Always Wrong - Xyla Turner Page 0,29

weeks and during ovulation season and it had been three months. So far, nothing. There was no rush, but there was. It was like an internal clock was going off in my mind about how this needed to happen with her now for fear that the opportunity wouldn’t come again.

When would I find a woman that wasn’t looking for my money? Sheryl South was a fucking millionaire and could have whoever she wanted. Fuck, the woman could get a surrogate to have a baby, but she wanted to do it, and she was willing to do it with me. She was on board with my plan. This had to happen now and bloody soon.

Therefore, when I arrived this time, I met her at her job. According to Tammy, she was available after eleven-thirty in the morning, so I planned to take her out to lunch. My flight landed early, so I was there early and camped out in the lounge so she wouldn’t see me until the time. I swore her assistant to secrecy with a promise to do something nice for the holidays.

Many people walked in, spoke, grabbed a snack from the counter or food from the refrigerator, and left. Her assistant came in after a while and asked if she could get me anything. As we were chatting about what I didn’t need, two guys came in and saw us speaking, and I noticed that Tammy rolled her eyes.

“You all right?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the two men who were staring at me.

“Yeah,” she huffed. “They are just douchebags is all.”

The professional masks slipped off, and it seemed to be trouble in paradise. I thought it was with her, until Tammy spilled.

“They have a thing against South. Always talking shit about her. She don’t pay them any attention. According to them, she caught them talking shit, but she gave no consequences. Just told them to their jobs. I can’t stand them. Just a bunch of…”

She didn’t continue, but I knew what she wouldn’t say.

They were a bunch of pussies.

The two men were eyeing us but congregating around the microwave, whispering. Without much thought, I stood and went over to them.

“Hey, mate,” I greeted them. “I’m a companion of Ms. South and I do not like what I’m hearing. I hear it again and you’ll have to answer to me. Or just resign. I don’t really care.”

One of them had the nerve to laugh, so I stepped in his space and let my South Bronx days rise up and take charge.

“I am not laughing.” I stared the man in his eyes and refused to back down.

“W-what?” they stuttered, but looked around at each other.

“Any questions?” I followed up. “I figured.”

Whatever was in the microware, they left and they scurried out of there.

“Oh my gosh! What did you say to them?” Tammy rushed over to me.

“I didn’t like what I was hearing.” I sat back down as Sheryl came through the door. When she saw that I was there, she stopped in her tracks, and her mouth opened.

“W-what are you doing here?” she asked as her assistant decided it was time for her to make her exit.

Sheryl watched Tammy leave, then swung her head back to me.

“What’s going on?” She looked at her smart watch as if she was waiting for it to explain.

Standing, I methodically walked toward her as I explained, “I came early because I wanted to see you. There has been something off, and I wanted us to have some time to chat. It’s what we agreed upon. Therefore, your calendar was free for the rest of the afternoon, so I am here.”

Looking up at me, she nodded and said, “Why didn’t you let me know? I just spoke to you yesterday.”

“I didn’t want excuses. I wanted to solve this face to face.”

I kept my voice low, because the wrinkle in her eyebrow looked ready to pounce in defense or attack.

“What is there to solve?” she asked as she shifted her weight to one side and twisted her head to view me.

“That’s my question for you,” I asked. “I have reservations, let’s go.” I leaned down and kissed her on the lips, then moved past her to open the door for her to leave.

“Is this another one of your top-of-the-line places?” Sheryl asked while crossing the lounge threshold after pausing to momentarily stare at me.

“Something like that,” I chuckled as I followed her to her corner office.

Ship-ish was located on the top ten floors and