He Who Is a Friend (Sadik Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  “It was presumptuous. We’ve never discussed that. I don’t even know you.”

  “Yet. You don’t know me yet. But we’re getting to know each other with the time we spend together.”

  “Time that will end if you pull another stunt like that again, Sadik.” My eyes were hard on him. “I’ll admit, the dating stuff is new to me, but having my feelings dismissed isn’t. I won’t have it.”

  I had to take a stand. As I’d sensed of him before, there was something uncompromising about his aura. I couldn’t get rolled over by it. He’d never respect me, and I’d lose it for myself. We battled with stubborn glares for countless seconds, and while he quit first by tipping the box onto my lap, Sadik didn’t forfeit at all.

  “And I have ample experience?” He sat back in his seat, tossing his arm over the back of the bench, and gazed out the window. “Being accommodating is outside of my element. Time is a comfort only I provide in each relationship I engage, including business. I write the rules of engagement and break them if it suits my agenda. I set goals and pace. I create the parameters and regulate the boundaries.” He then turned to me, honeyed eyes darkened. “I choose, I pursue, I conquer, and I cancel. Sorry to have to tell you, you’re my current pursuit.”

  His ringing phone effectively broke the moment. Yet once again, it was a timely distraction. His words were weighty, the conviction behind them palpable. With a galloping heart, I stewed on them as he took the call. So many thoughts zapped through my mind under the sound of his commanding, scratchy alto conducting another business call. So lost in my head, I hardly realized when the limo pulled to a stop.

  The front of the car’s doors slammed closed, and my gaze went to the surroundings outside of the window.

  “Phil, I have to go. I’ve been rude to my date.” My head whipped over to Sadik’s smirk as he scooted up the bench. “Yeah. Just have Bryant email the paperwork to my office. They’ll know what to do with it.” There was a brief pause before he ended with, “Okay,” his tone professional.

  The door was opened, and he slid out of the limo. Without words, Sadik reached back in with his hand and helped me out. We were in a parking lot, and jet engines could be heard all around. One airplane was landing over us as we took off. Once again, I was trailing behind his confident gait. The big security guard was ahead of us as we began our journey. We traveled through a narrow gate next to a building, where a huge runway lot opened and dozens of planes were all around.

  “Where are we?” I tried speaking over the airport’s noise pollution.

  Sadik answered over his shoulder, “Teterboro.”

  Trekking behind him in high heels, I turned to see little Rory was on our trail. She sported aviator sunglasses with her black button-up shirt, black slacks, and maroon leather jacket. The big security guy was near two men, one white, one Asian, engaged in conversation. I saw when he handed one of the men wearing a captain’s hat a file folder as we approached.

  “Mr. Ellis!” one greeted, lifting his hat slightly.

  “Evening,” the other did the same with an added nod.

  “Fellas,” Sadik returned, passing them.

  We were boarding the plane after Sadik’s security. A private friggin’ plane. Oh, my God! A private plane! The smell of food invaded my nostrils right away. As we walked into the cabin, his security slammed himself into a leather seat.

  “This ain’t up to date like yours,” he observed out loud to Sadik.

  Sadik scoffed, using his free hand to rub the back of his head. “It’ll have to do.”

  We continued past a divider of sorts, moving into another section with oversized leather seats. Sadik led us farther down to another section, where he gave a cursory glance to what I could tell was a dining area.

  “We can bunk it over here.” He tossed his chin toward the middle section. “You can have any seat you want,” he mumbled, grabbing a remote. “Get comfortable. We should be taking off right away.”

  I turned, my regard on the area around me. I was on a private plane. On a private plane, and Sadik behaved as if this was routine luxury for him.

  “Where are we going?” My stomach roiled and pulse quickened, finally finding my voice.

  “To Miami,” he answered without looking at me, busy flipping through channels.

  “Mi—” I blinked, chin dipped as I swallowed hard. “Why are we going to Miami? We don’t have clothes.”

  I don’t even know you to stay with you!

  Sadik turned to me, his eyelids collapsed. He tapped his forehead with the remote as though distressed. I watched as he took a deep breath, exhaling a gust of his arousing cologne my way. He moved toward me, taking me at the hand to be seated. Then he lowered himself on the leather chair across from me.

  “I’m sorry, Bilan. Again, I’m fuckin’ up.” Dramatically, his head collapsed as he released a perceptible breath. “I set this up over the weekend, and a man with a schedule like mine has a lot of shit happening in the space of a day. The fact that I haven’t told you where we’re going never dawned on me.”

  “How long are we supposed to be in Miami?”

  “Just a few hours.”

  “A few hours?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are we going to do in Miami for just a few hours? How are we getting back?”

  “We’re going to a show. I’d like to keep that part a secret until we get there. And we’ll get home the same way we’re getting down there.” His eyes rolled toward the roof to gesture the plane.

  “Mr. Ellis?” A man appeared in uniform, wearing a friendly smile. “I’m Jeremy and will be serving you and your guests this evening. Dinner is set. The captain’s been given clearance for takeoff. Can I offer you two a drink while we’re taxiing?”

  Heavy knocks had all of our attention going to the divider toward the front of the plane. It was Rory craning her neck through.

  “Shit,” Sadik breathed, going for his pockets.

  Rory stepped in and collected both his cell phones. “No calls unless it’s death or Code Double E.”

  “Gotchu,” she muttered, sauntering back to the front area.

  “Yes, Jeremy,” Sadik addressed the flight attendant. “I’ll have Mauve, straight up. What about you, Bilan?”

  My eyes widened, shifting back and forth. “I…uhhhh… I’ll have the same.”

  “Very well,” Jeremy acknowledged before taking off.

  Sadik turned to me, and I could feel the plane move. He gathered my hands in his, stroking the back of them. His innocent touch sending volts of stupid sensations shooting up my spine.

  “Are you hungry?” His voice too sweet. “I’m starving.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t have an appetite.

  Sadik lowered his chin, studying me. “I apologized for earlier—”

  “Actually, you haven’t.”

  “Do I need to say the words?”

  “Is that too hard for Mr. Demanding Alpha?”

  His face cracked in a big smile and he snorted, eyes unmoving from me. I tried chewing the inside of my mouth to keep from mirroring his contagious expression.

  “I’ve rattled you. I’m sorry. For everything,” he made clear. “How can I gain your trust back, Bilan?”

  Feeling petty, I shrugged, one shoulder higher than the other as I tried looking away from him. Sadik made it hard. Him. His face and being were the compelling attractions.

  He yanked at my hands gently. “Tell me.” His words poured in with genuine affection.

  “Make me forget you’re a stranger,” I whispered, feeling silly for phrasing it that way.

  I should have been more direct, but it was hard to under those feline eyes. The green in them glimmered.

  The captain spoke from the overhead system, announcing takeoff and requesting we buckle our seatbelts. Jeremy appeared with drinks and we pulled up the tray tables attached to our seats. I watched Sadik rub the tumbler of brandy in his palms on top of the tray as he peered heatedly into me. It made me squi
rm ridiculously.

  “Do I make you nervous…intimidate you, Bilan?”

  Clearing my throat, I squared my shoulders and mimicked his actions with my own glass. “No,” I stated emphatically, because telling the truth was harder. “By the way, what are we doing?”

  The sides of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Warming the brandy.”

  My mouth formed an “O.” When Sadik was done, so was I. When he took his first sip, feline hued eyes locked onto me, I followed suit. When he didn’t speak, I held my tongue, too. Ascending was a difficult event to get through when imitating a man who likely took flights—private flights—more times a year than I bought tampons. But I got through it…with Mauve. With the immediate-acting sedative, I got through shooting up above the clouds. My burning chest went completely ignored.

  As promised, Jeremy appeared at the door, announcing dinner as soon as the captain advised we were in-flight and could remove our seatbelts.

  Sadik reached for my hand, and led me to the room farther to the rear of the plane, where there was a romantic dinner setting for two. A garden salad awaited us as we sat at the table.

  “Please tell me you eat chicken,” Sadik questioned. “I’ve never seen you eat, so I didn’t know what you liked. If you’re vegetarian, I have a backup. Herb-crusted salmon. If you’re vegan, there’s couscous.”

  I lifted the fork to pretend to be hungry, but I wasn’t. I giggled nervously when I caught him watching closely.

  “I eat chicken…and fish, I guess.”

  “You guess?” He didn’t move, waiting for my answer. I shrugged, not knowing what to say. That’s when Sadik put down his fork. “Do you want to try the chicken now instead of starting with the salad?”

  With a squished nose, I shook my head. “I told you I’m not hungry. To be honest, I’m not a big eater.”

  His eyes fell to my breasts in the tube top portion of the gown; I was sure he had my body in mind to survey. “You’re not all that small, so I doubt if you have much of an eating disorder.”

  I shook my head again. “I’m just not a big eater.” I rolled my eyes, suddenly frustrated by not being able to be completely honest with him. “I lose my appetite easily,” I droned, pinching my brows.

  For a while, Sadik didn’t speak. I peered up at him, catching the wrinkle of skin between his eyes. Then out of nowhere, his shoulders collapsed and he moved to take off his suit jacket.

  “Okay,” he screeched, peeling out of it. He caped it on the back of the chair next to him before adjusting his tie to begin eating. “This or that.”

  “What’s that?” I watched him chew.

  “A game we’re gonna use to get to know each other. We’ll have two different options to choose from to describe our preference and hopefully gain more knowledge about the other person.” He went for his glass.

  I didn’t exactly follow, but was too embarrassed to say. So, I shrugged. “Okay...”

  “Alright.” His eyes went to the ceiling as he cleared the contents of his mouth with his sweeping tongue. That rude table behavior increased his sexiness for some stupid reason.

  “A cook or housekeeper for your home?”

  My mouth stretched and rotated in a circular fashion. “I don’t eat much, and I’m never home to clean. So a housekeeper would be a lifesaver.”

  Sadik nodded, going back for his plate.

  My turn…

  “Michael Jackson or Prince?”

  “Ragee.” His answer was delivered without thought.

  “Ragee’s voice is unparalleled, but he couldn’t hold the coats of Michael or Prince.”

  “Ragee is Jersey goods,” he stated categorically while stuffing chicken into his mouth. “His voice is stellar: he ain’t gotta dance. Just give him time to keep building his catalogue.”

  Ragee’s weird…

  The only thing he had comparable to those legends was the level of privacy he chose to live his life with. Oh—and the rumors! Michael and Prince’s sexuality were still debatable to some to this very day.

  “Love stories or suspense? And don’t be predictable,” he warned, flashing those honeyed irises.

  I pouted. “Suspense—action filled, too!”

  Sadik’s glass was midair and his forehead dented when he asked, “Why?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve gotten comfortable with the unknown in life. It’s been hard when it included death and imprisonment, but it’s given me my war scars. I’m afraid to get comfortable with the pattern or routine you find in love stories. That’s why I laughed when you assumed I read Christina C. Jones’ romance stories. Romance is…corny. It isn’t real. They’re fantasies and given the drama and suspense I’ve had in my life over the past few years, love stories are an insult to the human psyche.”

  “Damn…” His lids stretched closed, blinking deeply before reclining in his seat. His gaze was locked onto me. I gave an affirmative nod. “A blossomed flower without sunshine,” he quoted lines from a recent Young Lord record.

  I squinted, head shifted to the side as I smirked. “You are Jersey strong, aren’t you?”

  “Good stuff is bred in Jersey, girl.” He went back to his plate.

  Mine looked…lonely.

  “Alright.” He chewed around the word, so rude. So manly. “Cabin life or beach house?”

  My eyes ballooned. “Beach. As corny as it sounds, it’s a fantasy to spend the night at the beach.” That was an easy one.

  I’d never dreamed of traveling the world so much as I had being near the water. And any clean water would do. Everyone around me knew. I low key believed that was why Randi would have to name drop when she went out of town. She didn’t always go to beach destinations, but that getaway piece was what I lacked in life. I knew it and she did, too.

  “You’ve never stayed at a beach resort or gone down to the shore in Jersey?”

  I shook my head, looking away. “Other than my aunt and her family who live by the shore. They’ve invited us out for the day when I was young, but that would just be a few hours at a time. My parents worked dog hours when the business was going. And after, we had no money for much. My father died, brother got in trouble, then Mommy got sick.”

  “And since then, you’ve been a struggling college student?”

  The question form was more gentle than a statement. I shrugged with my mouth.

  Instead of answering, I took my go. “Are you happy or just content?”

  “Content.” He reached over and forked salad leaves from my plate, stuffing it into his mouth. “Happiness has come in intervals for me. Not sure if the little I experience is something I’m owed or should expect.” He lifted his brows, poked his lips. “But I take whatever I can.”

  Such a forlorn state of mind about happiness. It was up there with my being alone theory.

  “Why can’t happiness be an obtainable state like it is for everyone else?”

  Sadik gazed at me through his lashes. “Everyone?”

  “Yeah. Unless you’re dealing with a pre-existing, uncontrollable condition like depression, why can’t you, a man with all these resources, be happy?”

  “I hate to sound so cliché, but money doesn’t bring happiness. It brings headaches from trying to keep and grow it. It brings snakes, liars, actors, and posers. Money can be a source of stress. It’s like a repellent for trustworthy people.”

  Hmmm…

  I grabbed my glass and pulled it to my mouth for a sip when he uttered, “Pills or shot?”

  I almost choked on the water. Sadik sputtered a hearty laugh. His eyes rolled back and hand splayed at his abdomen. Birth control. He wanted to ask about birth control after hauling me off to a gynecologist without a heads up.

  Still cracking up, he stood from his chair. “I need to use the little boys’ room real quick.” He excused himself and sauntered to the back of the plane, amusement still pulling at his lungs.

  I shifted in my seat, careful not to make my movements too abrupt or extreme in the dark purple, smoky-like ceiling
of the hall. The ambiance was velvety, the artistic sounds were rich and poetic, and the view was Somali exotic. We were past the intermission and over one hour and a half since start time, and I spent much of the show ogling her profile.

  This was wrong and I knew it. Having her down here, wanting to be around her, pretending she was fair game. It was all fucked up, and I knew it each time I decided to see her again. I knew it when I set up the romantic, cop-a-spot in the jazz park, too. Bilan fought hard as hell to keep her guard up, and while it didn’t seem like I put much effort into fighting her, I knew I’d been applying pressure for her to open up to me. I knew she fucking wanted me, and I made it that way. Why? Because I was a selfish ass recalcitrant, who went after everything I was told I couldn’t have.

  Bilan and I came from two different worlds. While hers wasn’t blemish-free, her lifestyle was. Corruption was around her, not in her. And she was beautiful. Fuck, she was bad. Almond skin, pear shape with fixed wide hips, and the short throwback haircut worked well on her. She seemed…simple. Uncomplicated in the grand scheme of things. Smart, aloof of her environment, hidden yet honest, tainted and undeniably innocent at the same damn time. I’d never seen a clearer case of duplicity in a woman.

  I needed to back down. Had to call off whatever fantasy I’d been wrapping myself in regarding her. It was only right. After tonight, I wouldn’t fuck with Bilan anymore. It was best for her. Good for me…I’d been breaking all my rules for women and dating with her. I didn’t date. I didn’t second-guess. And I damn sure didn’t apologize. Tonight wasn’t my first time taking a woman to Dr. Clifford for testing. But she damn sure was the first to protest about it. Even Dr. Clifford quickly commented to me about her unease before we left with our HIV results.

  I took her to get tested so I could fuck her. I wanted to, badly. She called me a demanding alpha, and my dick inflated at the last syllable! I held her hand with a grip of possession because she melted into my palm as though she was mine. The heat of her body, the scent of her desire for me, all felt familiar too fast. I wasn’t a man of romantic gestures or candlelight measures. Yet, here I was, sitting in a symphony hall, hoping I was impressing her. And she didn’t eat my food on the jet. Completely rejected all but a slice of bread when I suggested she had something on her stomach since she was drinking quality brandy. Other than that, half the DiFillippo’s order I managed to have on our flight went to waste.