Page 13 of The Millionaire Mortician

I was just finishing up my last client for the night as I cleaned up his taper.

My feet were barking loud as ever, but my spirit was good.

The salon was packed earlier, with clients in and out, phones ringing, and money flowing.

And that’s all a girl could’ve asked for.

Still, I was ready to shut it down, pour myself a glass of wine, and sink into my couch to relax.

Finally, looking up from my client’s head, I caught sight of two familiar silhouettes by the glass front.

Even before the receptionist buzzed them in, I already knew it was Milan and Maverick.

As they walked in, I observed how different they were, with two completely distinct auras.

Milan was calm and collected, appearing to be always three steps ahead of the world, whereas Maverick was a totally different story.

That man would walk into a room and instantly search for who he could charm, test, or play with.

Sure enough, by the time the door clicked, Milan was already sliding toward my office with his head buried in his phone like he didn’t see me. Mav, on the other hand, caught the eye of one of my stylists and was grinning so wide you’d think he was about to put her on his payroll.

I glanced over at Talina, who was sweeping up by her station, and she shot me that look like, girl, here he goes. I sent her one back with my lips curled. At the end of the day, though, everyone was grown. I couldn’t save anybody from what they thought they wanted.

When I finished with my client and brushed him off, I cleaned my station, sanitized everything, and finally made my way back toward my office.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw Milan leaning back in my chair with his phone in his hand, scrolling with that same blank face.

I wasn’t even sure he blinked at whatever he was looking at.

Mav trailed right behind me like he owned stock in the place. And the second his eyes hit the bouquet of roses I got from Fabe, sitting on my desk, his mouth got slick. “Damn, where did these come from?” he quizzed, smirking like he already had a theory.

Milan’s eyes quickly lifted from his phone and doubled down with his twin’s energy. “Word. Where did they come from?” His tone wasn’t as playful as his brother’s, though. It was calm, but serious. To me, it was too calm. The kind of calm that had heat behind it.

Not missing a beat, I hit them with a quick smile and slid right into my little half-truth. “One of my clients dropped them off earlier as just a lil’ congratulations for the grand opening, that’s all.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it damn sure wasn’t the whole truth, either.

Mav cocked his head. “Word? Client, huh? Male or female?” he pressed, trying to be messy.

I rolled my eyes hard enough to see the inside of my soul. “Why does it matter? Y’all are doing too much.”

Brushing past his instigating ass, I started gathering my bag like the conversation was over.

Although no other words came from Milan, I could feel his gaze burning holes straight through me.

That man didn’t need to say much. His silence always said plenty.

At that moment, I was just trying to get out of dodge, and fast.

By the time the last head in the salon was finished, the twins stuck around, making sure the girls locked up right. True gentlemen or not, they weren’t leaving until everybody got to their whips safely. I appreciated the small gestures they made.

As I was climbing into my truck, I peeped my stylist, Ashley, sliding into Maverick’s Maybach. It’s not my business , I shook my head. They were grown, and I had no control over grown people. Still, I prayed she knew what she was getting herself into.

When I pulled off, Milan was right behind me, like a shadow I couldn’t shake. Home was the destination, and I couldn’t wait to get there.

The next morning, I was behind the wheel, bobbing and weaving through traffic with my coffee in one hand while I steered with the other. My mind kept replaying how off the night before was.

When Milan and I got home, an awkward vibe lingered between us. We didn’t say anything to one another. It was pure silence.

He went straight into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, which wasn’t like him. I didn’t say anything, though. I just waited my turn. In the meantime, I just grabbed myself a fresh silk gown and busied myself with picking out my outfit for the following day.

As soon as he came out, I went in. All I wanted to do was bathe and jump right into bed, so I didn’t make it a long, drawn-out shower.

By the time I got out, Milan was already stretched out on the bed with the TV on low, scrolling through his phone like it was more important than the entire world.

He didn’t look up at me, not once. His energy was cold, and I hated it when he got like that, whether it was because of me or because of work.

We didn’t argue or even exchange any slick comments. We just didn’t talk. That shit was worse than a fight. At least if we were fighting, we were communicating. Instead, it felt like two strangers were living under the same roof.

I usually would’ve said something, but I was exhausted as hell.

Between the clients, the stress of the grand opening, and Milan’s laser-beam eyes in my office when Maverick asked about the roses, I felt drained.

So I did what I do best in those cases..

. I stayed quiet and in my corner. Not even waiting for him to roll over, I just turned on my side and let sleep take me.

Now, driving to work the next day, I kept pondering the silence and space from the night before.

I just knew it was about the damn roses.

He just wasn’t ready to press me about it just yet.

I wasn’t dumb. I knew he didn’t believe that half-truth I fed him.

Milan wasn’t the type to argue in the moment, but he was the type to sit back, analyze, and wait for the right time to corner you with the truth.

That’s what made him dangerous in business and in love.

I sipped my coffee, staring at the light turning green.

My phone buzzed in the passenger seat with a text, but I didn’t even pick it up.

I was too busy plotting. Do I bring it up first, or do I let him ask me?

All I knew was that whatever conversation was coming, it was coming soon, and I had better be ready for it.

By the time lunch rolled around, my head was pounding. Between clients, Talina pressing me about Milan and me, and them damn roses still staring me down in my office, I needed a breather. So I dipped out solo to hit a little restaurant a few blocks away.

When I arrived at the restaurant, I noticed it was busier than I expected. I was craving the shrimp pasta they had, though, so I was willing to be patient if I had to be.

As I walked in, I waited a few moments behind a couple. When it was my turn, just before telling the hostess a table for one, I heard a familiar voice slide up behind me.

“Well, damn, if it ain’t my favorite barber,” he exclaimed in a smooth and low tone.

I froze as my stomach did a whole flip. Turning around, I locked eyes with Fabian, aka my rose sender.

For a split second, I swore the devil was out to get me. Out of everybody I could run into, it just had to be him. The same man Milan was already side-eyeing in spirit without even knowing his name or how he looked.

Fabe grinned like he was happy to see me. “Mind if I join you?” He raised his brows.

I hesitated for a moment as I chewed my bottom lip. Everything in me screamed, say no and keep it pushing. Instead, I nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

The next thing I knew, we were sliding into a booth across from each other.

Before we could start a conversation, the server popped up to take our orders.

“What you sipping on?” Fabe asked with a grin.

“Some lemonade,” I quickly shot back with a smile. “I’m working and need to be focused,” I added.

He nodded and smiled. “I like that... a woman about her business.”

“Exactly.” I smirked.

We placed our drink and meal orders since we both knew exactly what we were there for. The server then ran off to do her thing.

“So, where are you from?” I mustered up the courage to ask.

“I was raised in Brooklyn, but I live out in Queens now,” he answered. “How ‘bout you?” he countered.

“Atlanta, but I reside in Brooklyn.”

“Okay, okay. What brought you out here?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, but I kept it simple. “Opportunities.”

“I can see that. That’s wassup.”

We engaged in easy conversation, spilling out shit like we’d known each other longer than just a cut and a bouquet. It was refreshing to speak to someone else, though, someone new.

As time went on, we ate and we laughed. Fabe had that charm that was laid back, flirty, but not too pushy. The type of vibe that made you lean in without realizing it. Every time he smiled, I felt that flutter in my stomach. That butterfly feeling I hadn’t felt in a while with Milan.

Somewhere between his second drink and the last bite of my pasta, he leaned back and looked me dead in the eye. “I like your energy, Daija. Real talk, I’d love to get to know you outside of the shop.”

My throat went dry instantly. I shook my head and forced a small smile. “I’m flattered, Fabian, but I’m taken.”

His grin softened. “I figured that much. Still, you can’t fault a man for shooting his shot.” He shrugged casually. “Friends, then?”

I should’ve said no and immediately shut him down, but against my better judgment, I found myself nodding again. “Yeah, friends.”

When we stood up to leave, he handed me his phone without even asking. I typed my number in with my heart racing the whole time. We then stepped outside, said our goodbyes, and went our separate ways.

Walking back to the shop, I couldn’t shake the guilt sitting heavy in my chest. I loved Milan without a doubt. However, the butterflies and the rush Fabian gave me were the exact thing I’d been missing, and I hated myself for craving it.