Page 22 of Mr. Blackwood

“Tell me one thing about you that should be good but can easily become bad when not managed,” he demanded.

“Responsibility. Sometimes I have a hard time delegating things to other people, and if I’m not careful it turns into control issues. Also, opening up to people because of how my relationship with my parents is. I have a hard time feeling close to anyone, and because of that I can come off as aloof or frigid.”

“Is it that way with your friends?”

“The only friend I have is my best friend, Shana, from college, and she’s used to me. She knows what to expect and not place any expectations on me. I’m also close to my sister, who is a lot like me. What about you? Who are you close to?”

“I have three people that I deem are my friends, and we’re close. I trust them with my life.”

“Who are they?”

“Jett, Regent, and Kanaan.”

I recognized their names immediately. “Wait, are you talking about Jett Barter, the insurance magnate of Barter & Co.; Regent Knight, the lumber hotshot from Knight Atlantic Industries; and Kanaan Fields of the logistics company that dominates air, land, and water, Fields Supply Chain? Those are your friends?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled and smirked.

“I thought those men in the lobby looked familiar that day. I guess the rich and famous really do keep a close-knit circle and only rub elbows with people whose money looks like theirs.”

My mind was blown that he was friends with those men. If I could get in with Jabari the way I truly wanted to and get the story Sullivan Investments wanted, then I could get his friends to do a feature story too.

Being among America’s black elite was something special, and those men were nothing short of black royalty.

“It just so happens that we’re friends. We know people who aren’t on the same level we are.”

“Mm. I’ll bet. Like your maids, gardeners, personal chefs—you mean those types of people?”

“Nah. You’re tripping,” he replied with a light chuckle.

“Well, are you close to your family?” I asked, biting into another slice of cake as he sipped his martini.

I noticed that his open look suddenly turned hooded and drawn, like someone had pulled the shades down over his eyes.

I hated that he never talked about his personal life anyway. He always managed to find a way to distract me from that line of conversation. I wouldn’t continue being deterred, though.

When I kept staring at him and didn’t back down, he spoke up.

“My mother passed when I was younger. My father is—out there somewhere, and it’s just him, no other family.”

“Did you grow up with money?”

He bobbed his head and pulled his fingers through his beard as he watched me closely before he narrowed his gaze.

“What?” I asked.

“Am I the subject of a story you’re working on?”

“No. Why would you ask that?”

His voice took on a deeper, warning tone as he answered. “You’re asking really personal questions.”

“I’m just trying to get to know you better, the same way you’ve done me. Would you be averse to being the subject of an article in my magazine though?”

“Hell. Yeah.”

This time his tone took me aback. “Why?”

“I keep people out not just because I value my privacy, but to protect my empire and those who I do allow close to me. When people feel they know you, they think they have an advantage. I’ll never give anyone the upper hand.”