Page 9 of Cause When You Love Someone

“I hurt myself, healing seemed like it would never happen, then I became an afterthought in the industry. The rest is history.”

“From the videos I watched, you were pretty good. Reminded me of Cecily Tank.”

Shock pried my lips apart. “Wait. What do you know about classical dancers?”

“Growing up, our cable was always off, so I read a lot. I had an obsession with Gio Flight’s books.”

I dressed the back of his low taper with a skeptical gaze. “Didn’t he write about gangstas and pimps?”

“Amongst other things. In his older work, he talked about how smooth Cecily Tank’s moves were, which led to me looking her up.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. Having the opportunity to learn is a privilege. I just take advantage of it.”

I tucked my feet under my butt, asking, “Have you ever been to a ballet?”

“It’s on my bucket list.”

I couldn’t pinpoint why, but hearing the passive protector mention a bucket list softened my heart. Most men I interacted with operated like they had it all together. They moved like the only thing to gain in the world was a dollar. It didn’t take much to observe that Ishmael had more integrity.

“A renaissance man,” I murmured. “Do you plan to do this for the rest of your life?”

“Do what? Work as a bodyguard? Hell no.”

“You plan on leaving me already?” I quizzed. I didn’t realize how desperate my question sounded until it was met with silence. “I didn’t mean for that to sound like such a cry for help.”

“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help. Just make sure you’re available to receive it.” He paused. “If that man puts his hands on you again, you won’t have to ask me to solve your problem.”

“Wha-what?”

“I know it’s not easy to walk away, but don’t cover for a coward, Clarke. That makes you complacent.” His eyes shifted to the rearview mirror. “If you don’t know no better, I’ll teach you.”

Uneasy, I closed my eyes since I was unable to maintain a confident front. I didn’t know how to respond to someone forcing me to put myself on a pedestal.

Without thinking, I pulled my phone from my bag and called Sage.

“Hey, love. Do me a favor. Call T-Mobile and have them change my number, please.”

“Mm. Are you sure? There are a lot of?—”

“Sage!” I interrupted his rambling. “Just do what I asked. Please. I want you to change my number. Don’t give it to anyone.”

“What about your mama?”

“I’ll make sure she has a way to get in contact with me. Thank you.”

Ishmael’s back was to me, but I could see his cheekbones reach for the roof of the truck when he moved in the front seat.

“I didn’t do that because of you, Ishmael.”

He chuckled. “I hope not.”

Instead of trying to convince the cocky man that his words held no weight in my world, I scheduled a delivery from my favorite Thai spot.

By the time I looked up, I saw Ishmael was pulling into the extra parking spot I paid for.

“I’m going to walk you upstairs. I’ll get a ride home once I know everything is . . . quiet.”

I opened my mouth to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but I knew it would fall on deaf ears. Despite only being in each other’s company for a little over a week, I knew Ishmael would do as he pleased if he felt it ensured my safety.

The journey up to my place was quiet, apart from my heart ringing in my ears. Ishmael didn’t appear troubled by the silence, though I couldn’t stop shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

“You shouldn’t have to stay long,” I announced. “I’m sure the doorman would’ve told me if Chaz showed up.”

Ishmael stepped past me as soon as I unlocked the door. The warm scent of cinnamon and a trail of clothes met us in the front of my home like a doormat. No matter how much I kept a clean house, I couldn’t care less when I had to find something to wear.

“Hm. Sorry about the mess,” I called out before he disappeared down the hallway. “I’m not usually this messy. Most days, my place is put together. I know it doesn’t look like that now, but I was in a rush to leave.”

An amused expression seized his face when he joined me in the living room. “You’re rambling.”

“I was explaining.”

He nodded while relaxing in my favorite seat in my house. Arranged in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, the spot offered a spellbinding view of Silk Hills.

“How long are you staying?”

“Not long,” he replied, though his focus was attached to his phone.

His lackluster response drove me to rush out of sight.

So accustomed to people being at my beck and call, I second guessed myself when in the company of a man who paid me no mind.

Granted, I appreciated his professionalism, but I thought our short moment at the photoshoot meant he had passed treating me like an annoying little sister.

On weary legs, I went into my beauty room and closed my door. As I struggled to take off my leather top, tears layered my vision. I was overstimulated and overwhelmed with my racing thoughts.

“Ugh!” Dramatically, I threw my body back on the bed, yet a soft knock at the door caused me to sit up. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“No—yes.” I stopped before I started rambling again. “Can you help me?”

The door crept open, and Ishmael occupied the space.

“What can I help you with, Clarke?”

“My top. The zipper on my top,” I clarified.

Like a bee to a fresh sunflower, Ishmael’s long legs swallowed the distance between us while I abandoned the bed and gave him my back.

“Move your hair,” he muttered in a voice that piloted goosebumps to my skin. “Why are you shaking?”

My breath got caught in my throat when I felt his longer fingers dance across my back. “I don’t know.”

“You do know. Are you scared?”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The moment of silence was interrupted when Ishmael guided my zipper down my spine.

“Happy you know it,” he declared before leaving me alone.

The absence of his hands on me made my skin yell for one more stroke. It had been a long time since a man’s touch gave me goosebumps, and even longer since I wished a man would try his luck.

Any other night, it would take at least an hour to complete my nighttime routine; however, the idea of Ishmael being in my house led me to change clothes then join him in the front room.

“Nigga! I sent you the address thirty minutes ago. Hurry yo ass up!” I heard Ishmael say to someone on his phone.

“Whoa! The bodyguard has some hood in him,” I kidded as I entered the open-faced kitchen.

“I’ve never pretended to be from somewhere I’m not.”

“So, where are you from?” He grinned instead of answering. “Does everything have to be a mystery?”

“No, but everything isn’t for everyone to know. Telling folks your business can be dangerous.”

“Oh. Who’s scared now?”

He leaned against the island that kept us apart. “I’m from here. I grew up in the Paradise Projects.”

“I’ve been there a few times.”

He reached for his glasses. “For what?”

“You know good girls like bad guys.” I lifted a bottle of wine that was on the counter. “Would you like a glass?”

“I don’t drink while on the job.”

“I respect that. Do you eat on the job?”

Our eyes locked when the sexual innuendo hit the air. Unsure of how we went from frowning at each other to subtly fawning, I stroked my lips with my tongue to satisfy the craving to have something in my mouth.

“I appreciate you offering to feed me, but my ride almost here.”

My lower lip shot out. “Damn. You’re trying to get away from me already?”

“I don’t mean any disrespect. I just … It’s for the best.”

“Why?” I asked, pressing my luck.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You should appreciate me asking questions rather than making up rumors or moving off of assumptions.”

“I suppose.” He nodded as he relaxed on a barstool. “Go ahead. Ask what you want to know.”

“Well, I know you’re twenty-nine. Do you have children?”

“No.”

“That’s unheard of nowadays.”

“It is, but I don’t have any interest in having a baby with a woman who isn’t my wife.”

Shock drove my back against the sink. “That’s refreshing to hear. Does your girlfriend have a problem with you working with me?”

Again, Ishmael grinned while shaking his head. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

He stared me dead in my eyes while saying, “Because I don’t settle for less.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“I’m not looking for perfect, but I’m looking for more than women I’ve dated are willing to give.”

When I reached for a paper towel, I nearly knocked over one of the many vases littering my home.

“All these damn flowers.” I grunted.

“A woman that doesn’t like flowers. That’s different.”

“It’s a shock to you, but it shouldn’t be a shock to Chaz. After all these years, he still can’t remember I prefer candy over flowers any day.”

Ishmael rubbed his hand over his fresh cut as he shook his head.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I damn near begged.

“I’m sure you have enough people showering you with their opinions. You don’t need the people in your personal space to follow the trend.”

A knock at the door intruded on our exchange.

“Do you want me to answer it?” he asked, already headed toward the door.

“Yes, please.”

I washed my hands while Ishmael went to get my food, and when he returned, there were two bags in his hands and a studious expression on his handsome face.

“Don’t judge me,” I grumbled. “I don’t film until next month. Plus, my mom isn’t around to call me fat. Let me live.”

“I didn’t say anything. I love to see a woman enjoy a meal after a long day. You earned it.”

“I’d like you to tell Mrs. Rose that.”

“You’re a big girl. God didn’t bless you with pretty lips for nothing. Open your mouth and tell people what’s on your mind.”

I could feel my brow curve in surprise at his choice of words. “Okay. I want you to have dinner with me.” I followed up and pushed a take-out plate over to Ishmael.

His dimples made an appearance before his words.

“When I said I had to go, I wasn’t just talking.”

His rejection caused me to shrink a few inches, although I tried to hide it by bouncing on my tippy toes.

“It’s cool. Maybe next time,” I declared.

Ishmael gave me his back as he slid his jacket on. “Come lock up.”

Like a sad puppy, I followed him to the door with my hands behind my back.

“The schedule shows a club appearance Friday,” Ishmael commented. “I’ll see you then.”

“Yep.”

Once he stepped out the door, I expected him to rush to the elevator, but instead, my hired protection stalled a bit.

He placed a hand on the doorframe and studied me.

He didn’t wear his thoughts on his face, but his narrowed eyes smiled more than they ever had when I was in his line of vision.

I couldn’t tell if it was lust or pity, but the aura of disgust was no longer present.

“Dinner. Next time,” he said before walking off.

A second after I locked my front door, I swung at the air. I didn’t expect Ishmael to spend the night, but I liked having him around. Though his presence was humbling, I enjoyed picking his brain.

Once I finally claimed a seat with a plate of food in hand, I spotted a set of keys on my living room table.

I guess he’ll have to return sooner rather than later, I thought to myself before taking a few pictures of my plate.

I scrolled through Instagram as I ate, and soon, I started to wonder if Ishmael was on social media.

He seemed like the type to only post once a year and never put anything intimate online.

My pestering assumptions drove me to type his name into the search bar, but a knock at my door put my investigation on pause.

In a hurry, I cleaned my mouth with a napkin, then skipped to the front of my house with Ishmael’s keyring dangling from my finger

“Next time came quick,” I teased before I had the door all the way open. However, my lively energy morphed into repulsion within seconds. “Chaz, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to get my things, like you said. I’m not giving up on us, but I need my shit.”

Before Chaz could continue his speech, Ishmael stepped off the elevator. His loose limbs turned rigid when he recognized I wasn’t alone.

“My keys?”

“I was waiting on you,” I replied after tossing them into his palm.

“Do we have a problem?” he asked with a pointed brow.

“Like you said, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”