Page 70 of Forbidden Fruit
“Green.”
A faint smile touches his lips. “I’m proud of you,” he says softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“For saying green?” I manage, a small, nervous laugh escaping.
He shakes his head. “For thinking about it before you answered.”
He presses a slow, lingering kiss to my mouth, then takes my hand. Together, we move toward the kitchen, and the moment I see her, poised, elegant, I understand exactly where Calvin gets his composure from.
Calvin’s mother sits at the marble island, a porcelainteacup balanced gracefully between her fingers. She’s stunning, an elegant, beautiful Black woman whose presence fills the room without her needing to say a word. Her skin glows against the soft cream of her silk blouse, and every detail of her outfit whispers wealth rather than shouts it. Diamond studs catch the light when she turns her head, and her perfume, something delicate and expensive, wraps the air in quiet sophistication.
She looks up as we enter.
“Calvin,” she says, her voice smooth as satin. Then her gaze drifts to me. For a moment, I feel as though she can see every secret I’ve ever tried to hide.
I manage a smile, even as my pulse races. My fingers twitch at my side, and I clasp them together, trying to keep them still.
“Mom,” Calvin says as a greeting, bending down to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful as ever. I got you some flowers.”
She beams, taking the bouquet from him. She inhales the blooms and smiles. “Gratitude and mother’s love,” she says fondly. “You boys are just like your father. Thank you, my love.”
She pulls him into another hug, and I can’t help but notice how small she is compared to Calvin. It makes me wonder if he takes after his father’s size.
Her gaze lands on me again. And she smiles.
“You must be Blair,” she exclaims, pulling me into a warm, unexpected hug before I can even react.
I freeze for a second, stunned that she already knows who I am. Words fail me. I must look confused, because she chuckles softly as she pulls back.
“Calvin called earlier to let me know he was bringing someone home for dinner,” she explains with a knowingsmile. “I had to drag your name out of him, but it’s so lovely to meet you.”
“You too, Mrs…”
“Oh, no. You call me Jewel,” she interrupts with a grin.
“I wouldn’t dare, ma’am,” I say, and her smile widens.
“Then call me Mama Jewel, it’s how everyone else calls me. Come, let’s sit and get to know each other.” She points to the chair right beside the one she’s been using.
I’m just settling into my seat when someone’s voice cuts through the room like a dropped glass. “Well, it’s about time you fucking showed up. I almost thought I had to go drag you out of your office.”
The crassness feels absurd in a house this beautiful, in front of a woman who looks like she was woven from calm and silk. My head snaps up. A man is filling the doorway, carrying a bag of groceries. He’s tall, maybe even taller than Calvin, with sleeves rolled up, tattoos coiling down both arms in intricate, dark patterns. His brows lift comically when his gaze lands on me, confusion flickering across his face before he looks straight at Calvin.
“What the fuck?” he blurts, shock plain in his voice.
Before Calvin can say a word, Mama Jewel’s voice lands on him like a gavel. “Boy, you better watch your mouth in my house before I wash it out with soap. Don’t think you’re too old for that either.”
The man’s grin disappears in an instant. “Sorry, Mom,” he mutters, the sheepishness immediate.
Mom?
“Blair,” Calvin says smoothly, “meet my dumbass brother, Desmond.”
“Big brother, don’t you forget it,” Desmond shoots back with a cocky smirk.
My eyes go wide. This is the Irish twin Calvinmentioned? The one who owns Luxe? I wasn’t expecting a white man.
“Man, fuck you,” Calvin shoots back, but he’s smiling as he stalks across the kitchen and pulls his brother into a hug.
