Page 22 of A King’s Obsession

I'd never met Malachi's best friend, but I'd heard enough about him to be curious. If he was anywhere near as fine as Malachi, maybe Jru needed to realize Montae wasn't the last man God created. Preferably, the next one could have some money. A lot of it.

“Why you looking at me like that?” Jru asked, catching me staring.

I smiled innocently. “No reason. Can't I admire my best friend without getting interrogated?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not when you got that sneaky-ass smile on your face. I know you, Ashlynn, and I don't trust you.”

I laughed, grabbing my purse from the bed. “You shouldn't, but right now you need to worry about getting that job instead of trying to read my mind.”

She followed me toward the door, still shaking her head. “See, that's exactly why I don't trust your ass.”

“Girl, walk,” I told her, reaching back to grab her hand. “We got somewhere to be.”

***

The club Malachi told us to meet them at wasn't theirs. Their spot was still being finished, so he and Ezra had been checking out different clubs around Westhaven, peeping the competition before their own place opened. Apparently, Jru's unofficial interview was happening while they did it.

The place had a nice atmosphere, with low lighting, plush sections, and a long bar stretching across one wall. Music rolled through the room while servers moved between tables, and the crowd was just thick enough to give the place some energy.

Jru leaned closer as we walked inside, scanning the room. “They interviewing me here?”

“Girl, just go with it,” I told her, searching for Malachi.

She gave me a sideways glance. “You don't know what's going on either, do you?”

“No, but I look confident, so nobody can tell,” I replied, making her laugh as we continued through the club.

Then I spotted Malachi sitting in a section toward the back, looking good enough to make me forget what we'd come there for. Black shirt, expensive watch, beard disrespectfully perfect. Whew. That man.

“There go your sugar daddy,” Jru murmured, following my gaze.

“Don't hate,” I told her, smiling.

“I'm not,” she laughed, but her attention shifted when the man beside Malachi turned slightly.

And baby, when I saw him, I nearly stopped walking.

Malachi had left out some very important fucking information. Ezra King was fine as hell. Not cute or *he looks good for his age* fine. I meant fine, fine. He had to be around six-three, caramel-brown, broad-shouldered, and built. Gray threaded through his hair and beard, making forty-one look entirely too damn good. His eyes were some kind of hazel-green that seemed to change with the lighting, and everything about him screamed money and authority.

“Which one is Malachi?” Jru asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Black shirt,” I answered, nodding toward the section.

Her gaze followed mine before settling on the man sitting beside him. “And who's that?”

“Ezra,” I replied, watching her expression. When she asked if that was Malachi's friend, I nodded, waiting for some kind of reaction. She gave me absolutely nothing. Damn, tough crowd.

Then I glanced back toward Ezra and caught him looking directly at Jru. His eyes moved over her once before returning to her face, lingering long enough to make me raise an eyebrow. Well, well, well. Maybe I wasn't the only one who thought my girl looked good tonight.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing Jru's hand and pulling her toward the section.

Jru glanced down at our joined hands before looking up at me, her eyebrows pulling together. “Why are you smiling like that?”

I tried to straighten my face, but it was too late. “I'm not smiling,” I lied, tugging her forward.

“Ashlynn,” she warned, dragging out my name as she resisted just enough to make me turn around. “What are you up to?”

I laughed, tightening my grip on her hand. “Girl, walk. You got an interview to worry about, and I ain't about to let you stand here interrogating me.”