Just hours ago, he was in front of cameras telling men to stop policing a woman’s real estate. Tonight, he was at a private dinner, policing a woman’s time.
“A walking contradiction, you are, sir.”
“I’m Hakem.” Hakem began to rise from his seat. “Nice to me–”
“Move another inch and I will empty the entire clip in your chest for even thinking about getting close to something that belongs to me.”
Hakem stilled.
It was at that moment that I remembered the unforgettable flaw.
He’s no soldier.
“Dismiss your guest, Royce, or I will fold his shoulders and head together with one blow to his neck. If he’s lucky, he will survive a crushed windpipe, but the chance is highly unlikely.”
I turned my head in the opposite direction. Collecting myself felt impossible.
“Royce.”
“Goodnight, Hakem.”
I faced my date, who was partially confused and fully unprepared for the hell I knew Ishmael would bring.
Hakem was a very smart man. He stood, quietly making his exit. I lowered my gaze, fixing it on the contents of the table. As much as I wanted to call Ishmael’s bluff, I didn’t want Hakem to lose his life because of it. There was a chance he would.
Ishmael took the seat Hakem once occupied. The wine was delivered as his bottom touched the cushion. Grace was perplexed, but poured a glass of wine for us both anyway. Ishmael refused his. I pulled my close for comfort, placed it at my lips, and took a big sip.
I didn’t bother with the proper etiquette. I didn’t give a damn how the wine smelled. For now, I cared about its potency. I needed it to numb the nerves that were splitting rapidly and uncontrollable.
“I’ll have cognac. Neat.”
“Yes, sir. Can I get you two started with appetizers?”
Ishmael nodded. His orbs were fixed on me.
Unmoving. Unblinking. Unchanging.
“Bring us the best in the house.”
“I can do that for you.”
“Thank you.”
Grace disappeared, leaving us alone again. I matched Ishmael’s gaze. My heart was unsteady. So was my breathing. Fine bumps riddled my skin. Everything quieted around us.
“What are you doing?” I didn’t recognize my voice. Neither did I recognize myself.
“I’m pretending to be your man, Royce. Isn’t that the routeyouchose instead of paying to make this shit go away?”
Ishmael leaned forward.
“I’ve never been one to half-ass, my baby. As my woman, I’m expecting your undivided attention, unwavering support, and faithfulness. I can’t have the word on the streets being that the future mayor can’t keep his woman on a leash.”
As Ishmael sat back, I pulled his glass of wine closer. It would be silly to allow it to go to waste.
Admittedly, I was amused. But, undoubtedly, I was smitten. I could listen to Ishmael talk shit for hours without growing tired.
He was egotistical, but not too much.
