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Beethoven waited until we were in the back seat of the car to ask, “Were you able to get some sleep?”
With a shrug, I looked out of the window. “For the most part. You?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have a particular taste for anything?”
“I’m not usually up this early, so I don’t really eat breakfast.”
On an average day, I would have gotten up and did a little reading then worked out and had a protein smoothie that would hold me over until lunch time.
“Why you ain’t say that?”
Chuckling, I finally looked over at him. He looked genuinely upset. “I figured you had a lot to do today, so I didn’t want to be difficult.”
“I do, but we could have pushed it back and did lunch or dinner.”
“Do you actually eat when you’re handling business, Beethoven?”
Him not replying right away was all the answer I needed. “That’s not the point.”
I chuckled, and he smiled.
“Waffle House is fine. I can at least eat some hashbrowns.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Aight, cool.” He told the driver to take us to the nearest Waffle House, which I appreciated.
Silence found us, which was fine with me.
When we arrived, it was Beethoven who opened the door for me. He did the same when we walked inside the restaurant. Instinctively, he put me on the right side of him as we passed a group of men, keeping me away from them. Little things like that made me feel more comfortable around him.
A waitress walked over to our table almost immediately. I didn’t mind her smile and googly eyes as she stared at Beethoven. He was a very handsome man. And he smelled good too. I loved the fresh scent of laundry. Nothing was better to me than cuddling up with a blanket fresh out of the dryer and inhaling that clean scent. That was what Beethoven smelled like, and I think the fresh and clean scent of his cologne was what made me hug him last night.
She took our drink order for coffee and orange juice. Beethoven knew what he wanted shortly after, and since I was only going to get hashbrowns and a side of sausage, I was ready when she came back. Less than fifteen minutes later, our food was coming out. Beethoven went ahead and paid her so we could have some privacy for our conversation.
But we didn’t need the privacy.
He got a phone call from his father that demanded his attention.
Three minutes later, a Sprinter was pulling up and parking next to the town car.
“I apologize but I have to go take care of some shit,” Beethoven said. “Stay and eat. Reggie will take you back to the apartment.”
“Oh, o-okay.”
With haste, Beethoven made his way out of the booth. He placed a quick kiss to my temple before jogging out of the restaurant and hopping into the Sprinter. Before the door closed, I saw glimpses of men in all black and masks.
The sight made me shiver.
For a while, I forgot who these men were. Regardless of how nice Beethoven was, he was the heir to a drug organization. I didn’t know of his reputation, but he was probably just as dangerous as his father was. That truth didn’t make me feel as if I was in danger with Beethoven. If anything, it made me feel safer.
10
Beethoven
