Chapter Six
Xavier
She looked damn good. The way that dress was hugging her ass had me placing my hands in my pockets to avoid “accidentally” reaching out and touching. I hadn’t expected to see Chanel at the gala that night. She usually didn’t attend these events, but of course, that was when she was living out-of-state. But it sure as hell was a pleasant surprise to have her bump into me. I could sense her discomfort standing around Lamont and Larsa. I wondered what that was about. I knew all three had known each other when they were younger. I couldn’t shake the sense that Chanel was trying to make what felt like an escape as she walked away. I turned, looking back at Lamont and Larsa, who wore sheepish looks.
“You had a hell of a season last year. Think you can do it again?” I asked, deciding not to pry into whatever that was.
“Oh, no doubt.” Lamont’s blank expression turned to one of a man who was completely sure of himself. Lamont and I weren’t close, but he’d done some promotional stuff for one of my restaurants in the city and hosted a few events at a club of mine. He was cool peoples from what I knew of him. We talked for a few about the upcoming season and how his team’s defense was looking.
We parted ways, and I sought out Jason who was wining and dining his clients like the professional bullshitter he was. I laughed as Tori stood by him, watching him do his thing, making faces every now and again that only I could see. Jay and I caught up after his clients had gone on their way. He asked me about my trip to D.C., from which I’d just returned only a few hours before. Elliott and Marjorie joined us after a while, and we all caught up before Jay and Tori departed. I went over to the silent auction table to see what organizations they were receiving donations. One, in particular, caught my eye.
“Women’s Shelter of Houston.” I looked up at Elliott, who tilted his head to Marjorie.
“The wife thought it needed to be added,” he said.
I found it interesting it was Marjorie who’d convinced him to include the women’s shelter. When they walked away, I picked up the pen on the clipboard and wrote in a number that was well above any of the other donations. They were auctioning off a couple of tickets for a four-day cruise from Galveston to Mexico. I had very little interest in the cruise and figured if I won the bid, I could give it to one of my employees or something.
I placed the clipboard back down on the table and looked out over the people who were mingling. I told myself I wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, but as soon as I caught a flash of that champagne-colored dress, I followed her every move. When I followed her line of sight, I saw she was looking at Elliott and Marjorie. Elliott had pulled Marjorie into him, his arm around her waist, and Marjorie wore an amused and loving expression as Elliott whispered something in her ear. It wasn’t an unordinary sight to me, but looking back at Chanel, I could see something didn’t sit well with her. After a few more moments of staring, she shook herself out of the trance and quickly turned, moving toward the back set of doors, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter on her way out.
I raised an eyebrow at her odd behavior. I felt something tugging me toward the exit I saw her go through. I knew that door led to an area behind the planetarium, but not in the direction of the parking lot where a car would be waiting. It took me a minute to finally make it to the door, as more than a few people stopped me to discuss something or other.
When I opened the door, her back was to me as she stood, staring up at the night sky. This felt eerily familiar. I couldn’t help the way my eyes trailed down her body. That dress was hitting all the right spots perfectly, showing off the smallness of her waist and the swell of her ass. The toned nature of her legs was put on display by the six-inch heels she wore.
“Chanel?” I called. When she turned, I could just make out sadness in her eyes. That same look she wore that night at my bar. “What are you doing out here?”
She shook her head. “He loves her,” she answered.
That surprised me. “Who? Lamont?” I asked, thinking back to her unease earlier in the evening.
She scoffed at that. “Him, too,” she answered, before shaking her head. “What are you doing out here?”
“Checking on you,” I retorted honestly.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to. You looked, I don’t know. You didn’t look okay. You all right?”
“No. Not really, to be honest.”
“Come with me.” I held out my hand.
The look of surprise on her face was instant. But instead of waiting for her to decide, I grabbed her by the elbow. “We’re leaving.” I have no idea what was pushing me, but I’d made my decision. Instead of going back through the gala, I guided us around the outside of the planetarium, doing my best to avoid other guests who had gathered outside.
When we came to the front, I had the valet call up my driver. Minutes later, I waved my driver off as I held the door open for Chanel to get in the back of the town car. I told him we were going to my home before sliding in the back seat myself.
“You didn’t drive, right?” I asked.
“No, my father had a car service pick me up.”
“Cool. I didn’t want to have to make more arrangements to have your car brought to you.” I grinned as she cut her eyes at me.
“Whatever,” she dismissed, reclining back in the seat, looking more relaxed. “Where are you taking me?” she questioned, glancing out the window.
“My house.” I glanced at her out of the side of my eyes when her head snapped back to me. “You hungry?”
“A little.” Her hand moved over her belly. “I don’t think I’ve eaten since lunch.” She frowned.
“And you spent the night filling up on champagne.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw you with at least two glasses of the sparkling stuff, and I bet it was more than just those two.” In fact, the way she was looking earlier, I could tell she wanted something stronger.
“Do you think I’m a lush, Mr. Grant?” she teased, causing me to laugh.
“Nah, nothing like that.”
The answer seemed to satisfy her.
“How was D.C.?”
“Why? You missed me?”
She sucked her teeth. “I was just making friendly conversation. I didn’t even realize you were gone.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Lying ass. You were waiting for me to pop up asking you out on our second date, huh?”
She scoffed. “How on earth could you ask me out on a second date when we’ve never been on a first date?”
“Back to that again, huh?” I sighed. “Lunch was our first date, whether you care to admit it or not.” I shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not my usual style for a first date, but it’s whatever.”
As the last words spilled out, I realized the car had stopped, and we were in front of my home. The driver lowered his window to punch in the code to the gate, and we entered, pulling up to the front entrance. I slid out first, again waving the driver off, to help Chanel out. On purpose, I stood a little too close to the door, allowing her body to brush up against mine as she stood. When her lashes lowered, I could tell she felt the same rush of heat I’d felt at our nearness.
“Thanks, John,” I told the driver as I wrapped my arm around Chanel’s waist, pulling her toward the door.
“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen the inside of your home,” Chanel commented. The light automatically turned on as we entered the foyer. Her eyes floated around, taking in my charcoal gray-and-black color scheme that adorned the sitting room on the left and my office to the right.
“That’s ‘cause you never brought your ass back from the east or west coasts from time to time,” I retorted. I’d always wondered why she rarely came around. Sure, she lived in different states, but it was a rare occurrence she’d come around even on holidays. Jason had told me if he ever wanted to see his sister, he’d have to make a trip to see her.
She didn’t take the bai
t I’d thrown. Simply gave me a casual expression and said, “I’m here now. How about a tour?” When her rose pink lips spread into an inviting smile, I felt something roll over in my stomach, and was pretty sure there wasn’t much I would say no to her about.
“Come on,” I relented, grabbing her hand. I ignored how comfortable her hand felt in mine. “This is the sitting room, where I do most of my entertaining. Though I don’t entertain much here.”
“Why not?” she asked, as we exited and crossed the foyer to my office, her hand still in mine.
“I own six different restaurants and a nightclub in this city alone. If I want to entertain, I can do it at any one of those.”
“Ahh, you don’t like people in your private space,” she surmised. “I understand that.”
We entered my office, and she took in the bookshelf along the wall, my cherry wood desk and leather loveseat that was off to the side.
“Do you work from home most days or do you have an office elsewhere?” she asked, following me out as I made our way down the hall.
“I have an office downtown. A few buildings down from your family’s law firm. I like to work from home from time to time, but with meetings and my staff, I need a separate office because—”
“You don’t like people in your personal space,” she quipped.
I laughed. “I guess. Upstairs are three of the bedrooms and a bathroom, not including the one in the master bedroom.” I gestured up the stairs as we passed them. I guided her down the long hall, pointing out what I called my “T.V. room,” another room I used to entertain guests. I had a larger media room downstairs, but the upstairs was for when I had only one or two guests. “And finally, the kitchen.” We entered the open doorway that led to one of my favorite rooms in the house. The white and gray marble countertops sparkled as the pots and pans hung in the convenient overhead rack.
“Now, this is a kitchen. I wouldn’t expect one so luxurious from you.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Because you’re so busy, and I don’t know. You...” she trailed off.
I had no idea what she meant, but her tone didn’t make me take offense. “Okay, whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. Do you like alfredo?” I asked, heading over to my sub-zero refrigerator, pulling it open and searching for the contents of my earlier lunch.
“Of course, I do. Who doesn’t like alfredo? You got chicken to go with it?”
“Is there any other way to have it?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder, winking at her. I pulled out the glass containers that held the sauce, linguine, and chicken with broccoli.
“Mm, looks good. Your chef did a good job.”
I scoffed. “Chef? For some damn alfredo?” Offense was obvious in my tone. “I made this myself.”
“You cook?”
“I own close to twenty restaurants. You think I don’t know how to cook, even basic shit?” Seriously, there was nothing complicated about a simple alfredo sauce over linguine.
“I don’t know. I just figured you had a chef or ate at one of your restaurants.”
“I do a lot of the time, and yes, I do have a chef come in a few times a week when I’m in town. But, since I just got back in a few hours ago, I grabbed what was in my fridge and made this.”
“Oh.” She sounded surprised.
“You acting like you’ve never seen a man cook before or something,” I commented, placing the food in the microwave.
She snorted. “In my experience, they don’t.”
I shook my head. “The hell kinda dudes you been around?”
She laughed. “Don’t ask.”
I glanced over at her before turning back to pull the food out of the microwave. “Sit.” I jerked my head to the high-sitting stools at the center island.
“Taste this,” I told her as I spun the fork in the bowl, scooping up a few noodles and chicken, dragging it through the creamy sauce to make sure she got a forkful of everything. “Open,” I commanded, blowing on the food to cool it off, and then holding it up to her mouth.
She looked from the fork to me before slowly opening her mouth, accepting my offer. When her lips closed around the prongs of the fork, I slowly pulled it out, having to stop myself from groaning.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, and a look of pure satisfaction came over her. “Delicious,” she smiled. When her eyes opened and locked with mine, I forgot all about the goddamn food. I lowered the bowl, placing it on the counter, and moved my hands to grip her waist. When her tongue snaked out, licking off the excess sauce, it was over for me. I ducked my head and took her lips with my own.
It took a second before I felt her open up and accept my tongue into her mouth. She tasted like the alfredo, champagne from earlier, and something uniquely her. I wanted more of that taste, so I took it. I sucked on her tongue, moving back briefly to nip at her bottom lip. When I heard her whimper, I plunged back into her mouth, trying to devour her whole. My grip tightened on her waist, and I felt her hands reach up, gripping my shoulders tightly, pulling me in for more.
“Oh, shit!” I heard in the background.
It took my brain a moment to realize that those words didn’t come from Chanel because her mouth was otherwise engaged. It took me another moment for me to shake off the haze from our kiss to recognize the voice of the person who’d spoken.
“Shit, Xavier, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you would be home so early,” my mother said, sounding contrite.
I stood fully, stepping back from Chanel, who now sat wide-eyed, looking between my mother and me.
“Chanel?” My mother looked, confused.
“Hi, Ms. Grant,” Chanel greeted, looking embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, baby,” my mother said again.
“It’s okay, Mama. Did you need something?”
“Oh, no. I left my iPad in the house earlier when I let Pumpkin out. I just came back in to grab it, and I saw the kitchen light on.”
I nodded. Pumpkin was my mother’s Pomeranian, whom I sometimes thought she loved more than me.
“Chanel, I apologize for interrupting. It’s been a long time. I heard you had moved back. Good to see you.”
Chanel smiled. “It’s good to see you too, Ms. Grant. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m well. I’ll let you two get back to, you know.” My mother waved her hand, turning to leave.
Chanel turned back to me with laughter in her eyes. Seconds later, she burst out laughing. That response confused me. She’d gone from embarrassed to laughing in a matter of seconds.
“What’s so funny?”
“You live with your mom. Aww,” she teased before laughing again.
I frowned at her. “Don’t play me. I don’t live with my mother. She lives with me,” I emphasized by patting my chest.
She gave me a dubious look, laughter still dancing around in those brown orbs.
“Nah, for real. She lives in the guest house out back. And it’s temporary. I’m having her house remodeled, so she’s staying with me until it’s done,” I explained.
She sobered a little bit, a smile still playing at her lips. “It’s cute though,” she smirked.
“It’s not cute. She refused to move out of the house she raised me in, even when I offered to buy her something bigger. I finally convinced her to let me remodel it for her and update her security.” My mother loved her little two-bedroom home. It wasn’t too small or falling apart. My mother was a CPA and could afford more on her own, but she’d grown up frugally and raised me as a single mother, so pinching pennies was her way of life.
Chanel straightened. “That’s dope, taking care of your mother.”
“Yeah, well. She took care of me for so long. She rarely splurged on herself but spent thousands of dollars sending me to private schools so I’d have the best opportunities. It’s the least I can do,” I said with all the pride I had for my mother in my voice.
“Nice,” Chanel nodded.
“Here. Finish eating,” I told her, pushing th
e bowl in front of her.
“I was enjoying my meal before your lips rudely interrupted it.”
“Is that right? I don’t recall you pushing me or my lips away,” I said at the same time my eyes dipped down to look at her lips. I ran my tongue along my bottom lip, and I swear I saw her tremble.
“Whatever,” she mumbled, taking another forkful.
I watched as she ate; mainly I watched her lips. Every time her tongue snuck out, licking up the sauce, my hands clenched reflexively. I was doing my best not to maul this woman in my damn kitchen, but I swear she wasn’t making it easy. Especially not in that dress that showed off her delectable brown thighs.
“That was delicious,” she finally broke the silence. “Thank you.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. Let’s go,” I directed after placing the dishes in the sink. I bent to grab two seltzer waters from my drink refrigerator that was housed under my counter.
“Thanks,” Chanel said, taking one of the bottles.
I grabbed her free hand with my own and escorted her down the second hall and down the stairs to my media room. On the far wall sat a huge screen with speakers on both sides and underneath, which made for great surround sound. In the center was a large glass coffee table that held the remotes for the entertainment center. On one side were three low-sitting yellow chairs, on the other side was large, brown suede ottoman, and opposite the screen sat the dark purple couch that could easily fit four people.
“I bet this is where you spend most of your free time,” she grinned.
“Probably.”
“I can see why,” she agreed, eyeing the framed movie posters on the wall. “This is nice. Not too big that it’s uninviting, or too much like a movie theater. Still feels like we’re in a home.”
I picked up one of the remotes from the table.
“You think so, huh?” I pressed the button that turned on the music player. Within seconds, Janet Jackson’s “No Sleep” began floating through the speakers. Chanel’s smile was instant as I walked over, pulling her into my arms. “You like this song?” I asked, taking in the sway of her head.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “It’d be better without J. Cole, but…” She shrugged and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.
Safe Space (Book 1) Page 8