I Am Moore (All That & Moore Book 1)

by Celeste Granger

  “The court will come to order.”

  Tristan had no choice but to take his position behind the prosecutor’s table. That didn’t keep his eyes from trailing to Emery. She still captivated him.

  The jury filed into the courtroom. Judge Belvin entered the courtroom. Malcolm and Deneen were positioned next to Emery and their team was ready. The court came to order. It was time for opening arguments.

  Tristan strode to the front of the courtroom, positioning himself in front of the jury and directly across from the defense table; giving Emery no choice but to see him. Tristan was eloquent in his delivery, putting forth the argument that discrimination had nothing to do with the wages the workers were paid. Rather, the employers based wage decisions on qualifications and seniority. Emery watched as the six women of the jury were transfixed by his charm and charisma. He knew how to play to the women; capitalizing on their appreciation of his physical attributes. Even if the men didn’t respond favorably to him, it didn’t matter to Tristan. A hung jury meant his side still won. Emery couldn’t have that. Although her opening was prepared, Emery listened to every word Tristan said. She had to capitalize on his flaws and exploit them to her client’s benefit.

  When Tristan finished, his stride back to the prosecutor’s table was more confident than his approach. Tristan made sure to look at Emery as he passed her table and a smile slid across his lips.

  “Attorney Moore,” Judge Belvin announced. “You may address the jury.”

  Standing to her feet and taking a cleansing breath, Emery moved around the defense table. The sashay of her hips as she passed Tristan practically stole his breath away. His eyes lingered as she strategically positioned herself in front of the jury. This was Emery’s playground. Doubt didn’t enter here. She trusted her education, wit, skills, and the truth of what she believed in when she spoke to the jury. And they listened; not just the men who may have thought she was attractive, but also the women who heard the conviction and pursuit for the greater good from her heart.

  And after the proceedings were over, Tristan approached Emery again.

  “I see you haven’t lost a step, Emery.”

  “Did you expect that I would, Tristan,” Emery asked; tilting her head slightly, refusing to drop her gaze.

  Tristan took a decided step forward, decreasing the space between them.

  “You didn’t have to lose me, though,” Tristan suggested, flashing his smile that once melted Emery’s heart.

  “That’s the thing Tristan,” Emery began. “I didn’t lose you. I left you.”

  Emery eased away from him, making sure her scent was the last thing he had of her. Even as she walked away, Emery knew Tristan was watching. She gave him something to look at.

  “You did, it Emery! That was magnificent,” Deneen beamed as she fell into place next to her. “$75 million-dollar settlement and setting a precedent for years to come? Amazing!”

  “Thank you, Deneen. I couldn’t have done it without you and Malcolm’s hard work.”

  Before exiting the courtroom, Emery looked back over her shoulder to find Tristan staring as she expected. She turned and walked out without a second look. Emery felt a wave of sadness. Not long ago, she gave of herself freely to a man she thought truly loved her. She was prepared to become his wife, to be Mrs. Emery Summers. But, Tristan didn’t hold up his end of the bargain. Whether it was second thoughts, cold feet or the fact that he couldn’t keep his eyes or his hands off other women, Tristan was Emery’s past. He could never be her future.

  “Go Emmy, go Emmy!”

  “Stop it Ken, your cabbage patch is awful,” Emery laughed.

  “You are on a roll, sis,” Kenny said, reaching for Emery and giving her a hug.

  “Thanks, Kennedy.”

  Emery followed as they walked through the front of the house of Kennedy’s four-star restaurant, LeBeau. Kennedy was a master chef and LeBeau was the talk of the town. People lined up to feast on her cuisine; dignitaries and celebrities alike made it a point of dining at LeBeau regularly. Kennedy had done very well for herself.

  “What are you going to do to celebrate,” Kennedy asked as they entered her back office.

  “I was invited out to dinner, but I don’t think I’m going,” Emery replied.

  “Evan?” Kennedy asked as she sat down behind her desk.

  “Yes, Evan. He wants me to meet him at the Top of the Tower tonight.”

  “Eww, that place is nice,” Kennedy squealed. “The food is almost as good as mine, almost.”

  “I’m not going though,” Emery replied.

  “I would ask you why not, but I already know the answer to that question,” Kennedy replied, leaning back heavily in her chair. “It’s always the same thing with you, Emery… self-sabotage.”

  “Nobody asked you, Ken,” Emery huffed as she sat down in the seat across from her sister.

  “Am I wrong, though? Huh, Emery?” Kennedy demanded.

  Emery popped her lips and folded her arms across her chest in a huff. Emery crossed her legs and the top one bobbed in the air as her eyes locked with Kennedy’s.

  “I don’t trust him, Kennedy, it’s just that simple,” Emery said.

  “But you fucked him though, and that’s not like you,” Kennedy replied.

  “It was the damn scotch,” Emery rebuffed. “Shouldn’t have been drinking like that no way. So, since I did screw him on the first ‘date’, big ass air quotes, I’m sure Evan sees me as just another brainless woman giving up the goods too soon.”

  Emery huffed again, more frustrated with herself than anything Kennedy said. She was not that kind of woman at all; quick to give of herself in that way. Emery was embarrassed that she stooped to that level, giving in to Evan’s fineness.

  “Oh, so this second date is about getting back in your drawers,” Kennedy asked.

  “Mmhmm,” Emery scoffed.

  “Girl, then why take you to the Tower if that’s all he wants?”

  “I don’t know, Ken, maybe to feed me first then, you know.”

  “Sounds like a whole lot of trouble just to get I your panties, Emery.” Kennedy answered. “He was good though, I mean, a good lay?”

  The rushing of heat to Emery’s cheeks answered before she did.

  “Mmhmm,” Kennedy clapped. “But that’s a bad thing though, right?”

  “That’s not the point, Kennedy, you know that,” Emery clapped back.

  “What is the point, Emery? So, what? You gave into your desire the first night you two were together. That’s not a crime. And maybe, Evan really likes you and wants you to know it’s more than just a wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

  Emery didn’t reply. Her top crossed leg kicked faster, and she refolded her arms. Kennedy may have a point, but Emery wasn’t going to make her head bigger than it already was. Instead, Emery stewed on what her sister said.

  “It won’t hurt to take a chance, Emery,” Kennedy concluded. “You’ve punished yourself enough for Tristan and every other man you let into your heart. Give Evan a chance. If he proves to be a dipshit, stick him with the bill and leave.”

  Kennedy spoke her peace and got up from her chair.

  “You think you’re smart, huh,” Emery said, watching her sister walk to the office door.

  “You know I’m right. Now, I’ve got a kitchen to get back to,” Kennedy replied.

  “You could feed me,” Emery called after. “I could skip the date and eat here with you!”

  “Nope!” Kennedy quipped, stopping her forward movement and turning back towards her sister.

  “Ugh, you get on my nerves.”

  “Love you too, sis.”

  Chapter Seven

  Returning home, Emery thought about what Kennedy said. It would be easy to discount her younger sister’s words. At the same time, Kennedy was right about a few things. Nobody knew Emery like Kennedy did. Ken was her closest friend and confidante. They were sisters, true enough, but Kennedy meant more than that to Emery. Maybe she was allowi
ng the failed relationships of her past to keep her from moving forward; not necessarily with Evan, but with any man. Tristan hurt her. He hurt Emery bad. It was the promises he didn’t keep that pained her the most, and Emery didn’t want to fall victim to that again. Shielding her heart was what Emery knew how to do, especially after dealing with a man like Tristan.

  Emery stretched out across her bed. When the phone chirped, Emery figured it was Evan trying to see if she’d made a decision. With her lip turned, Emery looked at the phone.

  We need to talk. I know you are upset with me but give Samantha a chance. She wants a chance to get to know you all. Call me, please. I really want us to talk this out.

  “Tuh,” Emery muttered, “I just bet she does.”

  Not the least bit interested in talking to her mother or giving Samantha a chance, Emery lifted herself from the bed and crossed the room to the master closet. She was not about to sit at home with her mother calling or texting every fifteen minutes because she wanted to talk. Should have talked about Samantha thirty years ago, Emery complained as she turned on the light in her massive closet. Fingering several outfits, Emery strode through looking for just the right something to wear. Meeting Evan might not be ideal, but it was sure better than being aggravated by Felicia and thoughts of Samantha McLemore, whoever the hell she was.

  “Can’t go wrong with a little black dress,” Emery mused pulling out one of her favorite, Korto Momolu, designs. Korto was Emery’s favorite Black designers. And wearing a Momolu, always made Emery feel hawt.

  As she walked out of her closet, Emery looked at the clock on her mirrored side table. Evan was expecting her at the Top of the Tower in an hour.

  “This is probably the worst idea I’ve had in a long time,” Emery fussed as she made her way into the master bath. If she hurried, she would be a little late, fashionably late.

  The Top of the Tower in downtown Atlanta was one of the most beautiful restaurants in the area. The ambiance created by the circular dining space that spun slowly allowing all of downtown and beyond to be seen through its practically seamless floor to ceiling glass windows was breathtaking, to say the least. The silken cream linens that graced the intimate roundtables, and the high-back button-tufted chairs, in a matching shade served to establish comfortably intimate conversation spaces. The glow of the candelabras that adorned each table Evan checked his watch discreetly. He didn’t want to look as though he was anxious to see if Emery would come. Evan hoped that she would; however, considering the circumstances, that was yet to be decided.

  Evan’s eyes trailed across the circular space. He couldn’t lie to himself. If Emery didn’t come, Evan would be disappointed. Seeing the other couples in the room, enjoying themselves as he sat alone reminded Evan of how much he missed having that special someone to share his life with. Smoothing out his tie, Evan considered how much longer he should wait. Emery was more than ten minutes late. It would have been nice if she would have called and either confirmed or rejected his dinner proposal, but she hadn’t done that. He was left to wonder and wait. But Evan didn’t plan on waiting too much longer. Despite Evan’s desire for Emery, he refused to be made a fool of.

  Having strolled up the carpeted hallway, Emery stood at the entrance to the restaurant. Her eyes scanned the room just as Evan’s had. Emery had heard about the Top of the Tower, but seeing it for the first time, the restaurant was amazing. People had described it before, but it was so much more seeing it firsthand. The candles, flowers, the darkened night sky visible from every window was spectacular. And then she saw him; sitting at a table immediately in front of one of the windows. Even from a distance, Evan was beautiful. Emery didn’t know whether describing a man as beautiful was allowed, but at that moment, he was just that. The profile of his strong features was undeniable although Emery was a distance away.

  But when Evan turned and found her, the smile that entranced his lips made Emery smile too. Standing to his feet, Evan sauntered towards her; giving Emery the opportunity to admire his masculine ensemble. The black Italian cut suit framed his body to perfection and the smoothness of his glide showed Evan to be confident. His smile didn’t fade as he approached Emery. Stepping into the hallway where she stood, their eyes connected, and each held the other in a penetrating gaze.

  “Emery, Evan uttered, taking a slight step back to appreciate the fullness of her, “You look...” Emery’s hair was swept to one side, with a low bang, slightly hiding her brown doe-shaped eyes. The one-shoulder black knee-length dress she wore, accentuated her curves and highlighted her shapely legs. The Manolo Blahnik jet-black stilettos along with the single strand diamond bracelet and solitaire diamond earrings polished her ensemble exquisitely. It was just enough sparkle to highlight her cinnamon chocolate features.

  “And so do you,” Emery flushed. His eyes smiled and the heat racing through Emery intensified. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she heard her self-doubting thoughts say. When Evan turned, never losing her with his eyes, Emery slid her arm under his and he helped her step down into the moving dining area. Emery’s smile widened as she felt the floor turning slowly underneath her feet. The feeling wasn’t jarring in the least, but it took getting used to.

  “Shall we,” Evan said, holding her close as they crossed the room. Emery felt like everyone in the room watched them as they made their way to the table. Evan was the perfect gentleman, ensuring her chair was pulled out and then making sure Emery was comfortably seated before taking the chair across from her. The only thing that pulled Emery’s gaze from Evan was the awe-inspiring view from the window that sat in front of. Across the room where she first stood, the view was spectacular. Sitting at the table and seeing off into the distance; night lights darting the landscape only matched by the brilliance of a starlit night, was stunning.

  “Can you believe this,” Emery said excitedly as the turn of the room gently changed the scenery.

  “And it’s still not as beautiful as you are,” Evan replied.

  Although not prone to blushing easily, Evan managed to keep heat in Emery’s cheeks.

  “I thought you were going to stand me up,” Evan said, enjoying how much Emery appreciated the atmosphere.

  “I was,” Emery answered, her eyes moving from the window to Evan. She watched to see what his reaction to her blatant honesty would be. Whether his ego would be bruised or whether he would take it like a man.

  “May I ask why,” Evan asked, leaning in seeking to hold Emery’s gaze again.

  Emery nor Evan expected the conversation to get heavy so quickly. Yet, neither of them was willing to back down because apparently what they were discussing was on both of their minds.

  Emery batted her eyes, and steepled her fist under her chin as she spoke.

  “Regret,” she replied.

  Evan was intrigued by her reply. His thick eyebrow lifted. “Why?”

  Evan thought he might have an idea what she meant, but he learned very early on never to assume. He would rather hear it directly from Emery than to speculate as to what she meant.

  For a brief moment, Emery’s eyes dropped. And then slowly lifted but not towards Evan. Her gaze returned to the window.

  Just as she prepared to respond, the sommelier approached the table. His presence bought Emery some time to get her thoughts together. Evan preselected the wine, but he wanted to gain Emery’s approval before it was served. Evan almost asked the waiter to come back in a few minutes, considering the intensity of the conversation they were embarking upon. But seeing Emery’s face and the trepidation that hadn’t been there before, having this break in tension might be best.

  “Ma’am, sir,” the sommelier greeted, “Mr. Stanton selected a fine Rothschild Chateau Laffite for the opening meal. May I pour, ma’am?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Emery replied offering the gentleman a smile. As the sommelier poured, Emery stole a lance in Evan’s direction. She wanted to be honest with him. At the same time, she didn’t want to end the evening before it really got
started. She weighed her options as to how she could say what she truly needed to say. Evan’s attention was temporary with the pour of the wine. He watched as the server offered Emery a taste prior to the full pour. Evan then watched as Emery lifted the glass first swirling the blonde liquid in the glass, then lifting it to her nose for a polite sniff. He watched as her senses responded to the wine's bouquet. When she pressed her lips to the glass, Evan mindlessly bit his bottom lip. He thought about kissing Emery and how her lips felt on his skin. After taking a sip, Emery sat the glass on the table and nodded to the server, giving him permission to complete the pour. His eyes remained locked on the fullness of her lips.

  “Thank you,” Emery uttered. She felt Evan watching her. He was still biting his lip. When his eyes moved higher Evan caught himself and without turning in the sommelier’s direction, thanked and excused him. Bowing slightly, the server took his leave.

  “Let’s make a toast,” Evan suggested. He knew where the conversation was left. At the same time, Evan wanted to reassure Emery that she could speak freely with him.

  “Okay, what should we toast to,” Emery asked intrigued.

  Lifting his glass and waiting until Emery did the same, Evan proposed the toast.

  “To honesty without judgment; to a willingness to listen and not defend, and to be open to the possibilities.”

  “You really thought about that didn’t you,” Emery coyly replied.

  “I try to make a habit of thinking before I say or do anything,” Evan replied. He spoke with intention that was not lost on Emery.

  Emery lifted her glass and clinked lightly against Evan’s. They both took sips from their glasses and Emery enjoyed the taste of the wine Evan chose.

  “You were saying something before the server came, about regret,” Evan proposed.

  “Oh, that,” Emery answered sitting her glass on the table.

  “Talk to me, Emery,” Evan said, extending his hand across the table and lightly touching hers that rested there. She closed her eyes as a current of connectivity moved between them. Slowly, she opened them and found Evan’s eyes hooded as though he felt it, too.