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I smiled at her attempt to lighten the moment. “He’s going to have an opinion, which is his right. What he’s not going to do is make you feel like you don’t belong there. That’s my word.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I mean, I’m not scared of rich old niggas, so if your daddy gets rude with me, just know I might curse him the fuck out.” She took a chip and scooped some guacamole.
“Aight, gangsta,” I laughed, putting up my hands. “You got it.”
She dipped another chip and chewed thoughtfully. “I have another question.”
I took a swig of my beer and nodded at her to go ahead.
“What do you do? For work.” She said before licking salt off the rim of her glass. “I know you’re wealthy and come from money, but what is it that you actually do?”
“Why you asking me this now?”
“Because I’m about to be in a room full of people who know all about you, and I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t,” she said. “It’s like walking into a conversation and not being in on the joke. You don’t have to give me a play-by-play. I’m just asking you to respect me enough not to bullshit me.”
Our waiter appeared at our table with our food. Belle gave him a polite smile and returned her gaze to me, waiting for an answer. I didn’t have to tell Belle anything. I could’ve given her the standard explanation about my businesses and kept it moving. But something was building between us, even though neither of us had said it out loud. I wanted to be honest with her.
“My family’s owned multiple businesses for a long time,” I replied. “My grandfather got into real estate, and my father grew it. I’m running it now. Some of it’s legitimate, like our buildings around the city, our restaurant supply company. And… some of it isn’t.”
She didn’t look surprised or nervous, not that I expected her to.
“The people at this charity gala—some of them are business partners, politicians we’ve donated to, and some are families that operate the same way mine does. It’s a room where everybody knows everybody’s business, but nobody talks about it because they’re all dirty in some way.”
“A room full of niggas who can just blackmail each other at any given time,” she said.
“Basically.”
“And you’re the Don Corleon of this shit?”
“You get that from watching mafia movies with your moms?” I laughed. “My pops technically still runs things, but I’ve taken on more over the past few years. He’s ready to retire and hand it over, but I need to get married first. Any other questions?”
“Would you answer them?”
“Depends on the question.”
She shook her head and cut another piece of her tamale. “I just needed to know the landscape.”
“And now that you do?”
“Now I gotta beg my hair stylist for a last minute appointment, since you don’t believe in giving people proper notice.”
16 LA’BELLE EVANS
I eyed the Stella McCartney dress hanging on the back of my closet door as I got ready. Between the dress, shoes, bag, and what he’d sent me for hair and makeup, it was almost ten grand for one night. No one I’d ever been with had gone the lengths he had. Even when they’d flown me out or broke me off with a little something for vacation, it was a few thousand dollars max.
This was something else entirely. I didn’t want to steal from him anymore. I enjoyed his company. And for the first time in nearly a decade, I wasn’t solely focused on money.
Okay, I liked him.
Admitting that made my stomach roll.
I was putting on my jewelry when my mother FaceTimed me.
“Well, well, well,” she said, eyes widening when I answered. “Where you off to looking all fancy?”
