Page 42 of Rich and Rotten

“Can I hug you, Tata?” I asked, my cool breath, with hints of bourbon, caressing her earlobe.

She sucked in her breath and remained stiff as a wig from a beauty supply store. Her body froze, and she looked as though she couldn’t gather her words. I could tell she wanted me to, but was scared. If she allowed me to touch her, it might do more than just comfort her. It could break her open and maybe leave her even more terrified than she was now.

Gently removing one of my hands from the counter that cornered her, she grabbed the cup from the machine and looked at me briefly. “Good night, Nazir.”

I watched her gently close her laptop and leave the kitchen. I wanted to follow her but knew that wasn’t fair. Everything was my fault, and it was selfish to try and force anything. She had to want me as much as I still wanted her.

I went back into the living room and sat on the couch, resting my head back as I took in the view––a view I had witnessed so many nights before. The only difference was that I used to have her lying with me when I took them in...and I planned to have it that way again one day.

“Mrs. Sterling, don’t worry. We’ll get everything with your jet squared away. As a courtesy, we’re placing you on one of our company jets. Complimentary, of course,” the man said, his words coming out as quickly as the sweat pouring from his forehead.

He stammered over every word while nervously tugging at the collar of his blazer like it would save him. He looked like someone who realized he had fucked up...or someone who was hiding some shit.

Tatiana remained poised. Her shoulders back, head slightly tilted. My baby never let shit rattle her, so she would be damned if she allowed anyone see her upset. Even with her eyes hiding behind those dark shades, I could still see that look she was giving him––one he should have been blessed he didn’t have to see.

She didn’t speak, and her lack of words continued to send this man into a spiral with more sweat pouring from his pores. Yaya stood to her left, her arms crossed, glancing between her best friend and the man who I thought would turn into a puddle at any second.

“Why wasn’t I notified that there was an issue with the jet?” Tatiana asked, finally breaking her silence.

Her voice was even–calm with a hint of irritation laced within her words. The man blinked a few times like he thought it would be worse.

“We…we called, Mrs. Sterling. There must have been some miscommunication between the team. We’ve always been instructed to call.” He paused as he quickly snatched the iPad from the assistant standing beside him. “Carlotta.”

“I don’t remember Carlotta telling me anything about the jet.” Tatiana looked over at Yaya. “Did she say anything to you?”

Yaya raised both brows. “No. I would remember if she told me something like that. So, who exactly did you contact?”

For a second, he thought he had gotten her off his back. His face fell when he had both of them questioning him. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His silence irritated Yaya, who continued to give him looks until he finally parted those lips, and words fell out.

“We have the best team fixing the issue. In the meantime, do you want to rest in the lounge while the jet is being fueled?”

Tatiana exhaled through her nose. “Fix this shit.”

Without waiting for him to make false promises and apologies, she turned around and went toward the lounge. Yaya remained as she pulled her phone out to start confirming his story.

I followed behind Tatiana as she stepped into the lounge, plopping into one of the armchairs like she had finally processed what he had told her. She wore a pair of wide-leg sweats, designer sneakers, and an oversized crop top that hung just right off her shoulder. The travel Chanel bag was stuffed to the brim with her laptop and any and everything she would need for the flight. It sat slouched in the seat beside her like it knew everything wasn’t going as planned. We were supposed to be airborne, but now we were seated, waiting for them to tell us when the jet would be fueled.

I watched as she messed in her hair. It had been in a tight bun earlier when she iced homie back at the desk. Now, it was pulled loose, falling wild onto her shoulders as she ran her hand through it continuously. Frustration clouded the small space between us, and she didn’t have to remove her dark shades for me to know.

I took the seat across from her. Even with her shades on, she wouldn’t look at me. Not even a turn in my direction. I watched her. Every breath, the shift of her fingers through her curls. Last night was etched in my brain. The memory of being that close to her.

Close enough to kiss her neck, smell her curls, and feel her ass pressed against me. Her voice was shaky, breathless as she tried to stand firm on her beliefs, her walls contemplating coming down. Just enough for me to taste what I had been missing for years.

I wanted to be closer.

I wanted to be buried inside of her again––not just in the physical sense, but deep enough to remind her who we were and who we could be. I wanted to spell my apology into her skin.

Stroke for stroke.

Until she stopped trying to hate me and just let herself feel again.

Every time I looked at her, flashes hit me. Tatiana under me, arching her back because she needed more. Her mouth open, eyes filled with love and lust while locked on mine. Begging me to go deeper, like she needed to forget every lie I ever told.

I needed that.

She did, too.

Letting out a deep breath, she looked at her watch again. “I have a few meetings today. We were supposed to be in the air, and now I’m stuck here waiting for them to fuel the jet.”