Chapter 9

Whiskee

My energy shifted.Sleeping on everything didn't make me feel better; it made me feel worse. I woke up angry. Angry at Carlos and Tim. Angry at this situation. Angry at the fact that my first marriage was a damn business arrangement.

Mahogany was on her way to her office, where she filmed a lot of her brand videos, when she stopped in the guest bathroom and asked, "You need me to bring you anything back?"

Shaking my head, I pulled my hair up into a loose ponytail. "I'm good, sis. Thanks."

"All right. Call me when you get back from breakfast and let me know how it goes. I can't wait until I get back home to hear about it."

Chuckling, I nodded my agreement, and she left me alone. It was cooler today than it was yesterday, so I dressed in a white sweatsuit and a pair of red heels that matched my nails and Birkin bag. The excitement I had about seeing Beethoven had turned into dread. Were we really about to discuss a marriage of convenience like our lives were the topic of a damn romance book? My head shook as I applied my lipstick. All I could do was laugh in disbelief.

As I layered my two perfumes for the day, the doorbell rang. My heart dropped instantly as I clutched the edge of the sink.

He was here.

Pulling in a deep breath, I looked myself over once more before cutting the light off and heading out of the bathroom. The steps became harder and harder to take as I neared the living room. No matter how much I kept telling myself Beethoven was in the same position as me when it came to this, I couldn't deny the fact that he was more willing to go along with this charade. I wanted to be upset that he could have agreed to the marriage, but I was grateful he did. Otherwise, the tension between us would have been horrible.

When I opened the door and saw him behind it, I smiled. Genuinely. All the ill feelings that flooded me seemed to go away with each second that passed of me being in his presence.

Beethoven was dressed down today in jeans and a black sweater. He looked just as good, though.

"Hey, you ready?"

"Yeah."

With one bob of his head, he took a step back so I could step out. After locking up, I followed him to a black town car. Didn't surprise me that he wasn't driving today. Robert Carter never drove himself when he was handling business.

Beethoven waited until we were in the back seat of the car to ask, "Were you able to get some sleep?"

With a shrug, I looked out of the window. "For the most part. You?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have a particular taste for anything?"

"I'm not usually up this early, so I don't really eat breakfast."

On an average day, I would have gotten up and did a little reading then worked out and had a protein smoothie that would hold me over until lunch time.

"Why you ain't say that?"

Chuckling, I finally looked over at him. He looked genuinely upset. "I figured you had a lot to do today, so I didn't want to be difficult."

"I do, but we could have pushed it back and did lunch or dinner."

"Do you actually eat when you're handling business, Beethoven?"

Him not replying right away was all the answer I needed. "That's not the point."

I chuckled, and he smiled.

"Waffle House is fine. I can at least eat some hashbrowns."

"You sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Aight, cool." He told the driver to take us to the nearest Waffle House, which I appreciated.

Silence found us, which was fine with me.

When we arrived, it was Beethoven who opened the door for me. He did the same when we walked inside the restaurant. Instinctively, he put me on the right side of him as we passed a group of men, keeping me away from them. Little things like that made me feel more comfortable around him.

A waitress walked over to our table almost immediately. I didn't mind her smile and googly eyes as she stared at Beethoven. He was a very handsome man. And he smelled good too. I loved the fresh scent of laundry. Nothing was better to me than cuddling up with a blanket fresh out of the dryer and inhaling that clean scent. That was what Beethoven smelled like, and I think the fresh and clean scent of his cologne was what made me hug him last night.

She took our drink order for coffee and orange juice. Beethoven knew what he wanted shortly after, and since I was only going to get hashbrowns and a side of sausage, I was ready when she came back. Less than fifteen minutes later, our food was coming out. Beethoven went ahead and paid her so we could have some privacy for our conversation.

But we didn't need the privacy.

He got a phone call from his father that demanded his attention.

Three minutes later, a Sprinter was pulling up and parking next to the town car.

"I apologize but I have to go take care of some shit," Beethoven said. "Stay and eat. Reggie will take you back to the apartment."

"Oh, o-okay."

With haste, Beethoven made his way out of the booth. He placed a quick kiss to my temple before jogging out of the restaurant and hopping into the Sprinter. Before the door closed, I saw glimpses of men in all black and masks.

The sight made me shiver.

For a while, I forgot who these men were. Regardless of how nice Beethoven was, he was the heir to a drug organization. I didn't know of his reputation, but he was probably just as dangerous as his father was. That truth didn't make me feel as if I was in danger with Beethoven. If anything, it made me feel safer.