"Thank you." Sia glanced back at me momentarily, our eyes drowning in each other's before hers pulled away. "I won't be long, I just have to put my shoes on and finish my hair."
"Take all the time you need, love, you good. I'll be in the living room," I spoke.
"Okay," she called out.
I slid my phone into my pocket and stepped farther into the living room. Like before, my eyes wandered over everything around me, taking in the details. A white bookshelf decorated with gold-and-white abstract-pieces immediately caught my attention.
Sitting front and center in a gold-frame was a degree with Sia's name printed across it. Around it were several framed photos—some of her and Nya, others of people I assumed were family. What really stood out to me were the two frames positioned on either side of her degree. One simply read Mom, while the other read Dad.
I found myself staring a little longer than I intended, studying the faces in the photographs and wondering about the people who helped shape the woman I'd been driving myself crazy over. I was so caught up in it that I didn't even realize Sia had called my name.
It wasn't until she said it again, louder this time, that I finally snapped out of my thoughts and looked her way.
She was looking pretty as fuck, leaning against the door-frame, with one foot draped across the other. Her hair was in curls—layers framing her face. Clung on her wrist was a gold Cartier bracelet. I wasn't near her but I could smell that Jimmy Choo, I Want Choo perfume radiating from her and wafting through the room.
"I'm ready."
I gave her a head nod, because I couldn't find my voice. I was enamored by her beauty, and thoughts of doing all type of freaky shit was running rapid through my mind.
After locking her front door, we were met with thick smog floating through the night sky. Her heels clicked against the concrete.
"My neighbor had already let me know that someone was walking towards my house," she mentioned, causing me to glance her way, noticing the smirk on her face, as we walked down the sidewalk towards my truck.
"I figured neighborhood-watch was close by, snitching-ass," I grinned.
"I'd rather have it no other way."
"I'm just fuckin' wit' you, love."
I'd already unlocked my truck and helped her inside then closed her door. I said a silent prayer to God that this night would go smoothly, and I wouldn't have to put my foot up her ass.
Chapter Nine
SIA
Islid into the passenger seat of Dose's F-450 and buckled my seatbelt before letting my eyes wander around the truck. I glanced over my shoulder, searching for anything that might tell a story—a car seat, a pair of panties shoved beneath a seat, the faint trace of another woman's perfume lingering in the air, a forgotten lip gloss in the cup holder, or even a stray lash stuck somewhere. Anything. But the cab was spotless. Still, I kept looking, damn near hoping to find a reason to call him out on some bullshit.
When he entered the car, the smell of Black-Ice car freshener, mixed with his cologne wafted throughout the car when the air brushed past my face.
I can't lie and say that Dose wasn't fine as hell and dressed to the nines as if he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life. The tailored Armani suit looked good on him. The black-and-white Dior loafers fit everything perfectly, coordinating with his style. I didn't miss the iced-out Audemars Piguet on his wrist and the iced-out necklace around his neck.
The last thing I was expecting was for him to pop out, even after sending him through so many hoops to jump through. Personally, I was looking for him to fuck up, because that's whatI'm used to. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I don't go into anything heart first. I expect niggas to do exactly what they're born to do and not whispered promises. I've been on this earth long enough not to fall for the fuck shit and get gullible.
This night would be simple—I'm going to give him what he wants—talks over dinner, and that's it. I'm not sleeping with him and I'm not going back to his house.
"Whatchu' ova' there thinkin' 'bout?" He asked me, his deep baritone slicing between my thick thoughts, knocking me out of a trance. Momentarily, as he drove, he'd glance at me then back at the road. Slow Jamz by Chris Brown featuring Lucky Daye was boosting lowly through his truck.
"Huh," I glanced over at him to see his brown orbs piercing through mine.
"You cold?"
Reaching over, he touched my thigh, sending shivers up my spine like a rush.
"No, I-I'm okay," I stammered. "I'm good," I retorted after clearing my throat.
"You ova there lookin' like you in a daze. You're safe wit' me, Sia. You can trust me."
"Hmph," I screwed up my face. "I'll never trust a nigga."
