Elite's been out on bail for two weeks, and it's been an exhausting 14 days. At first, she was handling all the attention as best as she can. She only left the house when she really needed to.
Now, it's getting old.
"I thought you said within a 24 hour news cycle the story would be obsolete," Elite huffs at her face currently on the news.. again. She sits in the office of her attorney, Supreme.
Right now they're running a story where they're talking to any and everybody who knows Elite. They're basically trying to paint this picture to make more people believe she could've killed Shinobi.
"I don't even know this bitch like that! We had one class together junior year," Elite smacks her lips.
It's a white girl she went to high school with answering a reporter's questions. "Yeah, I remember Elite. In high school they called her Elle Woods."
"Why that nickname?"
"From the movie Legally Blonde. It was just something cute. Her bestfriend, Holland Braithwaite, they called her Hollywood. And she was Elle Woods. They were both super popular, despite everything..."
"Despite everything? What does that mean?"
"You know... Despite them being two of a handful of African American students," she whispers like it's a crime. "Despite the fact Elite's parents died and they lost all their money."
Elite rolls her eyes. She was always known for that in high school. She was a charity case in everyone's eyes. She went to a private school full of spoiled, rich kids. Mainly white and Asian.
It didn't matter that a driver in a black car wearing a suit would come get her and Epic every morning for school.
It didn't matter if she still had access to designer clothes and was gifted a Porsche for her Sweet 16.
Everyone knew it came from Obasi.
She was Elle Woods at private school. In Crenshaw it was Boogie, El Boog, or Boogz. She was two totally different people.
"What was Elite like in school?"
"Very artistic. She was in the school's theatre and drama club. She was apart of every play and musical. She would create the props, design the stages, hand sew the outfits. She played the piano and knew how to arrange music too. Straight A student."
"So, it makes sense she went into the film industry?"
"Yeah. She mostly hung out with Ahmet Mustapha and Holland. They were three peas in a pod."
"Oh, how things change," Elite mumbles to herself.
"Everyone loved Elite, but she had a chip on her shoulder. I know it's not politically correct to say about a Black woman anymore, so how can I say this? She was very assertive."
She means aggressive. She heard it all the time from other students, counselors, and teachers.
"Elaborate."
"She got into a lot of arguments and fights in school."
"Why?"
"Mostly to defend Holland. Holland was known to be mouthy, but she didn't fight. Holly was a pretty and prissy mean girl. A bitch honestly. Elite was quiet and more relaxed, but she always had Holland's back. I figure it comes from her living in Compton."
Elite groans right as Supreme turns the tv off. "Compton?" she laughs. "They couldn't even tell us few black girls apart in school. Now she has so much to say when it's been almost ten years."
"You know I know first hand how those white kids were to us," Supreme agrees. "They're on a smear campaign. It's a way to already start polluting the minds of potential jurors, especially with a high profile case. They're trying to paint you as an angry black woman."
"And I'm supposed to sit back and take it?"
"An interview isn't wise right now. Give it some more time. Until then, let's talk about what we can control. She mentioned Holland and Ahmet.. Holland's testifying for the state. Ahmet has been missing for months now. Do you know anything about that?"
"No," she says steadfastly.
Supreme looks into her. "If you know something you need to tell me. We have attorney-client privilege. It won't leave this room, but I need to know. You know it'll be brought up at trial."
"I don't know anything. You're in the same community in Baldwin Hills. You've heard the rumors."
"Yes, that Ahmet ran off because he didn't want to run his father's company. Those are just rumors. You believe that?"
"I don't know," she shrugs.
"Obasi has the resources. He would've found him by now."
"Who says Obasi is really looking for him?"
"It's his son," Supreme raises an eyebrow.
She sighs annoyed by this conversation. "I don't know anything."
"Fine, let's move on. We established how you met Shinobi. How did you end up entangled back with Ahmet after you moved out and swore you were done. Especially since you started dealing with Shinobi. By all accounts you were ready to move on."
"You know that Mustapha family. They're like a spider web you can't get out of. Before you know it, you're food."
In downtown Los Angeles, Mustapha Towers is busy as employees make sure the company is run smoothly. On the list of today's schedule is that meeting Elite wanted with Obasi, Ahmet, and their lawyers.
Obasi stands staring out of the window. At this point, he's prepared to give Elite whatever she wants to ensure she gets back with his son.
With his arms crossed, he circles his desk. He stares at the large family portrait featuring his seven children – his pride and joy.
He built an empire worth passing down. Numerous companies that generate more money than they can all spend.
Obasi swore he would never have to beg for anything. He kept that promise to himself.
To the outside world he's a force. Maybe a little misunderstood, but he never wanted to be understood anyway.
Nobody actually knows much about Obasi's background. All people know is he's a billionaire who made his fortune in Nigeria's oil and gas industry.
Nobody knows anything about his background and upbringing. They don't know how he acquired his wealth or how he got into oil.
One day people started noticing a logo popping up everywhere on trucks and gas stations. Soon he expanded to other sources of revenues.
Billboards would be plastered with his face and name. Women were too busy swooning over his good looks, and men were too busy wanting to be him. Nobody questioned his origins.
No one's even sure if Obasi's from Nigeria. Nobody knows what tribe he is or what part he's from. Yoruba, Igbo, Hausa, Edo? Who knows. East, west, north, south? No idea.
There have been rumors that he moved around a lot. They've said he lived in Sierra Leone, Ghana, Senegal, Benin, and Nigeria. They've said he was sent to go to school in England.
Nobody ever got confirmation. Obasi Mustapha is an enigma.
It wasn't until Obasi became under fire by Nigerians, that he left the country. They claimed oil spills from his company's operations in the Niger Delta destroyed farms, contaminated drinking water, and harmed aquatic life. More than 11,000 Nigerians from the region filed a compensation claim against him.
He shelled out millions to pay them off. Soon after he moved his family to Los Angeles and expanded his market from Africa to America. This decision only swelled his wealth.
Obasi's thoughts are broken when he hears, "Mr. Mustapha," from his assistant. "Your son has arrived."
Ahmet enters the room coming within feet of his father before prostrating. "Baba."
His father gives him the signal to stand straight. "My firstborn," he grips his shoulder. "Sit. Let's talk before Elite gets here."
"What's going on?"
"Soon I'll be retiring and you'll be in charge of all this," Obasi flares his arms out. "The Mustapha empire belongs to you. Never do anything that will bring shame to your family's prestige. If it's too much responsibility let me know now. Next in line is your brother, Bossier, and he'll gladly step up. You know he wants to."
Now was Ahmet's time to speak up. He knows he doesn't want to run the company. He also knows if chooses not to, he'll be cut off indefinitely. That's financially and in entirety.
"No, I can and will do this."
"Good. That means you have to follow the family's traditions. You have to keep the family name flying high in honor. Our respect and name came from our ancestors. We have to respect them. It's our duty. That means you can't marry an ordinary girl.. Do you know why I chose Elite?"
"No."
"You have to think about the background of the girl. Her status, stature, origin. Will she understand our culture and traditions? Our ethics and principles? Our family values?"
"Maybe I'm confused... Elite and her family's money is gone."
"Elite's mother is from the same place as me. While some families arrange their children's marriage because they believe it to be a religious deed, others do so to either maintain their status in society or improve it. We're doing it to unite two families."
Ahmet's still confused. His father never fully explains why them getting married is so important. He keeps it way too vague when this involves his future.
"Baba, just tell me why this is so pertinent for me to do? What do we gain from this?"
"In due time. Just know it's a great tradition. The elders of the house chose their daughter-in-law. I stand by it. Do you trust me, son?"
Ahmet silently nods. Both men are glad when the family attorney arrives to fill the awkward space between father and son. Ahmet finds it hard to be around his father alone. He never really had to be. He doesn't know his father as a regular man, as a father. Only as a businessman. Obasi never takes that hat off.
Soon after Elite arrives with her own lawyer. They sit around a table ready to discuss the future of their relationship.
Elite and Ahmet connect eyes, but they both seem dead on the inside. There's no spark, if there ever was one.
The only thing Elite can say is the man is gorgeous. There's no doubt about that. Any woman would be happy to be on his arm and sport the Mustapha last name.
He's anyone's type – 90's fine, African, Ivy League graduate, successful and the son of a billionaire.
He's a manboy though. He hasn't made a single decision for himself since he came out of the womb.
His life was decided from the day they found out about him. Where and how he'd be raised. What schools he'd go to. What extracurricular activities he'll be in. How he'd dress, talk, and walk. Who he'll marry. And his career.
Ahmet will never be his own man. He'll never be off the ball and shackle of Obasi.
Ahmet always looked for his father's approval and love. And sometimes Obasi gives it and other times he takes it away. His behavior is always unpredictable.
All of this makes it hard for Elite to respect him. And without respect, she can never truly love a man.
"Let's start... We discussed a negotiation for you to get back with my son. This is about you, so express what you want and we can barter," Obasi starts.
"I was humiliated and things need to be made right. I was lied to then kicked out. For my return, I want stocks or shares in the company when Ahmet becomes CEO..."
Ahmet laughs only to get a glare from his father. "That can happen. We can talk exact percent's later. Anything else?"
Elite's shocked by the easy response. She thought her demands would outrageous and he'd say no. An easy excuse for the relationship to be over and done with.
"I want my brother taken care of, including his medical bills. I want his first lung transplant paid for in full with the best doctors, hospitals, and medication. All the best care."
Obasi smiles knowing he denied her request before. "Well played," he mumbles. Obasi will never admit it, but he likes Elite. She's the type of outspoken and driven woman he feels his son needs.
"Also, I want Epic to have a permanent position in your company if acting doesn't work put. Or at the least, I want him to be on salary whether he's working there or not."
"Most of these requests are for your brother. Very selfless."
"I'm not my top concern right now. I'll get what I want after the marriage."
Ahmet leans into his father whispering, "Are you seriously considering giving into all this?"
"Yes, don't argue." Obasi gives a half-crooked grin to Elite. "Speaking of the marriage... I want the engagement to happen soon. Is there anything you specifically want? We need to start the prenuptial agreement.."
"If Ahmet and I don't work out I want what your first wife had. I want an 'inconvenience fee'." Ahmet's mother walked away from their marriage heartbroken and cheated on. Nevertheless, she received a 'multimillion-dollar settlement' that merely scratched the surface of the billionaire's net worth.
Obasi nods. "Once again, we can discuss a number in prenup negotiations when you two plan on tying the knot." He slides a picture across the table.
"What's this?"
"$10 million engagement ring. It's the initial design me and my son came up with." Ahmet wants to grumble he didn't come up with shit. More so, he was there and agreed to everything Obasi suggested to the jeweler.
"Is it to your liking?" Ahmet asks reluctantly. "It's 35-carats."
"Would I get to keep it if the marriage fails?"
"You've been doing a lot of talking about the future failure," Obasi furrows his eyebrows.
"Precautions.."
"You sound like my first wife," he laughs getting chuckles from the lawyers. "Any other requests?"
"None right now," Elite shrugs. "Do I get everything I asked for?"
"Under one condition...I - We have something you need to agree to as well," Obasi looks at his son.
Ahmet finishes the statement saying, "Stop seeing that guy from the pictures. Shinobi Waters, right?"
Elite rolls her eyes looking at Ahmet. She went back and watched the ring camera footage. Seeing Ahmet drunk and begging made for a good laugh, but it was also embarrassing.
She was trying to keep those two worlds apart. She didn't want Shinobi knowing who her ex is. Nor does she want him asking questions about their situation.
Ever since that night, she can tell Shy took a step back. They still keep it professional at work and play after hours, but he's more distant. It's strictly about the sex and nothing else.
She doesn't blame him because look where she's at.
"Do you agree?"
She hesitates. Right now isn't about some really good dick. This agreement is for her brother's health. She's not jeopardizing that for anybody.
"Yeah, I won't see him anymore. Remember, I work with him though," she sighs.
"Good," Obasi smiles as Ahmet gives one too. "We'll put everything you asked for in writing. You sign it and it's done. Stock in the company, medical care for Epic, and a permanent position at the company for Epic as well."
Elite extends her hand shaking on it with the two men. "Deal. I'll be moving back in by tonight.." It hurts to say it. She's officially back with Ahmet.
She leaves the meeting headed back for Crenshaw. They wasted no time because movers are already at the residence.
Once inside she points to what she wants them to take. "We're not taking everything? We were instructed to," the head mover asks.
"No."
By afternoon, Elite's pulling up to Ahmet's Hollywood Hills mansion. She steps out of the Land Rover that was never confiscated by him.
Despite liking her freedom the past two months, she's missed this luxurious lifestyle. It might come at a cost, but the Mustapha's provide a comfortability you can't get anywhere else.
The residence soaks up views of the surrounding Santa Monica Mountains, the canyon, and the California coastline meeting the Pacific Ocean. She takes in the breathtaking scenery before something else catches her eye..
In the driveway is a brand new Rolls-Royce Cullinan with a bow on it. In typical Mustapha fashion they make you feel like less of a dummy by showering you in expensive gifts.
"For you." Keys are extended to Elite by Ahmet's longtime nanny who had been upgraded to his estate manager. "It's nice to have you back, madam," Ngozi lies. The woman never liked Elite and still doesn't.
The nearly $400,000 car isn't empty either. The backseat is filled with boxes from a trip to Chanel and Hermes.
Looking at the car's starry ceiling, Elite's conflicted. She made so much progress on herself in only two months. Now she's taking a few steps back. But for her brother, she's willing run a mile backwards if she has to.
Entering the home, she goes upstairs to a spare bedroom as opposed to the master. She looks at some of her boxes they already brought in here.
"Why's your stuff in here?" Ahmet asks from by the door.
"I'm only back under certain agreements."
"I thought you got everything you wanted at the meeting."
"These agreements are between you and I. Not you, me, and your father. First, I'll be staying in this bedroom. I'll only be here 3 days out of the week."
"Why?"
"I'm going to keep working as a set designer. My grandmother's house in Crenshaw is a better commute."
"You don't have to work."
"I want to. I want to make my own money. It gives me something to do and an excuse to get out of this house."
"Also, to see that nigga..."
Deep down she has no plans of ceasing what she has going on with Shinobi. "We both know what it is. This isn't some love connection. I should be able to see who I want and you can too."
Ahmet shakes his head plopping down in an armchair. "Did you fuck him?"
Elite laughs. "Are you serious right now?"
"Did you?"
"In every way imaginable," she gets serious now. "And I'm going to keep fucking him. Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to."
Ahmet smacks his lips standing with anger. "What the fuck do you think this is? You're not going to be living with me and spending my money while fucking another dude. You know how easy it is to tell my father and dead this whole shit."
She holds her hand up. "We're not doing our usual cycle of threatening one another."
"Unless you don't want your brother to get treatment-"
"Don't!" She raises her voice startling Ahmet. "And I'll tell your father about your baby mother and daughter. Let's save it." His face softens seeing her eyes are watery. "I'm only here because of my brother, so leave me the fuck alone."
"He's really that sick?"
Elite snatches a pile of envelopes from her purse. "Hospital bills. So, let me do what I have to do! Since your father can't do it out of the goodness of his heart!"
"Okay," he whispers.
She gains composure. "I need to get ready for tonight if I'm going to be your date."
"Here," he takes out his wallet handing her a credit card.
"Thank you."
. . .
Later that night, Elite's being pampered by a glam team. She watches as a personal shopper takes out a gown from a garment bag. Tonight Holland's mother is a having a casino night fundraiser to raise money for her district attorney campaign. Obasi's endorsing her.
Elite looks at herself in the mirror. Like Ahmet prefers, her hair is bone straight with a side part. She pays the bill for hair and makeup using his credit card.
She leaves going to Holland's parents house in Beverly Hills. After raising their kids in Baldwin Hills, they upgraded.
The door opens with the housekeeper behind it. Coming down the winding staircase is Holland with a toddler right on her heels.
"Go find Mommy," Holland brushes the little girl off.
"Who's that? Is there new developments in the Braithwaite household I don't know about?"
"I didn't tell you? My parents decided to adopt a new kid," Holland says it so casually.
"Uh, what made them do that? Y'all are all grown and finally out of the house."
"My siblings joke that I was such a disappointment they decided to give it one more shot."
Elite chuckles. "What's her name?"
"Mali." Before Elite can ask anymore questions, Holland grumbles, "Here comes this bitch."
It's Holland's older sister, Justice. Despite them once being the only two girls of their five siblings, they don't get along at all.
As the second oldest, Justice was a lot to live up to for Holland. She's perfect.. Pretty and smart.
She's currently a corporate lawyer on track to becoming the youngest partner at the firm. On top of having the career, she has a perfect personal life. She's married to a neurosurgeon that she met while attending Harvard. He was in medical school and she was in law school.
All her life she heard, Why can't you be more like Justice?
By 8p.m., the event is in full swing. The home is filled with snooty people formally dressed with full wallets. These parties are snooze fests. They're excuses to dress up, show off, gossip, and drink.
Elite swallows what's remaining in her champagne glass. She gives a fake smile to her future father-in-law. "Try chatting with donors. Don't look so miserable," he suggests passing by with his 3rd wife on his arm.
"Easy for you to say," she mumbles. She looks across the room for Ahmet who's at a table playing a game of poker...
"I knew you'd finally come back to your senses. I'm glad you two are back together," Holland says breaking Elite's thoughts of wanting to text Shinobi.
"Yeah, well it's not like that. It's an arrangement to help my brother. I'm only in it for the money."
"That's the way it should've always been. I told you that."
"Yeah, but they still want to control my life. I've been seeing this guy and I think I like him," Elite keeps it vague. "How do I explain to him the situation?"
Holland shrugs. "Be honest. If the guy flips out, then he actually likes you. If he plays it cool and nonchalant, you know he wasn't serious. Make your next move based on his reaction.."
"You might be right." Elite silently contemplates to herself when Ahmet walks over. He wraps his arms around her waist kissing her temple. "What's wrong?"
Elite plays it off even though she feels uncomfortable with him touching her. Faking is going to be harder than she thought. She doesn't look at him like that anymore.
"I needed some good luck before I play another game."
She closes her eyes tight shut. "Good luck." When her eyes open Holland's recording a video.
"My favorite couple," Holland can be heard in the background. Elite's too busy trying not to be repulsed at Ahmet's touch to care that Holland posted the video to her Instagram story.
He walks away and his cologne lingers behind. Wanting an out for a second, Elite says to Holland, "Let's go to the bathroom."
Instead of finding one all the guests are using downstairs, they go upstairs to a guest suite.
"Do you have any perfume?" Elite asks after looking through her own purse realizing she didn't put any in hers.
"Check my purse," Holland says while reapplying her lip-gloss.
She digs through all the crap Holland threw in here. Elite pauses seeing a baggie of coke. She rolls her eyes while smacking her lips.
"You're doing this shit again?" She pulls it out holding it up.
Holland's had a problem with the substance since a teenager.
Quiet as it's kept, Holland just came back from a treatment center for her little problem. Everyone knows when she disappears for months, her parents made her get help. When she was in Ibiza, she was really in a rehab center.
She's gone to rehab multiple times but it never does much good for her. She doesn't feel like she's addicted. Her parents force her to. The longest she's been sober since a teen is 70 days.
Her even having a drug problem is partially her parent's fault. Elite's parents, the Braithwaite's, and the Mustapha's would bring their kids parties just like this one.
They would leave the children by themselves in a designated room while they mingled and drank. They were able to get into a lot at young ages without their parents noticing. They would sneak drinks, eaves drops on adult conversations, and watch adults drink alcohol at high amounts or do drugs. The adults would do lines or pop pills at these parties.
The apple soon didn't fall far from the tree. They started to mimic their parents as teenagers.
For Elite, the alcohol helped her escape her problems just for the moment.
For Holland, the higher she got the more she thought she was happier. In reality she was more miserable than ever.
At 16 Holland was partying in Hollywood with adult superstars. She became addicted to the nightlife. She was a club hopper and social light. That's how she got her nickname in high school – Hollywood.
It only got worse when they went to college at UCLA. Holland's usage was gradual but she got into the heavier stuff. Drinking and doing drugs was the only way she had fun.
The running joke is that Holland is the black Paris Hilton.
Nothing's funny about it though. When she was a teenager her parents were willing to work with her...At 25 it's getting old.
If her parents find out she relapsed, they're cutting her off financially for good. That's why this modeling thing has to work or Holland's stuck out to dry.
"It's hard to quit cold turkey," Holland snatches the baggie putting it back in her purse.
"Are you high right now?" She examines her eyes.
"I took a little. You know these parties make my anxiety bad. All these people fawning over my siblings and their accomplishments. Then they get to me asking what I'm doing with my life and I have no answer. And now there's a new kid for them to obsess over."
Elite shakes her head, but says nothing. Talking is useless with Holland.
Towards the end of the night, Elite is irritated. Irritated by Holland being high and the presence of Ahmet. So, she left without telling anyone.
Now she's at Shinobi's building waiting on his elevator after buzzing it. She stands impatiently repeatedly pushing the button.
Tonight she should be breaking it off with Shinobi and telling him about Ahmet. She's not going to though.
How can she stop? When she's around him, she wants to concede to his every command. He's a man who's crafty with his hands. Much like how he professionally works a camera, Shy can push her buttons and capture magic.
She has no idea what to call what they're doing though. He isn't hers and she isn't his. In fact, now she's Ahmet's.
How would she break it to him?
"Is he home?" She asks with both drunken and sexual frustration to the doorman. The man shrugs. Truthfully, Shinobi stands by his elevator wondering if he should let her up or choose peace tonight.
"Maybe he's asleep. Give him a minute. Does he know you're coming?" The security guard asks. Throughout the years him and Shinobi sparked a friendship. He's seen many women rotate these doors. Elite is one that he's surprised lasted this long.
"No." She's about to call him when the elevator opens. "Finally!" she steps on.
It stops on the 7th floor. On the other side of the gate to his freight elevator is Shinobi standing there shirtless only in grey sweats.
"What're you doing here?" He asks not bothering to unlock the gate to let her into his loft.
"I wanted to see you."
He clenches his jaw before unlocking the gate and lifting it. Elite smiles but it quickly wipes away seeing Shy doesn't look too happy.
"I'm sure there's someone wondering where you are..." He tosses his phone to her where a video plays.
It's the video of her and Ahmet that Holland recorded. He can't lie when he saw it his stomach sank.
"It's not what it looks like." There's no way to explain Ahmet's hands roaming her body before he kisses her face.
"A week ago we talked about this.. All the signs were in my face that you had a nigga. Not wanting to go in public and be seen. All the ducking and hiding when we went out. The Snapchat and Zoom," he rambles walking through his living room.
"It's not like that," Elite follows him ready to plead her case. Then she stops in her tracks. "Why am I explaining myself to you? I know for a fact you're fucking other bitches. I found a pair of panties in your crib!"
"Me fucking bitches when I'm single isn't the same as you being in a full-blown relationship. I'm not anybody's side nigga."
"I'm not in a relationship -I wasn't," she corrects herself palming her face.
"Which one is it? Past or present?"
"I wasn't, but I am now. You don't understand. I have to explain it."
"Explain. I want to hear what bullshit you come up with. I have all night if need be."
They both sit on the couch. Elite doesn't know where to start, but the only option is from the beginning.
She literally has to go back to before her or Ahmet were born and the agreement was made between their parents.
She explains who Obasi Mustapha is. Also, how she's only getting back with Ahmet because she needs the money for her sick brother.
"I don't have feelings for him like that anymore to withstand a romantic relationship. This is only for an image," she explains. "He inherits his father's company and I'm taken care of."
"I asked if you were going to get back with him. You should've been honest then. You probably weren't going to tell me if I didn't see this video."
"It's not easy explaining my situation. That's why I never bothered trying to date anyone else."
"So, why are you?"
"I'm tired of wasting my emotions on a person I'll never fall in love with. I'm accepting it for what it is."
Shinobi's quiet trying to process this. Elite wonders what he's thinking then he says, "I'm not even trippin' forreal. We're vibing. We're just friends that fuck, right?"
That's that nonchalant shit she doesn't like.
She scoffs standing up and snatching her purse. "That's what I expected. Why would you care? You probably have bitches in and out of here. I'm just pussy to you."
Seeing her heading towards the elevator, Shy smacks his lips and slowly stands from the couch. "Why you actin' like that? Come here!"
"How the fuck do you do this?!" She yanks on the elevator gate trying to lift it not noticing he locked it back.
"Move. You're not going anywhere," he pulls her hand off it. Elite has her back to him with her eyes towards the ground. "Look at me."
"No."
Shy's eyes are already on her. "Look at me, so I can talk to you," he says more sternly this time. Elite gives him eye contact already about to fold. "What the fuck else do you want me to say?"
"Say how you really feel..."
He shakes his head taking a step back from her. "What's the point? You literally just told me you're having an arranged marriage. How far could this really go? Why get feelings invested?"
"I don't know," she mumbles.
"Fuck," Shy says under his breath sitting back down.
It's been only over a month since they started messing around. She's caused him headaches, high blood pressure, and heart palpitations... But that means something.
Elite stares at him quietly before joining him on the couch in defeat. "What are we doing?" she asks the million dollar question.
"I don't know." He glances over at Elite, his eyes traveling up her legs and thighs to her lips then eyes. "I know I want you," he admits.
"Then act like it," she rebuttals with attitude.
"Do you always have to have a crass response? Let me finish.." She purses her lips feeling like he told her to shut the fuck up. "How do I show you I don't want you?"
"You haven't said it."
"I'm not a talker. Actions... When I pour your sauce on your food, open doors, make sure you ate, that you're comfortable, make sure I restock on your favorite wine before you come over, wear the cologne you compliment the most," he lists like it's obvious.
This is the most Elite's ever heard him speak in one sitting. He's very much an action type of man.
"You say you're not a talker... You are. Maybe I want you to be as vocal as you are when we're intimate. That's the only place I never question you. Sometimes I want you to talk me through it like when you make me orgasm."
Shinobi sucks on his own bottom lip having flashbacks. They both chuckle even though they're trying to have a serious conversation.
"I can't fault you for wanting me to take the lead."
Women usually bring the soft side out of Shinobi. It's hard to be that way when Elite is naturally a harder woman who keeps her guard up.
He's been slowly chipping away at it. She tries to be a softer version of herself for him. They say the right man will break that hard exterior.
Elite's waiting for him to finish speaking, but when a timer goes off he abruptly gets up. He goes upstairs to the kitchen leaving her alone.
"Uh, hello?!" She watches him through the steel railings. She trots up the stairs where Shinobi's taking his dinner out of the oven. She noticed he always cooks late at night. "Are we done talking?" she asks with attitude.
"If we're going to keep dealing with one another you're going to have to learn patience. Why is everything so urgent with you?" He says calmly.
"Why is everything so not urgent with you? I like to know where I stand.. How people feel."
"You like to feel in control. That's why after the first time we slept together you immediately halted things. I wanted to go on more dates and you wanted dick."
She ruffles her hair sitting on the barstool. "Okay. What're you? My therapist?" Elite's eyes track his movements, unsure what to do or say.
Her eyes wander to that place where she found those panties. It makes her want to cut the conversation short and not go there. Shinobi thinks about his run-in with her ex... or boyfriend.
As unsure as he is, Shy admits, "I've been on you since the first link. I knew I wanted you. You were so...different. I hate that I got attached so fast. I hate that I need you forreal."
He grabs two wine glasses pouring them halfway. He scoots one across the countertop to Elite.
"Why not say that? Instead you're always trying to end this or act like you don't care."
"And you've done the same."
"You scare me."
"Why?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.
"You render me powerless. You make me feel vulnerable."
Shy stares at her with a crippling intensity. "You need reassurance to feel secure.. I don't put my feelings into words. I'm not good with those. Quite frankly, it's pointless to me. I don't know where this is going, but I want to get to know you more. I'm tryna build with you."
Elite bashfully smiles before responding, "I do too."
"I do want more. If you can't give that because of you're upcoming nuptials to this dude, let me know now." It sounds crazy saying it out loud. "We can put all this to a stop."
"Is that what you want?"
"I'm not saying that. I just don't know how to trust myself in this situation. Truthfully, I don't know if I can trust you."
"What can I do to help you trust me?"
"Like I said earlier, patience."
"Okay," Elite nods. She can tell he's contemplating on something. "Anything you want to say?"
He sticks out his bottom lip shaking his head. "Nah," he answers coolly making his way around the island.
Shy stops in front of Elite standing over her. It makes her feel small, but not with intimidation. He runs a finger across her jaw. Lifting her chin, he leans down for a soft kiss.
For a second she forgets to breathe. She always gets caught up in how his kisses are filled with so much yearning. His hand wraps around her throat, pulling her deeper into the kiss. The gentle pressure on her neck makes her moan into his mouth.
Not wanting to get too wrapped up in the moment, Elite pulls back saying, "You have to stop kissing me like that."
"Like what?" he gives a mischievous grin.
"Like you want me to stay."
"That's the point."
His hand still grasps her neck making her head lean back to look up at him. "I can't tonight." She has enough sense to know that. It wouldn't be becoming of her to stay out the first night she moves back in with Ahmet.
"Okay," he gives a quick kiss that bounces off her pillow soft pout. "Are we on the same page now?"
"Mhm," she smiles.
"We're never gonna talk about this ever again," his voice has demand. "And if I ask, you'll go on a date with me?"
Elite nods. "Of course."
At that, he walks her downstairs so she can leave. As the elevator goes down, for the first time since she entered his loft, the butterflies exit her stomach. "Oh, I'm in trouble," she bites the end of her thumb nail.
It's madness to continue seeing him knowing she has to marry someone else. If Shinobi doesn't care, why should she?
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Elite getting back with Ahmet to help her brother?
Elite still seeing Shinobi? Their talk & understanding?
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