Jahleel (20 page)

“So, you think I’m just wasting my time?”

Patting her thigh, I told her, “If you want my honest opinion: yes. You can do so much better.”

Amanda was tugging on my other arm, so I turned to her, “What, woman?”

“What did he say?” she demanded with eager eyes.

“He wants me to meet him in his office in fifteen minutes.”

“To shag?”

I shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Would you shag him?”

“
Well
…he smells bloody awesome.”

“Looks awesome, too.” She grinned in agreement. “So?”

“So, what?” I played dumb.

“Are you going?!” she snapped, seeing through my game.

“I dunno!”

Except, I
did
know.

Fifteen minutes later, I turned the knob on Chad’s office door. He was waiting for me, perched at the edge of his desk in the centre of his disorganized office. Opened boxes of knickknacks were piled about. Seemed he hadn’t gotten around to sorting out this part of the club yet.

Closing the door, I leaned back against it, hands still grasping the knob.

The heat and intensity Chad exuded was all-encompassing in his stance with his arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles, eyes hard on me.

Keeping a distance, I waited for him to speak first.

“I don’t do public displays,” he broke the intense silence, an edge to his tone.

“Me neither. Sorry about that,” I apologized, not sorry in the least. “You mad?”

“Yes.” His shoulders jerked up in a shrug. “But I’ll get over it.” Then he added so quietly I almost didn’t hear him, “You tasted so good…”

“You too.”
Lame, much? Grow a pair, Kia!

“Why’d you do it?”

“Because you smell amazing?”

“I take daily showers,” he deadpanned. “Twice a day, actually.”

“You’re being a jerk.”

Sighing, Chad uncrossed his hands and pressed them palms-down on his wooden desk. “Saskia, I’m feeling you, on a serious level. And I think I’ve been pretty damn obvious about it too. But you must know, JK’s my brother. I love him, respect him, honour him. So I would never do anything to fuck him over.”

Releasing the door handle, I flung a frustrated hand up in the air. “The bloody hell does JK have to do with
anything
?”

“Everything,” he acknowledged, and there was this edge to his voice again. “Because you want him, and you want me. That won’t work, Saskia.”

“Right. Except,
he
doesn’t want me, so what’s the point of this conversation?”

I was far beyond tired of hearing Jahleel’s name now, to be honest. Who would’ve thought, right? But Jahleel didn’t want me and there was nothing I could do to change that.

Chad smelled amazing, looked amazing, and I wanted to shag him. Not a relationship, no. Just a fuck. That’s all. So, how the hell did Jahleel fit into this again?

“Listen,” Chad pushed off of his desk and smoothed out his already straightened jacket. “I’m not touching you again unless you promise me you won’t go chasing after JK. If you’re mine, you’re mine and you’re marked. I don’t share my women. Not even if it’s casual.”

As he made his declaration, he strode over to me, and now he hovered over me—tall, hot and downright beautiful.

I curled my fingers into girl fists and kept them stiff at my sides to restrain myself from grabbing his face and bringing his lips down to mine. I stopped myself because I wasn’t sure if I could do what he required.

See, there were times when I hated Jahleel and wanted nothing to do with him or even hearing about him. Then, there were times when I couldn’t function at all until I found myself asking someone, anyone, about him.

At the moment, yes, I hated him. But I knew without a doubt in a day or two, I would be singing a different song.

Even though he swore not to touch me again, Chad raised his right hand to my face and gently traced his forefinger around my nostrils that were no doubt flaring. “So?” he prompted.

“Huh?” I stalled, my breath picking up at his touch.

“Tell me, Saskia.
Please
.” The timbre of his voice deepened as he husked out, “I’m dying to taste you again.”

My chest rose as I inhaled to speak but before I could, my cellphone pinged. Of course, I didn’t have to check it right now, but it was an excuse to not answer Chad right away.

With a frustrated sigh, he took a step back when I retrieved my cellphone from my pocket. There was a text message from none other than Jahleel on the screen.

It’s not working…

“Just go,” Chad ordered in a quiet, though strained voice.

Did it make sense refusing to leave when I knew I couldn’t give him what he exacted? No. So I turned to leave his office, my mind immediately off him and his amazing scent, and instantly fixated on Jahleel.

After an entire week, he messaged me. Just like that, it felt as if it had been only last night since I’d fallen asleep to the rapid staccatos of his heart. Nothing mattered anymore but him, because he messaged me. He was letting me know the platonic Saskia fix he made the visit for last Tuesday wasn’t working.

I was still on his mind.

Meandering down the walkway with a silly grin, I tapped out a text.

Sorry 4 being such a pain in the head.

__Ping__

Like a bad migraine that no amount of aspirin can drive away.

Sucks.

——

Gud thoughts or bad?

__Ping__

Always good ;)

——

How so? We created no memories.

__Ping__

That’s what daydreams & fantasies r 4.

Wanna call 2 hear ur voice but am in a club.

——

Me 2.

Wish u were here.

__Ping__

Wish I was there.

——

I want u, JK.

More than what u r giving.

__Ping__

U need 2 get outta my head.

Can’t concentrate. Keep seeing ur lips.

——

No can do.

Either am in ur head or am in ur bed.

Choose.

__Ping__

Sassy…

——

Do u want me?

Say yes…

*fingers crossed*

__Ping__

Not going there.

TTYL

I was scowling at my cellphone, heading back to our booth, when I was grabbed by the arm and yanked to a corner. I raised my startled eyes up to Lion’s infuriated face.

Oh crap.

“What did I tell you ‘bout public appearances?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly!” he barked at me. “How much do you know ‘bout Indija’s personal life?”

Oh Jesus, we were back to this again. Always making me feel like a high school student to bring his points across.

“Only what she wants the public to know,” I answered.

Indija was a world class vocalist, greater than I could ever imagine to be, idolized by each and every music artiste there is, male and female alike. Lion believed she was the epitome of what every female artiste should be, so he was forever pointing out her perfection to me. He wasn’t aiming to change me into her, no, because she was a paragon of class and elegance. I was the complete opposite—raw and intense. But he used her to illustrate how keeping one’s personal life personal positively impacted one’s career progression.

“Right,” he concurred approvingly. “Why?”

“Because the world’s attention is on her as a product, her music and her hard work and not on her personal life, because her personal life is none of the world’s business. Personal means
personal
.”

“So you
do
listen when I speak then?” he patronized me.

“I’m not a dumb twat!”

“Then stop fuckin’ actin’ like one!” he barked back. “What happened earlier with Chad, never do shit like that again, you feel me?”

Because I knew I acted like a dumb twat, I didn’t argue. “Yeah.”

Nodding his head in the direction of Chad’s office, he continued, “And on to your personal life, stop bein’ a fuckin’ chicken head with those two friends.”

Did he just call me a…?

My hands balled into fists as I bit out, “
Chicken head
? You only call women you’re disgusted and repulsed with chicken heads.”

One shoulder jerked in a callous shrug as he dipped into his pocket for his cellphone. “I call it like I see it, Kia.”

Closing the space between us, I stepped up and chucked him. He barely budged. “Fuck you,
Lion
!”

Dragging his attention from dialling on his cell, he looked at me and inquired, “Who are you?”

“What?”

“Who the
fuck
are you?”

Spine growing stiff, chin tilted up, I answered, “Saskia Day.”

“And who the hell is Saskia Day?”

“World renown, inimitable, one-of-a-kind pop/rock artiste, who, in a short span of five years, is sitting on 4 Grammys, 102 other awards out of 240 nominations, two platinum albums, and a net worth of 149mil,
for now
—because I’m only climbing, not sliding. I have the world by the balls. Women want to be me, girls idolize me, boys masturbate to my pictures, and men daydream of me as their woman. I’ve got
real
talent and I work
real
hard for every goddamn thing I own. I. Am. Saskia. Day.”

Three thirds of all that was said with feigned confidence, but I didn’t want Lion to think I was letting him down, so better to fake it than face it.

He lifted his unattended hand and grabbed my face so his eyes were glaring straight into mine. “Remember that the next time you try to pull a stunt like that again. You can lose it all in a flash if you don’t watch what the fuck you’re doin’. Feel me?”

His grip on my face tightened when I tried to move. It wasn’t to hurt or dominate me, but to discipline me as a caring guardian would, ensuring I got it through my thick scull.

“Also remember, before you decide to jump in Chad or JK’s bed and make a complete ass of yourself—like your friend Tiara who’s sendin’ her reputation to shit when her career’s just blowin’ up—JK and Chad were born into wealth, so they can do whatever the hell they want ‘cause they got nothin’ to lose. But you’re workin’ for yours.
Protect
what you’ve got and strive for more. Don’t throw it all away for a fuck. It’s
not
worth it.”

It’d been a while since Lion chastised me like this, because I rarely mess up. Lion was good at keeping his artistes in line and making sure there’s never any scandal surrounding our names. He wanted the music to be the focus. Even my ‘reality’ show was scripted to control the message.

Now seeing how monumentally pissed off he was, I realized I’ve been acting a fool for too long and he felt it was time to bring me back in line.

“Okay,” I humbly agreed. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“Not me, Kia,” he exhaled on a sigh, releasing his grip on my face. “Just yourself.”

Chapter Twelve

“W
hat’s with the walk?” I asked Amanda before chocking a spoonful of Haagen Daz Rocky Road into my mouth.

Once again I was sitting in my kitchen bored and eating junk food bound to give me a few unwanted pounds. But whenever I was bored, all I did was eat.

We were leaving in a couple of hours for London Fashion Week, and Amanda just came home, limping some, though sporting a stupid grin.

Straight to the refrigerator, she plucked out a cold bottle of water and sucked it down in one go before answering, “Zane.”