Page 29

. . .

“Go to the meeting for me. It’s time I let you do more.

You’re ready, Niah. Calm down, you got this.

Besides, you’ve been trained by the best. Take a lot of notes—don’t leave a detail out.

” Aku balanced the phone between her cheek and pillow, whisper-yelling to keep from waking the heavy sleeper beside her.

“Aku,” Niah whined. “Why you just throw this on me last minute? They’re expecting you.”

“And they’re getting me. You are me. You got this, I promise it ain’t so bad. Do what you think I’d do and close the deal.”

“Ugh…okay. But please don’t throw me to the sharks like this again. I need time to pray about it.”

“Niah!” Aku’s voice rose a few octaves. “This is the job. Sometimes you go into things unprepared. This is what separates the stylists from the assistants. Bye.” She hung up, not wanting to go back and forth with Niah all morning.

She was still a little groggy from last night, her head still heavy with the smell of cologne, liquor, and Malik’s skin.

When they got home last night, she willed herself not to give Malik any pussy.

He was on punishment—still—because she had to set that tone.

He needed to understand she wasn’t one of them.

She was the daughter of French and Solar, and they raised a boss .

One who knew the difference between love bombing and consistency… between sweet talk and soft action.

Malik was still laid out in her bed, deep in sleep like he had nothing to run from today.

One arm flung over the pillow she normally hugged.

His braids were fuzzy at the edges now, his mouth slightly open, a low snore escaping from the depths of his chest. He looked younger when he slept.

Gentler. Not like the nigga who would swing on someone for getting too close to her, or who walked around with fire in his stomach and ghosts in his blood.

Lashes were ridiculous on a man that hood.

A tiny smile tugged at her mouth. He was fine when he was vexed, but sleeping? Dangerously pretty.

She climbed onto the bed and straddled his back softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He stirred, groaning.

“Wake up,” she whispered into his ear, dragging her nails down his spine.

He squinted with a sleepy grin. “You tryna start something?”

“I’m tryna ask if you hungry.”

His grin widened. “You cookin’?”

“I mean…” She rolled her eyes and flopped beside him. “Breakfast ain’t hard.”

He turned his head, fully awake now. “You sure? I feel like you be Door Dashing your bacon.”

Aku grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. “First of all, don’t disrespect me like that. Second of all, I keep turkey sausage and eggs in my fridge. That counts.”

“I ain’t heard nothin’ about pancakes. So, I’m already judging.”

“You gon’ eat what I make or starve - your choice.”

He chuckled, turning on his side to face her. They stared at each other for a moment, comfortable in the kind of quiet that said we like being here, in this space, right now. The way the sun lit up her skin, made her look like she belonged in his dreams. Maybe she already did.

“You always wake up fine?” he asked, voice low and gravelly.

“I always wake up irritated,” she deadpanned. “Mostly cause my assistant swear she’s not ready but wanna be a boss so bad.”

He laughed. “She’ll figure it out…you did.”

“I’m built different though,” she said, smirking.

Malik nodded slowly. “I can tell.”

There was a stretch of silence. Not awkward. Just…breathing space.

Then, like the words had been sitting in his chest all night, he said it. “I wanna take you on a date.”

Aku just stared.

He said it again, firmer this time. “I wanna take you out. Like…for real - just me and you. Somewhere that ain’t dark with loud music and niggas tryna shoot their shot.”

Her fingers fiddled with the edge of the sheet. She tucked her sleek hair behind her ear. “I mean…we don’t have to go nowhere fancy.”

He studied her, really saw her as if he was just now recognizing how much space she’d started to take up in his spirit.

She was there every time he blinked too long.

Ever since she stumbled into Crescent—fine as hell, out of place, loud and wild in the middle of a hood that wasn’t made for women like her…

Malik ain’t been the same since. She scared him because she moved like she didn’t know danger lived in the cracks of the sidewalks.

Like the sirens didn’t mean anything and the blue rags couldn’t touch her.

“I ain’t broke, Aku,” he said with his face stone. “I can afford to take you out.”

Her lips parted like she was about to speak, but she stopped herself. “I didn’t mean it like that—” she started.

“I know,” he cut her off. “It’s cool. I know you sit high, but make no mistake - if a nigga wanna take you out, he gon’ take you to the fancy places.

Not ‘cause he tryna flex, but ‘cause you deserve that.” He reached out, thumb brushing under her chin, gently lifting it. “Don’t ever lower your expectations for me.”

How was she not supposed to fall in love with a man who talked to her like that? Like her presence was power. Like she was luxury not just a pretty face with a slick mouth.

Damn. She needed her bitch, needed the group chat, needed to scream at Noodle through a voice note and tell her this one felt different …this one felt real. Tangible – like something she could hold without it falling apart in her hands.

But instead of saying any of that, she leaned forward and kissed him.

Pulling back her lips curled. “Okay, but if we’re being real… I’m still not making no pancakes.”

Malik laughed, and something about the way his head dropped back and his abs flexed under the sheets made her stomach twist.

“Say less,” he said, finally standing and stretching, tattoos shifting across his chest. “I’ll cook.”

She raised a brow. “You cook?”

“I do everything , Dorothy.”

She bit her lip. “Yeah…I bet you do.”

Twenty minutes later the smell of butter and cinnamon started creeping down the hall.

Malik followed it, bare chested, jeans slung low, socks still blessedly clean.

He leaned against the island watching her flip French-toast sticks in the skillet.

“That blue dress,” he said, chin tilted playfully. “Kinda miss it.”

“You better not,” she shot back. “Blue is your color, not mine.”

“Everything on you is my color.” He stole a piece off her plate. She slapped his hand.

“You grew up with siblings?” Aku asked, cracking another egg.

“Only child, but Crescent Park taught me how to snatch what I want.”

She arched a brow. “Stealing bread off a hot skillet is hardly thug behavior.”

He shrugged. “Practice.” Then he added, “I ever tell you my favorite cereal was whatever my Granny hid on top of the fridge? Stealin’ it made shit sweeter.”

She laughed, there was truth hiding in that throwaway line. “I was the kid with two bowls of everything. Mama stayed trying to fatten us up.”

He watched her hands whisk. “Silver-spoon shorty.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, not angry but more of a warning. “I was raised right, not spoiled sour.”

“Noted.” He leaned closer. She smelled like vanilla extract and lavender. “Tell me something else regular about you.”

She thought for a few seconds. “I sleep with a light on, had night terrors after an earthquake when I was ten. You?”

“I count steps,” he revealed another beautiful piece of his mind. “Like stairs, always know the number…keeps my brain busy.”

She paused, surprised by the softness. “What’s my staircase count then?”

“You got an elevator, but 210 up to the loft and 241 down to the garage.”

Aku spun around, her hands touching his lips. “Your mind is beautiful.”

“Watch out,” he laughed, blushing hard. “Hurry up with the food,” he laughed when he dodged her slap.

It didn’t take Aku much longer. She had the food plated and went against her rules by eating in the living room on her favorite couch.

“About this date…Where would you take me then? Hypothetically.” Aku chewed her food.

“Aquarium, late night tour,” he said without hesitation nodding his head at his own idea. “That shit sound hella fire.”

Aku tossed her head back with an eye roll.

“Then dinner at that rooftop tapas down the street. After that, Crescent Park by midnight—show you where I played ball till the cops shut the court lights off.”

“That’s three dates in one night.”

“Time moves funny around you,” he said, swallowing the last bit of eggs. “I don’t wanna waste it.”

“Finish your plate, philosopher,” she said, collecting dishes. “I got two fittings this afternoon. You have codes to write or corners to monitor?”

“Neither,” he said, stretching those broad shoulders. “App’s stable. Ops been quiet. I’m free.”

She licked her lips, mind racing with possibilities that had nothing to do with fittings. “Wanna tag along? Clients love eye candy with a mysterious past.”

He grinned slow. “Long as mysterious don’t end with a mugshot.”

“Can’t promise.” She was already texting Niah: Make sure Valentino sends their pieces .

He slid behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.

“I’m serious about that date,” he murmured against her neck.

“When?”

“Tonight,” he said, kissing the spot below her ear—nothing rushed. “I’m done leaving notes. Promise…I’m trying to show up like you told me too.”

She let her eyes close, his breath settle over her skin. Yeah…punishment officially lifted. “Malik,” she whined his name airily, extending her neck so he could take more.

The warmth and wetness of his tongue created a trail of goosebumps across her skin. “I’m trying to one up them niggas in your DMs trying to trick on you.”

Aku laughed. “Them niggas still don’t have the taste of my pussy on their lips.”

Malik kissed her earlobe, then the corner of her lips. “Mine wearing off. I need to reapply it.”

Head falling back into him, Aku cackled loud. “You’re barely off pussy punishment. Make this date real nice and I’ll give you head while you drive.”

“On the dead homies?”