Page 24 of Brown Sugar
Tommy bitches me out minutes after leaving the Jamz interview. Me and my men are driving Kiana to her penthouse when my phone rings and Tommy’s number pops up on my screen.
“You have no authority to dictate her events schedule,” he snaps the second I answer. “So unless the team at Jamz are lying bastards, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
“There was an incident on the rooftop?—”
“Believe me, I heard all about the incident. It was an accident. But, Tyson, you had no authority to end a press event. You are Kiana’s security. You arenother manager.”
I grit my teeth. “Then maybe as her manager you should be looking out for her best interests. You’ve got this girl overworked, underfed, and overexposed in public settings that are questionable at best. Downright dangerous at worst.”
“Do you know who you’re talking to? I’ll be the decider of that. Know your place!”
“Know yours,” I rumble as my temper pulses to life and my fists draw tight. “Talk to me like that again and I’ll knock your teeth out. I don’t care who the fuck you are.”
I hang up on him before he can bitch me out some more.
In the absence of my thick rumble comes an awkward silence. The rest of my security team know better than to utter a word.
But it’s Kiana’s reaction I’m more cognizant of. She’s sitting across from me in the limousine we’ve taken today, eyeing me like she’s never seen me before.
I might be pissed the fuck off from what’s happened, but her curious stare has a unique power—it makes my stomach clench and unclench from uncertainty.
I scratch at my coarse beard and grunt, “What?”
The almost smile I’d spotted earlier makes its return on her full lips. “Want to come over for takeout?”
The offer’s so unexpected, completely out of left field.
“Takeout?” I repeat gruffly.
“Yes, Goliath, takeout. As in food. As in dinner. I’m starving. There’s this great Peruvian spot that delivers to my penthouse,” she explains, reclining in her seat, head tipped back. “I’ve got no other plans thanks to you. And Amari’s busy working for another client.”
…she wants company.
Anytime assets have offered to take me out for a drink or invited me over their home out of gratitude, I’ve declined.
I’m well known in my field for more reasons than one. While I’m known for my expertise and skill, I’m also known as a cold, detached asshole for a reason.
I’ve never liked making things personal.
Work is work.
Just about everyone in my life is kept at arm’s length—except Jaxon, and now that I’ve lost him, I’ve realized why it’s necessary I need to keep people out.
But I’ve never met someone who’s so damn difficult to say no to.
Peering at princess after she makes her offer, I find that, for the first time in my life, the wordnois no longer in my vocabulary.
“Alright,” I answer stiffly. Then, to rationalize it with work, I add, “That will give us time to go over the rest of this week’s schedule.”
Kiana’s smile remains as she rolls her eyes. Probably some funny thought in her head. Possibly her picking up on my hesitation.
We ride the elevator up to her penthouse to the disapproving stare from the same doorman who had given me hell days ago. We’re outside her door when my phone rings a second time in the last half hour.
“Go ahead,” I say. “I’ve got to take this.”
“Bison, what are you doing, my friend?” Hal says in place of hello. “I just heard from Tommy, and he’s upset. He said you threatened to punch his teeth out?”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t have time for this conversation. Call me back tomorrow.”