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  "How many clients do they have?"

  I could tell she was flustered.

  “Err…,” she breathed, shuffling through her paperwork, evidently searching around for the answer to my question.

  As I waited for her answer, I let my mind briefly wander to last night when I had run my tongue through her moist slit and felt my pants tightening. Shit; I was losing focus.

  "Miss Williams," I snapped, making her jump slightly. "I expect staff to prepare for these meetings and to be ready to answer all questions on the fly."

  I was more irritated at myself than at her; she’d gotten under my skin. I tried to avoid looking at her in case I got more erotic images in my thoughts.

  "Sixteen thousand clients," she finally answered. "They have sixteen thousand unit trusts consisting mainly of first time investors who will benefit from our advice and guidance. I believe we can convert a minimum fifty percent of those clients, bringing in an annual income of around $12 million dollars net."

  A murmur of approval went around the room and I concurred. But for some unknown reason I couldn’t resist a dig at her.

  "Well?" I responded dismissively. "That’s hardly our biggest client. However, what do you need the company to do to help you close this deal?"

  "I already took Mr. Baker and Mr. Wallace to meet with them and they’ve indicated that they’re ready to sign, once we give them the additional paperwork they have requested. I would suggest a small cocktail event for them to meet with you and other senior decision makers in Strauss Carter in a social setting to form relationships; hopefully as soon as Friday before their Chief Finance Officer, Ernest Randall, goes on a major trip to the Himalayas."

  How would she have personal information about this man? Was she fanning her tail around him as well? I felt that unfamiliar feeling in my chest again; the one that I’d felt when I thought she might have a boyfriend.

  "How would you know their CFO is planning that?" I demanded, wanting to know what sort of relationship she’d developed with Randall. “That’s something too personal for a person in that position to share.”

  She looked slightly puzzled and glanced at Jack Baker.

  "When we met for lunch last week he told us about it," she answered smoothly.

  "Yes, I can confirm that," Jack added. "He mentioned that he was going on an expedition to Mount Everest for two months..."

  "You were at the meeting?" I asked him, wanting to make sure Lena wasn’t trying to cover her tracks.

  "Yes, I was," Jack replied a little puzzled at my line of questioning.

  I felt relief flood me, but played it cool.

  "Okay, then,” I said, jotting down the Friday date. "Arrange the cocktail party, talk to the PR and Events teams. In fact, tell our guests to bring their wives or girlfriends or whatever, so we can turn on the charm."

  Since this was one of the few opportunities we got to socialize as colleagues, I might as well see if she really has a boyfriend so I could meet him and check him out.

  "You should also all bring your partners, for a change,” I added, looking at her directly.

  "Sure, that sounds great," she replied, clearly surprised at my request.

  I’d acted like a fool and couldn’t wait for her to finish her report.

  “Any other important news, Miss. Williams?" I asked, writing down Ernest Randall’s name and position in my notes.

  "The presentation you wanted; any further revisions?"

  She had to go there? Really? After what it caused?

  “No,” I answered curtly, ending the conversation.

  After my separate meeting with Baker, I went back to my office and ordered a coffee. I had a couple of hours before my flight to New York with Donald Wallace, the other Senior Account Manager. We were working on a major prospect worth an income of over $200 million for Strauss Carter.

  I thought back to our staff meeting with Lena, where she seemed to act as though everything was completely normal. She was working on a corporate function for a client; did that mean I was off the hook when it came to what we did? I wasn’t sure. Because if I was, I definitely wanted to see her again; I knew once hadn’t been enough. On a spur of the moment, I called my personal physician’s assistant to book an immediate appointment. I’d go see my doctor before I went to the airport.

  Chapter Seven

  Jackson collected my bag from the penthouse then drove me to my doctor’s office in Midtown. Upon arrival, I was ushered immediately into Dr. Lee’s office.

  He was an Asian medical doctor in his early fifties and had immigrated to the US in his early twenties. While he spoke English fluently, he still had the traces of a Chinese accent in his pronunciations. After I shook his hand I immediately told him what I needed.

  “Hey doc, I need a quick full physical and blood tests done.”

  Dr. Lee never flinched or showed any emotion.

  “Do you have anything wrong with you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I just need a report sent to me on my sexual health.”

  He wrote something in his notes.

  “Have you been at risk lately?” His face as usual was unreadable and completely non-judgmental. I’d not had unprotected sex with anybody in the last three years; the last person being Ashley, my ex-fiancée. It’d been drummed into me from puberty by my parents that our family status made me a target for “accidental” pregnancies. I took precautions every time and knew my risk was low.

  “Nope, I always play it safe, doc. I just need a current report.”

  Dr. Lee did a brief exam, drew blood from my arm and took a swab.

  After the uncomfortable experience, Jackson drove me to DeKalb Peachtree Airport where our corporate jet was parked in a rented hangar. When we arrived it was already prepped for take-off and Jackson took my bags inside while I greeted the pilots. Donald Wallace, my Chief Financial Officer Joseph Pike, our corporate lawyer Mark Dixon and a couple of assistants were already aboard, scrolling through a document on a laptop. We’d arrive in New York by 3.00pm and have an evening dinner with our clients later, then would discuss business the next day.

  Later after the dinner in New York, I was in my hotel room getting ready for bed, thinking about my encounter with Lena last night. Why was I obsessing about her? This was not my style at all. Normally, the women were obsessing about me while I tried my best to blow them off. If I liked them, I kept them around for longer. This ridiculous obsession with a woman who wasn’t even my type was beginning to piss me off. And I was still worried that she might still sue me.

  I knew we had a mixer with First Banking Trust on Friday evening. Normally, I let the senior managers handle that, but I wanted to meet Lena’s boyfriend for some unknown reason. And I had to bring a date myself. I didn’t want to bring along any woman who might read more into it; so immediately I thought of Isabella.

  I’d met her in my year of college in Germany a few years ago while she was a student and aspiring model. She was only nineteen, I was twenty-one and we became good friends, with no romantic interest in each other. She’d come from the Czech Republic but sadly dropped out of college due to drugs and alcohol and had flown back to her country without graduating. Over time I’d kept in touch with her by email and she’d made contact a few months before, asking for a place to crash so she could come re-launch her modeling career in the States.

  When she arrived, she’d transformed into a beautiful, well-groomed woman. I lent her my condo in Midtown and she’d asked for funding for her boob job and dental work. I’d since introduced her to the local social scene since I knew a lot of cosmetic brand executives and took her to a couple of functions to meet key people. It was difficult for her to adjust; she was an introvert and came across as cold and unfriendly most of the time.

  So Isabella would be my date, for Friday since we had no romantic involvement.

  The next day, our presentations and negotiations went off without a hitch and our client was ready to sign along the dotted line. I left Wallace, Pik
e and Dixon to manage the paperwork with their team, while the client and I went to have a celebratory lunch. We were flying back to Atlanta that evening, since our work in New York had been successfully completed.

  We headed for the airport by helicopter due to chaotic New York traffic, preparing for a 6.00pm take off slot.

  After we entered the jet and sat down, getting ready for a celebratory drink with my team, I felt my phone buzz in my inner pocket. It was an unfamiliar number. Puzzled I opened the message and read it with my heart pounding in my chest. It read:

  “Just thought I should apologize for Monday night. It was not all your fault; I accept responsibility for my part. I also apologize for raising my hand to you. I love working here and will ensure I do not do anything to jeopardize my job in future. Sincerely, Lena.”

  Wallace interrupted my reverie as I read and reread the message.

  “Everything okay, Jonathan?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

  I powered the phone off, just as the pilot announced over the intercom that we’d be taking off shortly.

  “No, I’m good,” I replied nonchalantly.

  We shared a bottle of Armagnac and toasted to our success as the plane flew south to Atlanta. We chatted about sports good-naturedly, while half of my mind was on the message from Lena. She was apologizing? For what we did? Apology did not come close to anything I felt about that night. It was amazing and it felt so right. Of course she’d feel regret. But I didn’t and I wasn’t going to pretend; I guess an apology meant no lawsuit then. Relief flooded me that not suing me might mean I still had a chance for one more encounter with her.

  Two hours later, we arrived back in Atlanta. A limousine was waiting for my colleagues and Jackson was waiting for me with the Tahoe. We headed to my penthouse and I ordered dinner from the restaurant and showered while waiting. After I’d eaten, I opened the message from Lena and reread it once more, noting it was now after 9.00pm and she’d probably be sleeping. She’d given me the opening I needed. I wanted her to know I was interested in seeing her again by telling her I didn’t regret our encounter. I replied:

  “I’m not sorry. J. C.”

  When I woke up early next morning, I made my way to the office, looking forward to finalizing the details of our New York client and also hoping to get a glimpse of Lena. While I dressed in my charcoal gray suit, a crisp white shirt and gray tie, I wondered what our interaction would be like today and that evening at the mixer. I was curious to know what she thought of my reply. From the tone of her message, that’s probably the last thing she expected to hear.

  I had an early meeting with one of the Account Executives, Justice, to finalize details on a big contract he was due to land with the management of a popular sports team.

  I worked steadily through my morning, signing several crucial documents and making a short phone call to my father to brief him on the New York deal, before planning to finish our discussion over lunch later. While chatting to him; I saw an email arrive from Lena. I opened it immediately. She was informing everyone in the department that she had a client coming into the offices for a tour and would walk around. I wanted to see her; I informed Baker that I was looking forward to meeting Lena’s client since I was in the office.

  Just before noon, I was finishing a call when I looked up to see Lena standing at the door to my office knocking. She looked stunning, in a dove gray suit; her above knee skirt accentuating her hips. I took a moment to let the sight of her smiling at me sink in, until I realized she’d brought her client with her. I remembered my manners and came around from behind my desk smiling and offered my hand to her client. He was an African American man in his mid-thirties, dressed expensively in some designer brand clothes. He was well built, evidently an avid gym-goer and stood just about a head shorter than me. Lena introduced us professionally,

  "Mr. Carter,” she began, “this is Ronald Banks, the founder of the Chicken’n’Cheese franchise. He's here for an informal visit to learn what we’re about and hopefully we may be able to offer his company investment and financial services in the future."

  She turned her attention to Banks.

  "And Mr. Banks, this is our Chief of Business Development, Jonathan Carter."

  I shook his hand firmly.

  "Please. Call me Jonathan," I offered politely.

  "Pleased to meet you, Jonathan. And please call me Ronald," Banks replied.

  I released his hand and directed him to the double couch in my office while I took the single one beside him.

  “Nice view,” said Banks, evidently admiring the view of the city visible through my office window. I nodded in agreement. Lena sat directly opposite me, swinging her legs to the side like a finishing school graduate. I glanced at her, appreciating just how beautiful she was and trying to read what she was thinking right that moment. Eventually, I had to drag away my gaze and focus once more on our client.

  “May we offer you any refreshments; coffee perhaps?” I asked.

  “No thank you, I’m good,” he replied waving away my offer.

  "Ronald, I trust that you’ve been well taken care of?"

  "Yeah, Lena has been great. You have one smart cookie here," he said, nodding towards Lena.

  I always praised my staff in front of our clients; it was important to make sure the client had full confidence in the service they were receiving.

  "She's one of our very best," I concurred, actually being quite truthful as I glanced at her again.

  "Don't I know that!" Banks said with a laugh and a knowing look at Lena.

  What was that supposed to mean? I thought, feeling that horrible tinge of jealousy running through me again. Are they fucking or what? I wondered. I looked at her and she gave me a bland smile that provided no further information. I suppressed my irritation that perhaps Banks could be her boyfriend and she’d dared to parade him in my office. I didn’t like it one bit. Still, I had to act professional and give her the benefit of doubt.

  I redirected our discussion to his business, asking him about his franchise and their future plans. Banks was solid; he was obviously driven and had a concrete plan. We could definitely help them.

  When our brief conversation was winding down, Lena suggested that she’d like to take Banks to meet other staff and I stood and led them to my door, shaking his hand and offering assistance should he need it. I could tell he liked Lena and that irritated the hell out of me.

  After they’d gone, I called my father and Baker to meet me in the basement parking so we could go to lunch together nearby as we’d arranged earlier.

  Seeing my father always had my chest swelling with pride at his achievements. He’d reluctantly inherited Carter Finance from his father, steered the company through two recessions and all this with a bad heart. I was his only child and I knew the responsibility I had to Strauss Carter and to my family was to be taken seriously. My parents had been married for years before they were able to have me using modern medical methods and in their words, I was really all they had.

  By the time I finished lunch with my father and another meeting with a business associate, it was time to pick up Isabella from her condo in Midtown. Because it was my apartment, I headed straight up the elevator and knocked on her door. She took so long to answer; I had to call her on the phone. Eventually she answered the door, dressed beautifully in a nude sheath dress, looking every bit the model she was. Her face looked flushed and her pupils dilated as though she’d just been through a roller coaster ride. I wondered if there was a man with her there; I was a little protective of her since she was in the States as my guest and I knew she could be easy prey for predators. I stepped into the apartment and looked around. Seeing nobody else there, I quickly went to use the bathroom before we took off. She nervously followed, seemingly not wanting me to go in there.

  When I entered the bathroom, right there on the sink were the remains of a white powdery substance and a razor blade. I felt anger rising in my gut.

  “Isabella, damn it. What
is this?” I demanded pointing to the obvious remains of cocaine.

  “It was just this once,” she said, pouting rudely, daring me to do something.

  I slammed my hand on the sink. “Isabella, I swear if you don’t sort your shit out, I want you out of my condo by end of the month, is that clear?”

  “I’m sorry, Jonathan,” she said after several moments. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

  I looked at her grimly then headed towards the front door and opened it, waiting for her to exit before me.

  We went downstairs in silence, the tension between us circulating in the air.

  When Jackson dropped us off, I was still angry about what she’d done, but I had a job to do. We headed inside the hotel next to our office building where Lena’s mixer was taking place; with me leading Isabella, my hand on the small of her back.

  Chapter Eight

  When we got to the cocktail, I was still distracted by the revelation of Isabella’s relapse into drug use. I stood at the doorway, scanning the small crowd looking for Lena. When I saw her, she was a vision, dressed in a sexy white cocktail dress that hugged her figure perfectly. My heart stopped at the sight of her. She walked towards us with that confident sway she had. I couldn’t help the desire I felt pooling in my gut, but I had to bring my thoughts under control.

  “Evening, Mr. Carter,” she breathed in her sultry voice.

  I knew Isabella was still sulking, judging from the fake smile she offered in return for Lena’s beautiful one.

  I introduced them then headed further inside the room, following Lena towards Mr. Randall.

  “Mr. Carter, this is Mr. Ernest Randall from First Banking Trust,” Lena began as I sized Randall up, noting he looked vaguely familiar.

  “And Mr. Randall, this is Mr. Jonathan Carter,” she added as I offered Randall my hand, giving him a firm handshake.