Part 6 (2/2)

Baseem smiled as Goldie filled their gla.s.ses and filled his plate with more of the tender meat and rice. He dipped the biscuit in the warm gravy and sucked it down like he had not eaten in years. Goldie was filled with joy as she watched him chow down and lick his fingers. When they were done, Goldie stood and collected the plates and took them into the kitchen. Baseem walked to the bathroom and washed his hands and face. On his way back, Goldie met him right outside the kitchen door.

”Thank you for all your help today,” she stated, not looking up.

”I told you I got your back, and I mean that in every way. You need something...you or the baby, come to me first,” he gave her a firm gaze.

Goldie looked up and smiled. ”I know you got me,” she reached out and grabbed his arm.

”You better be careful where you put your hands,” his heart jumped a little.

”Boy, please...you ain't thinking about my hands, you know all those b.i.t.c.hes be on you. But, thank you for being a good friend,” she kissed him on the chin. ”You want something else to drink?” she said, turning back to the kitchen.

”Nah, I'm good. Thank you,” he headed to the living room. Baseem grabbed his s.h.i.+rt and pulled it over his head.

Goldie came back into the room with a drink in each hand. Pa.s.sing him one, she took a seat on the couch.

”Nah, I'm straight, ma.”

”You gonna just leave without having your last drink?” she extended her arm holding the gla.s.s up to him.

”I'ma have this one. But don't be trying to take advantage of me,” he took a seat next to her on the couch.

”Ain't n.o.body thinking about you; you are safe up in Goldie's spot,” she put her hand up in surrender.

”Oh, I'm safe?” he asked, taking the drink to his lips.

Goldie felt the tension building between them and she quickly ducked it. ”Anyway, Mr. Baseem...what's on your agenda for the evening?” she asked, taking few sips.

”You know me...always on the grind,” he responded, looking in her eyes.

”Indeed. Let me ask you something,” she paused and took another sip. ”Do you ever get tired?”

Baseem gripped his gla.s.s and took in a little air. ”To be honest, no. It's like I was born with this hand and no matter how many times they reshuffle the deck, I keep getting the same cards,” he continued to stare in her eyes.

Goldie felt a lump rising in her throat as her next words fought to be freed from her lips. ”I thought I could never get tired until I had to clean Night's brains off my skin,” An onslaught of emotion stole her moment and a tear escaped her eye.

Baseem reached over and ran the back of his hand gently over her face catching her tears. ”You're going to be a'ight; you're built for this s.h.i.+t. Plus, little man is going to keep you on point,” he flashed her that s.e.xy smile.

Goldie forced a smile to her face then wiped at her eyes. ”Thank you, Bas.”

”I told you, I got you. Come walk me to the door,” he patted her thigh placed his gla.s.s on the table then stood up and pulled her to her feet. ”Let me know if you need anything.” he leaned in and gave her a firm embrace.

Goldie closed her eyes as she felt the strength in his hands pulling her closer. It felt as if every muscle in his arms caressed her back.

”I sure will,” she inhaled him as she pulled back; Goldie enjoyed the way she felt in a man's arms, but she knew they need not cross that line. Goldie gripped his hand and gave him a smile. ”Thank you,” she said then headed to the door.

Baseem's eyes roamed over her body as she walked off. He just licked his lips and rubbed his hands together at the visuals that played in his head.

Goldie opened the door wide and as he pa.s.sed her, she took another deep breath.

”Lock up and get some rest,” he kissed her on her forehead then moved swiftly toward the elevator, keeping the boundaries of their relations.h.i.+p intact.

”Be safe, Bas,” she yelled out.

”Always,” he said as he stepped on the elevator.

Goldie closed and locked the door, set the alarm and headed to her room; stripping along the way. She needed a cold shower and quickly.

Chapter 11.

Out of Your League ”Thank you for seeing me on such a short notice,” Brenda headed to a seat in front of Mr. Fucciano's huge mahogany desk.

”Good Afternoon,” he rose to his feet as she sat down. ”I don't really know how I can help you, but I will listen,” he said as he sat back resting his arms on the chair.

”We have a common interest and I am interested in removing that thorn from both of our sides,” she clutched her purse in her lap and crossed her legs.

”You will have to speak plain words so there is no confusion,” the calmness of his deep, Italian accent played well against her ear drums.

Brenda took a deep breath then put it on the table. ”Mr. Wells needs to be removed from the equation. I know you have business with him, but I know someone who can fulfill what he is bringing you and double it,” she stated confidently.

”You are so way out of your league, Miss Watson. My relations.h.i.+p with Kayson is not one of finance, it is one of trust; and you, my dear, I do not trust.”

”You trust a man that allows his wife to make decisions on his behalf? I thought you were old school,” she hurled an insult in his direction.

Mr. Fucciano chuckled. ”Aren't you someone's woman that they sent on the front line to try and negotiate?” he stood up, fastening his jacket. ”If you will excuse me, I have a meeting to attend,” he came around the desk and stood by her side.

Brenda stood up speaking her final words. ”You are making a huge mistake.”

”And so are you,” he returned word play, placing his hand against her back and lead her to the door. ”Have a nice day,” he escorted her to the hallway.

”You do the same. Wish we could be meeting under different circ.u.mstances,” Brenda said as she walked off.

Mr. Fucciano didn't respond; he watched her walk onto the elevator then he turned toward the conference room. As he walked, he thought about Brenda's proposition. A father moving in on his son is not too un-common, but to have this woman in the middle, what is the purpose of that, he thought as he approached the gla.s.s enclosed area.

He paused when he looked in and saw the slim and curvy, dirty blonde haired, white girl with legs for days. They seemed to extend from the bottom of her short skirt and planted themselves into the ground with every step. The woman moved around the boardroom, commanding everyone's attention as she spit out numbers and time frames.

Fucciano pushed the door open slow and stepped inside. Jill, his a.s.sistant, looked up and saw him standing there and interrupted the presentation to announce his presence.

”Uh, oh hold on. We have a very special someone in the room; please welcome Mr. Fucciano,”

The room erupted in applause and Jill pulled out a chair for him at the top of the conference table.

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