Page 32 of The Don’s Virgin Obsession

Vaughn: Whatever you want. You’re worth it… See you tomorrow.

And that was that.

Sade

“I came for business… he made it something else.”

Ipulled up to the address Vaughn sent me. I looked at the building sign that read “Crown Heights.” My memory started coming to me then. Vaughn was no stranger who invaded my friend circle. We had grown up in Compton together, but had different paths. I thought he was doing a good thing for the city by opening low-income housing for families. Usually, men in our neighborhoods never cared about where they came from. Vaughn did. I’d give him points for that.

I parked, stepped out, and looked around. The three buildings looked like they belonged on the Santa Monica strip by the beach.

I grabbed my laptop bag and iPad before stepping out of the car. As I walked up the pathway, Vaughn walked out, dressed in somewhat business-casual attire. Regular dark jeans, a collared shirt, expensive-looking dress shoes, and sunglasses. He was real clean cut. No jewelry, and a hard hat on. He smiled a generous smile, holding an extra hard hat.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Bennett. You’re on time, most aren’t,” he said, holding out his hand. I shook it.

“My team and I are always on time,” I said with confidence, because we were.

“That’s a good trait.” He handed me the extra hard hat. “Put that on, though. Don’t want nothing dropping on that big head.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Ain’t got no big head, but let’s get to work.”

He smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

I put the hat on, and we went inside.

He started showing me around as soon as we stepped inside, and I had to admit the place was beautiful. Workers moved fast out of our way as he walked me through a few units. He talked and told me what he needed, and I wrote everything down in my iPad.

I must’ve been too quiet because he stopped and turned to me.

“You know I’m not trying to hire you to take orders. I’m hiring you to make decisions,” he told me.

“I understand. I’m not taking it in before I put my two cents in,” I told him truthfully. “I’d love to hear your input so far, though.”

Before I could respond, a Mexican man came up, paint on his clothes and hands, looking slightly frantic.

“May I help you?” Vaughn asked him, his eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry to disturb you again, but the electrical wires in unit 278 keep stalling, and I know you want that unit done right away for your cousin.”

Vaughn glared at him. “Fix it. No more questions. No more interruptions.”

“Yes, sir.” The man walked off quickly.

“Now what were you saying?” He gave me his full attention.

“I was saying a lot of the lighting is off. The colors are dull, and I don’t think carpet is good for families with children.”

“I’ll get it done. We can rip up the carpet and order new lighting,” he said, like it was an easy task.

“Okay, let’s look at a couple more units, and then I’ll be ready to talk business.”

He nodded. We went down the elevator, and he took me to a smaller unit, a single apartment. His phone started ringing.

“Give me a moment,” he said, sounding a bit aggravated.

“Take your time. I’m going to look around. I love building up small spaces.”

He nodded and walked off. As I walked around, I could hear him on the phone, loud, arrogant. Not speaking in the tone he used with me.