Page 18 of The Don's Virgin Obsession
“I didn’t think you’d hate it this much.”
“I don’t hate it. It just don’t do nothing for me.”
She studied me. “None of them?”
I left that alone.
Because the answer wasn’t in that room.
I left out the back.
No cameras. No crowd. Just my Lamborghini Urus sitting where I left it.
I stepped out and saw Alana Brooks before I even made it there.
She was leaning by my door, paper in her hand, wearing a cream business suit.
She smiled first.
I stopped a few feet from her. “Don’t tell me you were in line. You hop the gate?”
She laughed. “No. I slid in with another car.”
I looked her over. She was thicker than I remembered, and I couldn’t tell if she had a BBL.
“You too fine to be desperate.” I continued to size her with my eyes.
She turned up her nose, clearly offended. “I’m not desperate. I’m playing the game.”
“This shit is definitely a game. I ain’t ask for this.”
“I’m not here for the fiscal. I came to find out if you think we had chemistry during our interview.”
I smirked. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
I adjusted my watch, eyes still on her. “Thought I wasn’t your type. That’s what you said when I was working a nine-to-five.”
That memory came back quick.
My homeboy tried to line us up. I had just got off work, still in my uniform, ashy as fuck from carrying cases all day. I pulled up, spoke, kept it light. I wasn’t looking to hook up, but my homeboy kept pressing.
She was cool…. Just not checking for me.
I ain’t care.
But I found out later what it really was.
She only dealt with rich niggas.
That was enough for me.
I kept building, and I had women.
So now, seeing her standing here acting like something unfinished was there…
That part was funny.
