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The tension in the office, the whispers, the glances, speculation carried over to the next morning.

Krys had been doing her best to keep her composure, to ignore the way Kenyatta made everything feel like a game; one where she refused to lose, but somehow, she was always playing.

Krys had been in her office, skimming through emails, sipping coffee, trying to keep her head clear, when a loud commotion erupted down the hall.

Not angry, but heated. And at the center of it was Kenyatta.

She exhaled sharply, setting her coffee down before pushing her chair back. Heels clicking against the polished floor, she strode toward the noise, her presence alone enough to have a few employees quickly getting back to work.

As she turned the corner, she saw Terry, Reese, and a few others standing near Kenyatta’s desk.

He was leaned back, that damn lazy smirk on his face, completely unfazed as the office buzzed around him.

“All I’m saying is,” Terry said, arms crossed, clearly enjoying this too much, “if you supposed to be the boss’s right-hand, we need details. This came out of nowhere.”

Reese nodded, arms folded. “Yeah, you pop up outta nowhere, and next thing we know, you sitting in on meetings? What’s the deal, bro?”

Kenyatta sat back even further, the picture of pure amusement. “Y’all real invested in my business.”

Terry shrugged. “Krys don’t usually mix business and pleasure, that’s all I’m saying.”

A few low snickers.

Krys felt her jaw clench just as Kenyatta’s smirk widened.

“That mean you think I’m pleasurable?”

Terry choked on his water. “I ain’t said all that.”

The office erupted into laughter.

Enough.

“What’s going on?” Krys’ voice sliced through the noise, and the entire group went silent.

Terry straightened immediately. “Nothing. Just getting to know the new guy.”

Krys’ gaze flicked to Kenyatta, who was way too entertained.

“Y’all don’t have work to do?” she asked smoothly, arching a single brow.

Murmurs of “yes, ma’am” rippled through the office as everyone scattered, except for Kenyatta. He stayed seated. Still smirking.

Krys exhaled slowly, arms crossed. “You enjoying yourself?”

Kenyatta chuckled, resting his forearms on the desk. “You mad ‘cause they nosy, or ‘cause they right?”

Her stomach tightened, but she didn’t let it show. “You work for me, Kenyatta. Not with me.”

His gaze flickered with something unreadable before he leaned back, nodding. “That right?”

“That’s right.”

Kenyatta studied her, like he was deciding something. Then, he grinned. “Damn. Thought I had that promotion already.”

Krys rolled her eyes, already turning away. She was done with this conversation.

She had barely been back in her office ten minutes when her phone rang. She answered smoothly. “This is Krysta Davis.”

A firm, no-nonsense voice responded. “Ms. Davis, this is Officer Marshall. I’m calling to verify the employment of Kenyatta Hayes.”

Krys didn’t hesitate.

“Yes, Mr. Hayes is employed at my company.”

Marshall hummed. “I see. And you’re aware of his status?”

“I am.”

The officer paused. “And you’re comfortable with this hire?”

Krys leaned back in her chair, voice cool and steady.

“I wouldn’t have hired him if I wasn’t,” she said. “Mr. Hayes is in good hands. I believe he’ll be a great addition to my company.”

Another pause.

Then, “Alright. That’s all I needed.”

Krys hung up, exhaling slowly.

**********

Kenyatta was sorting through paperwork at his desk when Krys walked up.

He glanced up, sensing her energy immediately. “What’s up, Boss?”

Krys crossed her arms. “Just got a call from your parole officer.”

Kenyatta froze for half a second. Then he sighed, rubbing his chin. “A’ight. How bad was it?”

Krys shook her head. “It went fine. Told them you were in good hands.”

Kenyatta arched a brow. “Oh?”

She held his gaze. “That is what you are, right?”

He chuckled, sitting back. “You tell me.”

Krys ignored that, staying on task. “You’ll need to submit all your documents to Sasha so she can officially put you on payroll.”

Kenyatta nodded. “Bet.”

Then, he leaned forward slightly, grinning. “So, what’s my pay looking like?”

Krys lifted her tablet, tapped a few things, then handed it to him.

Kenyatta glanced at the number. Then froze. His brow lifted slightly. “You serious?”

Krys gave a cocky, controlled smile. “That’s more than you expected?”

Kenyatta let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Hell yeah.”

She leaned in slightly, voice smooth. “Then I expect you to dress accordingly.”

Kenyatta blinked. “What?”

Krys gave him a slow once-over. She was digging the polo he sported the day before but this day he sported a black tee, well-worn jeans, and fresh sneakers. Clean, but casual. “The hoodies and sweatpants gotta go. You’re salaried now. You need to start dressing the part. You can’t be walking around looking like you about to post up outside the corner store.”

Kenyatta smirked. “Ain’t nothing wrong with how I dress.”

Krys tilted her head slightly. “Not if you work somewhere that don’t require more. But here? You gotta look the part if you wanna be taken seriously.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Man, I fix shit. Ain’t nobody checking for how I dress.”

Krys narrowed her eyes. “Oh, but they are.” She uncrossed her arms, standing up straight, voice dropping into CEO mode. “You’re not just here to unclog toilets and patch drywall. I don’t hire basic maintenance men.”

Kenyatta raised a brow at that. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She stepped closer, heels clicking against the polished floors. “This ain’t just some apartment complex job. You’re stepping into my world, Yatta. A world where people judge you before you even open your mouth. And since you represent me, your presence matters.”

Kenyatta studied her, his smirk fading into something unreadable.

Krys pressed forward, voice steady. “You ever notice how I carry myself? The way I dress, how I move, how I speak?” She gestured around the office, the epitome of success and control. “People respect me before I even introduce myself because I demand it. Because I look the part.”

Kenyatta exhaled through his nose, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. She had a point. He’d noticed it from the jump, the way people reacted when she entered a room, the instant shift in energy.

Krys wasn’t just playing boss. She was the boss. And now she wanted him to match that.

“Damn.” He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “You tryna turn me into one of them suit-and-tie niggas?”

Krys lifted a brow. “Relax. I ain’t asking you to walk in here looking like you about to close a real estate deal. Just clean it up. Upgrade.”

Kenyatta rubbed his chin. “So what? You tryna dress me now?”

Krys lifted a brow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s crazy.”

Krys tilted her head. “What’s crazy is you thinking I’ma let you be out here repping my business looking like you still tryna decide if you wanna be in the streets or not.”

Kenyatta studied her for a second, then smirked. “I like you like this,” he murmured.

Krys lifted a brow. “Like what?”

Kenyatta’s voice dropped lower. “Bossed up. In control.”

Krys’ stomach dipped, but she refused to react. Instead, she reached out, snatched the tablet back, and turned on her heel.

“Would this be all as your pretend boyfriend still or am I no longer on call?” Kenyatta’s voice followed her, teasing, testing.

Krys didn’t stop walking. “You should always be prepared.”

Kenyatta chuckled, shaking his head. “Noted, Bae.”