Page 28 of Mr. Blackwood

“What do you want from me, Jabari?”

“I enjoy your companionship, Cami. Can’t that be enough for now?”

“I guess,” she mumbled and turned her attention out of the window.

“You could be over there getting your panties wet, but instead you’re gonna pout like a child and have an attitude for what?”

“Maybe I don’t want my panties to be wet tonight,” she replied.

“You remember that was your call, not mine.”

I glanced at my phone and saw a call coming in. I took the call and discussed an upcoming business negotiation, pushing Camilla to the back of my mind for a minute. When I finished with the call, she was pouting even more.

I leaned forward and gripped her chin. I tugged it just enough to open her mouth, and I sucked her lips. When I pulled back, her eyes were moist, and she was breathless. “Ease up, beautiful. Tonight is all about you, and I don’t want you carrying anything heavy. I’m a businessman who takes nothing for granted. I’ve been thinking about you the entire time I was away, but I wasn’t afforded the luxury to contact you. I had to be focused at all times, and contacting you was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had to put my feelings on a shelf while I was away. Contacting you would have pushed everything out of the window, because I would have been thinking about you every moment of the day—wanting to be with you, to taste you, to spoil you, and to fuck you,” I whispered as I nipped the shell of her ear.

She shivered. “Really?”

“I would never lie to you.”

We pulled up to the Imperial Hotel Atlanta, a hotel that I owned and had recently opened six months earlier. When Creed pulled into the private lower portal, a personal butler waited to escort us to the presidential suite.

“How did you get white-glove service at the Imperial?” Camilla asked, impressed, as we took the elevator up to the Presidential Suite. We hadn’t stopped at the front desk to check in or get keys.

“I own it,” I replied.

She turned her wide-eyed gaze to me, with her mouth opened. “What part of Atlanta do you not own?”

“Stick around, and you’ll find out,” I replied as we stepped into the suite.

Camilla took in the cream interior with one royal blue velvet wall and the cream velvet couches with royal blue pillows. A large screen TV was mounted over the marble fireplace, and two floor-to-ceiling windows flanked either side of the fireplace. They overlooked Buckhead and gave a beautiful view of downtown Atlanta and Midtown.

Camilla knelt and rubbed her hand on the plush carpet that had infinity designs handwoven into the fabric. She stood up and looked at the same designs on the wall.

“What does the infinity symbol represent for you?”

I hadn’t expected that question, and it reminded me that she was a reporter and always on the hunt for information. “Loyalty. I will always be loyal to what matters to me until the day I breathe my last.”

“Family? Money? Your business?”

“Whatever has meaning in my life. I’ve told you—I don’t have family.”

“What about your friends? They’re not family?”

“They’re friends.” I felt she was trying to catch me in a lie, but I wasn’t about to get caught slipping. I had been living the life I led for too long to slip up now. The life I created was crafted off the truth, so there was nothing I was worried about.

I turned around as the butler uncorked a bottle of Krug Clos d’Ambonnay champagne for us and poured us both a glass.

“Sir, your wardrobe for the evening has been steamed and is waiting for you in your room,” he stated, walking to the bedroom and throwing the double doors open for me.

“Thank you, Raymond.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Blackwood.”

When he left, I walked inside the bedroom and discarded the suit that I was wearing and headed for the shower.

“Why are you changing?” she asked as I adjusted the water temperature.

“I was in a couple of meetings before I met up with you.”