into the lobby, greeted with the flashing lights of cameras. Microphones were angled towards us, but distance was maintained. It was evident I prioritized my personal space. Reporters had learned it earlier on in my campaign.
The chatter in the conference room quieted upon my arrival. I stepped up onto the platform, stopping at the podium where the microphone was waiting. The clock on the back of the wall began. I was down to two minutes and fifty seconds before I opened my mouth.
“Uh mmm.” I cleared my throat.
