Page 27 of The Need to Know

Cesar sat back, brows raised, fascinated. “That’s one way to get in.”

As gorgeous as she was, my interests were purely business. “Nah, we’re about to do business together and I respect her too much to mix it.”

To keep things in order, I categorized the women I met. Not to be chauvinistic, but this system kept things on track and my head clear. It would be unprofessional and a breach of power otherwise to seek anything sexual with Paisley.

There was my sex life, my business life, and my friends and family time. When it came to Cesar and Pops, the friends and family mixed with the business aspect of things, but we still managed to run a tight ship. I didn’t mix friends with sex, and I didn’t mix business with sex. And Paisley P, fine or not, was a dream business relationship I wouldn’t taint over lust.

“I mean, I’m just sayin’, you blew it with the friend,” Cesar observed.

I felt my forehead crease as I sat up. “I blew it?”

Cesar gestured around us. “You never spend your birthday alone, yet you here schoolin’ us in poker. She left with Paisley, and I don’t see you in no rush to get up out of here.”

Nastasia.

My mind drifted back to earlier, when I’d been alone with her up in the Spade Suite, just enjoying her vibe and chilling.

When I first stepped foot into the Diamond Suite with Remy and Galen, my instinct told me to look around to see if she’d shown up. And thank God, she had. She’d come out looking like she belonged with me. She had those big, silky curls pinned back on one side. And her outfit—that, I liked the most—black and classy as she wore a lace bustier top and black pants.

She had the prettiest face: sweet, pure, and doe-eyed, as if she were soft and sheltered. I was curious, deeply curious, to see what she looked like when she was being bad.

I thought of that Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers song my parents used to play.

“She was a good girl,” I pointed out as I grabbed my beer and took a drink.

Cesar snorted. “Good girls can’t get no dick, Eaze?”

I chuckled. When I was with her, I could see the want in her eyes, but I could also feel and see her hesitation. Her wavering on the idea of going to bed with me. I made her nervous, but I affected her too. It wouldn’t have taken much to convince her, I was sure, but it was in that fact that I didn’t press.

I could read her type. It was the way she smiled. The way she blushed. The way she shrank and crossed her legs when I made her wet. The way she bit her lip and kept her gaze away from me. The way she thought of herself as boring because we were talking movies instead of what time she wanted me to meet her at her place.

She was fragile, the kind of woman you handled with care. Even if she’d given herself a pep talk into letting me fuck, it wouldn’t have been right.

“She would’ve regretted it,” I said.

Cesar considered this and let it go. “Damn.”

I grabbed all of the cards from the center of the table and shuffled them together, thinking it all over. “It would’ve felt like taking advantage of her, but I did give her my number.” It was all about chance. Gambling. Risk. I split the deck and laid out a line of cards on the table facedown and ran my fingers along them. “Now, under different circumstances, if the opportunity presents itself again, neither of us will look back and feel bad.” I took a chance and grabbed a card from the middle of the line and revealed its face.

The King of Hearts.

In the morning, I fed Sadé, checked my phone, and got dressed. It was a new day, and I was over the disappointment with Pops’s decision not to give me BLVCKJVCK.

To bury the hatchet, I got into my ride and drove over to my parents’ crib. The first message I’d read that morning was from Pops telling me I was having breakfast with them. The demand let me know loud and clear he was pissed with my disappearing act the previous evening. He knew I wasn’t in danger or harmed, or else he would’ve bothered coming by the club or calling to make sure things were all right. Instead, he knew I was being a dick.

“Ezekiel, there you are!” My mother greeted me by grabbing my face and kissing both my cheeks. I was almost thirty, but she would still douse me with affection any chance she got. One remarkable thing about my childhood, was that I was raised on love and it never ceased.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it last night, something came up,” I explained as she let me in the door.

I could already smell something good and meaty cooking in the kitchen.

She patted my cheek, shooting me a look. “Mm-hmm, your father’s out on the patio. Make that right.”

Their dog, or, our dog, a ten-year-old Golden Retriever named Brasco, came trotting up to me with his tongue out. I petted his head, always happy to see him. Another reason I got Sadé and not that Border Collie I’d initially driven out to Atlanta to look into was because I was loyal to having Brasco be the only dog in my life. I’d brought Sadé over to my parents’ house a few times and she loved him at first sight. I had a feeling she wouldn’t accept a new dog either.

I passed through the kitchen, spotting my mother whipping up some eggs and heating up some steak. I’d definitely fucked-up by missing out on a steak dinner with the folks.

Out on the patio, Pops was behind the morning paper, reading the Community section as he babysat a glass of sweet tea. On my arrival, he lowered the paper, glowered at me, and soon set it aside entirely.