Page 8 of The Don’s Virgin Obsession

I let a few seconds pass before I answered. “About which part?”

I watched her face as she tried to find the safest response. It was one of my favorite parts of talking to women. Not humiliating them. Just letting silence do what it always did. Pull the truth out by the ankle.

She laughed again, softer this time. “I mean, the auditions part.”

“Applications are already rolling in.”

“Oh, my God.” She covered her mouth. “You are not serious.”

“I’m grown, miss lady. I own too much to keep playing in women’s faces and letting them play in mine. Sounds serious to me.”

She touched her hair. “So what are you looking for then?”

I reached for my glass and looked past her shoulder.

That was when I saw Sade.

I had known she was here before I ever sat down. Her reservation hit the board an hour earlier. Bennett. Two guests. Booth seating. I always knew when she was on that damn dating site. My cousin owned it. I paid her to break the rules.

She was seated three sections over, facing the room. Long brown hair curled. Posture straight. Black dress, simple, lying on her curvy body, expensive diamonds. She wasn’t trying to be seen. That was part of what made men keep seeing her anyway.

The man across from her was talking too much. I even caught her secretly yawn, trying to act like the nigga wasn’t boring.

I looked back at Camille.

“What I’m looking for,” I said, “usually minds her business.”

She laughed too loudly. “So not me?”

I gave her a dry look. “You said it.”

She hit my arm lightly, playing cute, and I let my eyes drift back toward Sade for half a second.

Same calm face.

Same measured way of listening.

Same untouched energy she used to walk around with when she was younger, moving through Los Angeles as if none of it could get on her if she didn’t let it.

Most women changed in the land.

That was the point of the city.

It sold reinvention to people too weak to stay who they were.

Sade had never seemed interested.

Camille was still talking. I caught the end of a sentence about Cabo and some designer I did not care about.

I gave her just enough attention to keep the night moving.

“What do you do again?” I asked out of the blue.

She straightened. “I do luxury brand consulting.”

“For who?”

“A few people.”