"Then why not tell them what's going on?"
"You know the answer to that. Human behavior is predictable. Crown will move before we know for sure, and if he's wrong, that's blood I'ma have to clean up."
I grabbed the door handle.
"Give me a few days. I'll get back to you."
"Text that number when you decide."
"Okay."
I tucked the money into my hoodie and headed back to my building. The elevator ride up had my fingers itching to text the group chat, but business and personal couldn't intermingle any more than it already had.
The doors slid open, and Lynx was standing there.
"What—"
"Not out here," I snapped, pushing past him.
Inside my apartment, I kicked off my sneakers and headed straight for my room, peeling off my clothes.
"The fuck you get this money from?" Lynx asked, lifting the banded cash I placed on my dresser.
"Having a conversation with me costs. That's my fee."
"For a conversation, you get twenty bands?"
"I'm good at what I do." I shrugged.
"Damn," he whistled. "I see why you don't wanna give this shit up. If I were making twenty bands off a conversation, I'd?—"
"Why were you waiting at the elevator?" I clipped him short. The way his eyes lit up at the money didn't sit right with me. He was a little too interested in my shit.
"I wanted to make sure you were good. I saw you walk back into the building, and you seemed a little shook."
"You were watching me?" I frowned, sliding my arms into my robe.
"I glanced out the window and saw you," he answered. "Wassup, Honey? We were good until you went downstairs. Who'd you meet with?"
"We're still good. I'm just not used to a man being in my business," I said, intentionally ignoring his question.
"I'm not in your business. I'm trying to look out for you."
"And I appreciate that, but I can handle myself." I smiled.
Lynx took it as an invitation and invaded my space. His hands closed around my waist, pulling me into him.
"I love that you can," he murmured, "but I'd love to be the nigga doing it for you."
His lips brushed mine, and my heart betrayed me, fluttering.
"Who did you meet with?"
The fluttering stopped. Cocking a brow, I asked, "Why?"
"You told me your work is in Philly. Why is someone coming out here to meet with you?"
"Because I'm that fucking good."
