by Zuri Day
“Does this feel good to you?”
Tiffany nodded.
Nick withdrew his middle finger and plunged back in with two. “I can’t hear you.”
“It feels good,” Tiffany stuttered. She could barely think, let alone speak. Nick had found her G-spot and was applying just the right amount of pressure to drive her insane. She tried to move away but Nick held her firm. Her climax was intense, just as she’d experienced in Italy.
Before she could catch her breath, Nick scooted her up to the head of the bed. He quickly took off her dress, drank in her smooth, chocolate body in the cream-colored Victoria’s Secret bra and panty set. “I’m getting ready to eat you like a meal, baby,” Nick whispered before ravishing her hardened nipples with his strong tongue. Once again, his fingers worked magic below as he nibbled her neck and licked her shoulders. When he reclaimed her mouth, he made love to it with his tongue, mimicking the sex act. His fingers followed suit, and soon Tiffany was spiraling over the edge again. This time, Nick withdrew his fingers, rolled over to his nightstand, and quickly donned protection. Without another word, he raised himself above Tiffany, and with one long thrust, plunged deep inside her.
“This is where I’ve wanted to be,” Nick whispered. “This is what I want. You are what I want, Tiffany,” he continued, branding her body with each push. “Give it all to me, baby, I want it all.”
Both of their bodies became sweaty as Tiffany tried her best to give Nick what he asked for. She felt herself drowning in the ecstasy of having him inside her. He felt so good. Maybe Joy’s right. Maybe this can work. Tiffany spread her legs wider, tried to take in more of him. She ran her hands across his taut butt, cupping his cheeks. He answered her unspoken request by pushing in deeper, filling her fully, even as he claimed her lips in a hot, wet kiss. The flutters of another orgasm began at her core. She whimpered, then cried out as her body shook with the force of her climax. Nick’s rhythm increased, his thrusts deepened, and soon he moaned his own release.
That was perfect, Tiffany thought, as Nick’s penis continued to pulsate inside her walls. She rubbed Nick’s back and tenderly kissed his cheek. It was time to toss aside her rule of not mixing business with pleasure so that she could give her heart to this man who made her soul sing. “Nick,” she began, but before she could continue—the phone rang.
“Hold that thought, baby,” Nick said, as he rolled off her and looked at the ID. “I need to take this.” He sat up and pulled the sheet over the lower part of his body. “Bastion. No it’s okay. I knew it had to be important. Never mind that, just fill me in with what you know so far.” Nick got out of bed, reached for his pajama bottoms and continued talking as he walked around the corner to the sitting area of the master suite.
Tiffany got up and stepped into her dress—not even bothering to shower. She refused to think about what had just happened, refused to break down. Knowing it would cost a fortune, Tiffany called a taxi as soon as she stepped outside Nick’s house. Fifteen minutes later, she was on her way home. Five minutes after that, her phone rang. Oh, now you remember that you had a guest. Nick’s call went to voicemail.
By the time she reached her condo, the wall around Tiffany’s heart had been rebuilt. “Kiss my ass, Nick Rollins!” she hissed, as she unlocked her front door. Hmph, his doing just that is how my problems started. There was no humor in life’s irony.
As she climbed the stairs, her mind threatened to return to the scene of the crime, and the moments before her and Nick’s intimacy was so rudely interrupted. But Tiffany refused to go there. That’s it, I’m done. She stripped and stepped into a steaming hot shower. The next time Nick saw her, she vowed, Tiffany would play by his rule book. “Business first.” She quickly dried off, climbed into bed and hugged Tuffy close to her heart. Then, and only then, did she let the tears fall.
19
“Is he in?” Angelica’s question was perfunctory, asked only as a courtesy to Nick’s assistant. Angelica knew she was special to Nick, but she also knew protocol. She didn’t want to barge in and interrupt something important.
“Angelica!” Christina said, genuinely surprised. “You look nice.”
“I know.” And she did. Angelica knew that the firered Ralph Lauren suit fit her 5'7", size-six body to a tee, that the short-cropped jacket emphasized her generous breasts and narrow waistline. She’d had the skirt tailored so that it fit her butt snugly and stopped a couple inches above the knee. She wore the teardrop diamond that Nick had bought her, along with his favorite perfume. She didn’t wear underwear; didn’t need them, for the visit she had in mind. “Is he with someone?”
“No, but it’s Monday and you know how crazy it is after the weekend. He said not to disturb…”
Angelica was already halfway to Nick’s closed door. She gave a brief knock, opened the door, and went inside. “Hey, handsome,” she said, casually tossing her freshly twisted locks over her shoulder. “You are a sight for sore eyes.” She slithered over to Nick’s desk, sat in his lap, and tried to stick her tongue down his throat.
Nick was too stunned to move, but not for long. He reached behind his neck and unlocked her arms before pulling his face away from hers. Her blatant actions had instantly aroused him, but her presumptuousness had angered him as well. “What are you doing here, Angelica?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” She attempted to kiss him again.
“What is this about, Angelica? This isn’t us anymore, remember? You don’t want what I want, so I don’t know why you’re here.”
Angelica reached down and started rubbing Nick’s penis through his slacks. “Can’t a former lover remain a good friend? I’d think what we shared deserves that, at least.”
“Fine, we can be friends. Platonic friends.” Nick moved Angelica’s hand off his dick and placed it in her own lap. “Get up, Angelica.”
Angelica took Nick’s hand and placed it under her skirt, onto her bare skin. “You sure you want me to?”
Nick took a deep, patience-inducing breath. “Positive.”
“Fine,” Angelica said. She got up abruptly and straightened her skirt. Deciding on another tactic, she walked toward Nick’s office windows, which faced the ocean. “I always loved this view.” When Nick remained quiet, Angelica turned around. “So how have you been, Nick? Besides busy.”
“Fine. And you?” Nick felt pretty sure that Angelica didn’t know that he knew about her and Bastion. He decided to keep her ignorant of this fact, for now.
“Good…besides missing you.”
“Spare me that line. A woman like you doesn’t stay lonely for long.”
“You always were smart. But there’s only one Dominique Rollins, you know that.”
“Is that what you came to tell me? That you’ve finally realized what I tried to get you to see for four years?”
“I came for a few things. To congratulate you, for starters. I saw your name in Black Enterprise. One of the most up-and-coming Black men in America.”
“That list is overrated.”
“Spoken like someone who’s on it. But really, congratulations, Nick. I know how hard you work. And congratulations on this hotel. You and your partners did a bang-up job.”
“Thank you, Angelica. So…now that you’ve congratulated me…”
“…you can take me to lunch. I’m starved, and I hear there’s a five-star restaurant not far from your office. I love the name, Taste, very clever. Your idea, I’m sure.”
“Yes, I named the restaurant, which doesn’t open for another week.”
“But that doesn’t matter when you’re the owner, now does it? I’m sure your kitchen is up and operating. I heard about the taste testing for the staff and journalists last week.”
“From whom?”
“Bastion,” Angelica said, recovering quickly from her faux pas. “I ran into him and his wife at Stanfords.”
Nick knew firsthand that Bastion and Jill hadn’t eaten out in weeks. Not since Jill’s diagnosis. But there was no need to tell
Angelica this. “Oh, really,” he said instead.
“Yes, and he told me how impressed he was with the new chef, Wang, I believe he said his name was.”
“You and Bastion had quite the conversation. What did you do? Join him and Jill for dinner?”
“Ha! Hardly. I simply commented on the dish he was having and he told me that it was nothing compared to a similar one made by Chef Wang.” This conversation had actually happened, but it was Bastion and Angelica having dinner at Stanfords, in one of the private dining rooms, the ones that came with their own entrance. Jill had been nowhere around.
“I see.” Nick hesitated in whether or not to take Angelica down to the restaurant. He didn’t want Tiffany to see them together and get the wrong idea. Nick knew Tiffany hadn’t returned his calls because she was angry, and he didn’t want to chance further pissing her off. Her anger was justified. He’d been a jerk, staying on the phone so long. He hadn’t intended to. But the call was important!
“Uh, hello?” Angelica interrupted Nick’s reverie. “This isn’t a complicated request, Nick. Just because we’ve broken up doesn’t mean we can’t eat together.” She walked over, grabbed Nick’s hands, and tried to pull him up from his chair. “Come on, darling, one hour. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I’m pretty busy here, Angelica.”
“All the more reason to join me. A busy man has got to eat.”
Nick knew how bullheaded Angelica could be, and how conniving. If she found out that a woman who worked there was why he didn’t want to take her to Taste, she’d quite possibly become a permanent customer—just to annoy her. I don’t have anything to hide. Chances are, we won’t even see Tiffany. “All right, Angelica, one hour. And then I have to get back to work.”
Tiffany wiped a bead of perspiration away from her face with the sleeve of her white uniform jacket. It wasn’t that the kitchen wasn’t well ventilated, but the steam from the boiling water that cooked the pasta she meticulously stirred was quite warm. The fact that she’d been told this dish was for her boss, who’d brought in someone to try the food—a client, Tiffany assumed—had her a bit hot under the collar as well. Were it not for the fact that she was a consummate professional, she would have laced Nick’s ravioli with enough cayenne to burn off the tongue he used so well. Her inability to ruin perfectly prepared pasta, however, kept him safe.
“How much longer for pasta?” Wang barked to Tiffany.
“One minute, Chef!” She gingerly fished out a freshly made ravioli, placed it on a waiting saucer, speared it with a fork, and took a bite. Thirty more seconds and they will be perfect.
“Once you plate pasta, Tiff, chop basil.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“Roger, cheese freshly shaved?”
“Waiting for your go-ahead, Chef.”
Wang gave a curt head nod.
Tiffany smiled, enjoying the easy way this team worked together, and how Wang bravely navigated his second language. He rarely saw use for articles such as “the” and “a,” since there were none in the Chinese language.
Moments later, Nick and Angelica were served. The delicious aroma from Nick’s crab-stuffed ravioli nestled in a lemon basil butter sauce wafted under his nostrils. Angelica’s tarragon-infused salmon also smelled divine. For a couple moments, the tinkling of silverware on china was the only sound to be heard.
“The verdict?” Nick asked, after taking his napkin to wipe his mouth.
“Divine,” Angelica answered honestly. “This place is going to be the talk of the town, Nick. Those other hot spots had better watch out.”
“I don’t know about all that,” Nick replied, even as his chest swelled. He had to admit it, the food tasted excellent, especially his ravioli. He took another bite and then remembered why. Tiffany had been trained under Chef Riatoli, which meant that she probably prepared the pasta.
“Would you like to try a bite of pasta?”
“Sure.” Angelica finished her bite and took a drink of lemon water to cleanse her palate.
Nick nodded at his plate. “Help yourself.”
“My fork has bits of that wonderful salmon on it, Nick. I won’t get a pure taste.” Angelica batted her lashes seductively. “Feed me.”
Nick speared a stuffed ravioli with his fork and held it out. Angelica slowly wiped the fork clean, and closed her eyes while she chewed.
“Melts in your mouth, doesn’t it?”
“My gosh, where did you get this chef?”
“Stole him from a place in New York where I’ve eaten for years. I wanted someone else, but…”
“Let me guess. That chef in Italy.”
“Exactly. But Emilio loves Rome.”
“Well, Chef Wang is no slouch.” From the corner of her eye, Angelica saw someone watching them from the hallway that led to the kitchen. Someone Black and female. “Here, try some of my salmon.”
“Okay.”
Angelica cut a piece of salmon, placed it on her fork, and lifted it up to Nick. Like her, he slowly eased the fish from her fork and savored the bite.
“Here, you have a little sauce on your mouth.” Angelica leaned over, showing an ample amount of cleavage, and wiped the nonexistent dab from Nick’s lip. She then took her finger and ran it over the same spot. “I miss these, you know,” she said, her smile dazzling.
Nick looked at his watch. “Ten more minutes. I’d better eat up.”
Angelica looked toward the hallway. The woman was gone. She leaned back in her chair, satisfied that she’d accomplished her goal. “I guess you’re right. We wouldn’t want our food to get cold.”
20
Tiffany walked to her car and swore to herself that she wouldn’t cry. Even if she had to peel a thousand onions when she returned to the kitchen tomorrow, not one more tear would she shed for Dominique Rollins. How was he going to sex her to within an inch of her life and not forty-eight hours later bring his ex to her kitchen? Okay, Chef Wang’s kitchen in Nick’s hotel, but still. I know how he did it. The same way he sexed me then forgot I was there as soon as the phone rang. I’m just one of the many women he’s screwed and scrapped. Tiffany had seen the way Christina’s eyes followed him everywhere, when the witch could barely speak to anyone else. And she’d heard other females whisper. They all thought Nick Rollins was the cat’s meow. Yes, he’d made her cat meow, but that was beside the point. Tiffany didn’t have time to have her heart speared like a fresh piece of asparagus. As much as it hurt, she was glad the night with Nick ended the way it did. His abrupt change of focus had brought her back to reality, shattered all illusions. It had been crazy to dream that she could have a relationship with a man like Nick and after seeing how quickly his taking care of business put her on the back burner, she realized she didn’t want to.
As she pulled out of Le Sol’s employee parking lot, Tiffany’s thoughts were interrupted by her vibrating telephone. Her first thought was that it was Nick calling, this time to probably explain how lunching with Angelica was just business. “I could care less, Mr. Rollins,” Tiffany said aloud. Her phone was buried at the bottom of her bag, so she simply clicked her headset. “Hello?”
“Tiffany, it’s Dad.”
Tiffany swerved, narrowly missing a white Beemer as she turned onto the boulevard. She hadn’t heard his voice in a year. “Dad?” she asked incredulously.
The smile on Keith’s face was heard in his voice. “I deserve that, pumpkin. I know I’m a rotten father who’s neglected his only child her whole life. But believe it or not, the hard work’s all for you.”
“No, Dad, I don’t believe it.” Tiffany took a breath. “But I don’t want to argue. Why’d you call, since you didn’t feel the need to do so while you were in town last month.” Dangit. The last part of that sentence had come out of its own volition.
Keith sighed heavily. “Look, your mother’s already cussed me out for that. Can you not beat me up, even though I deserve it?”
Tiffany was silent a moment before answering. “I’ll try.”<
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“So…how are you, Tiffany?”
Angry. Exhausted. Hurting. “Fine.”
“Your mom tells me you’re working at a restaurant.” Keith tried but failed to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“Yes, Dad, I’m a sous chef for one of the leading chefs in the country, Li Wang. His contemporaries are people like Emeril, Alton Brown, Mario Batali, Masaharu Morimoto, Bobby Flay. What am I doing? I’m sure you don’t know who I’m talking about. But they’re all famous chefs, millionaire chefs,” she added, knowing that nothing got her father’s attention like the mention of money.
“Wait, just hold on now. While I don’t care much for the kitchen, you know I love food. I know the name of that Flay guy you mentioned. Sasha and I ate at one of his restaurants when we were in New York, a year or so ago.”
“Wow, Dad, I’m impressed.” And she was. Not only for the fact that her dad knew about Bobby Flay, but that she and her dad could possibly talk without arguing. “Which one was it? Mesa, Bar Americain…”
“Mesa.”
“Cool. What did you have?”
“Baby girl, we eat out so much, I don’t remember. Sasha has many talents, but cooking is not one of them.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes and then remembered she was driving. She could just about imagine what talents the stepmother who was just a few years older than her possessed. Still, this was a civil conversation with her father, the first one in a year. She’d forgotten how cordial her father could be, and how much she missed him. “When are you coming back to LA?” The question was out before she could stop it. “I know you were just here, so I imagine it will probably be a while.” She didn’t want her father to know how much she needed to see him.