Chapter 9
The next morning, dressed and ready for work, Brenda paused as she entered the kitchen—her breath catching. There he was, sitting quietly on a chair, the soft clink of his stirring spoon echoing in the stillness.
"Trespassing," she said flatly, opening the fridge and pulling out a glass jug of milk. Placing it on the table, she spooned bran cereal into a bowl, trying to steady her racing heart.
Kai smirked, eyes sharp with mischief.
"Is that not a bit too official?"
She rolled her eyes, pouring the milk without meeting his gaze.
"I saw you last night."
Her voice was cool, almost indifferent. "Okay."
"Just okay?"
Her eyes finally lifted to meet his—an unspoken war waging silently.
"What were you expecting?" she asked, voice low.
"Wow," he breathed out, a mixture of disbelief and something darker.
She said nothing.
Seeing her silence, Kai pressed on, voice hardening.
"I saw you kiss him."
She studied him, unreadable. "Okay."
"Did you do that to spite me?" He stood, stepping closer.
"Did you fuck him?" His question was hoarse, ragged, laced with desperation.
She straightened, glaring. "I actually did. Now move and get out of my house—I have companies to run."
She moved to leave, but he blocked her path, his eyes blazing.
"Uh-uh. You're not fucking your way into my life… ever."
His lips curled in a bitter smile.
"I fucked my way into your life?"
"You did. And I'm not arguing. I'm in a good mood this morning—I have work."
Kai sneered. "I guess he really stroked you well if you're ignoring me. Sleeping with everyone you see, Belair. What a shame."
She lied,matching his venom, voice sharp.
"Sleeping? Like we had time to sleep! That man's a beast—worked me out all night."
Kai's voice dropped low, possessive.
"But you know I can do better."
She laughed, bitter but defiant.
"I doubt it. That man made me edge seven fucking times. Anywhere. Now I'm locking my house, so… out we go."
Grabbing her keys, she strode outside, locking the door behind her like a fortress.
Kai reached for her, trying to kiss her, but she shoved him away, cold and unmoved.
She got into her car and drove off, adrenaline mixing with frustration.
---
The office smelled like ambition and polished success. Brenda strode in, spotting Greg lounging in her chair.
"Boy, get your ass off my seat!" she ordered, dropping her bag.
Greg stood, grinning.
"How'd the date go?"
"Better than expected."
"Second date worthy?"
"Oh, more than that," she winked.
They had grown comfortable—Greg her friend, confidant.
"Sir Kai's delivery is done. Now only 'A Round Per Breath' left."
Brenda raised an eyebrow.
"Never heard of it."
"Reign Clubs changed their name."
She yawned, stomach growling.
"What's for lunch? I'm starving."
Greg laughed.
"It's only 11:30!"
"Exactly. Planning ahead."
"Burritos."
"The café doesn't sell those."
"Eatery around the corner—best burritos ever."
"Fine. Go get them. I'm starving."
Greg lingered, expectant.
"What?"
"Money, madam."
"You know I've been buying you lunch since you got here."
"Because you're the boss. Now dig into that purse."
She pulled out two notes—one hundred and twenty. Greg snatched the hundred, already halfway out the door.
"Transport fee!" she called after him, smirking.
She glanced at her phone just as Halle entered.
"Madam, someone's here to see you. Says he's a friend."
Only one person usually showed up unannounced—Nella. Curious, Brenda said, "Let him in."
The door opened to reveal a tall man, dressed sharply in a navy turtleneck and black suit.
"Christian!" she exclaimed, surprised.
"How are you, my lady?" He took her hand, kissing it smoothly—old-fashioned, respectful.
"I'm fine. How about you?" His scent filled the room, strong and refined—perfect for a man of his stature.
They sat, and Christian handed her a package of food—just what she wanted.
"I was nearby, thought I'd stop by. Couldn't come empty-handed—lunch hour and all," he smiled warmly, teeth bright and flawless.
She laughed. "Greg went to get something but he's taking forever. I guess I'll eat yours."
She unwrapped the lasagna; the rich aroma filled the room. Christian watched her—admiring or critiquing, she couldn't tell.
Suddenly, the door slammed open—Greg burst in.
"What? Eating without me?" he teased.
"Traitor," she laughed. "You took forever. Christian saved me."
Greg plopped on the couch.
"Well, Christian, seems you've taken a liking to our company. This office, to be exact."
Christian grinned.
"What can I say? Your company holds the most attractive woman I've ever seen."
Brenda smiled, washing her hands.
"Thank you!"
"Anytime," he replied.
"So, dinner at my place? I'll cook." Brenda offered.
"Sounds good. You'll text me the address?"
"Six-thirty." She set the time.
"See you then, madam." He kissed her cheek. She blushed, resting her head on the table.
She wasn't much of a cook, but she'd find a way.
After work, she stocked up on fresh ingredients and protein, then headed home.
While slicing oversized bell peppers, the doorbell rang.
"You're early!" she smiled, wiping her hands.
Christian stood there, still punctual as ever.
"Don't arrive on time—arrive before time. That's my motto."
He stepped inside.
"Smells good already."
"I haven't started yet," she laughed.
He handed her fragrant roses and a bottle of champagne.
"Thank you!" She placed the vibrant flowers in a vase—life breathed into the house.
Back in the kitchen, Christian noticed her uneven knife skills.
"Need a hand?"
"Honestly, yes."
He took over.
"What's the plan?"
"No idea. Minced bison, chicken, steak, veggies—all over the place." She called out everything she had.
"How about stir fry and steak?"
"Perfect."
He led her to a chair, pouring her a glass of wine.
"Nice," she said, sipping.
"Want something? I have plenty of liquor."
"Double scotch on the rocks," he ordered, sautéing peppers.
She poured and handed him the bottle.
"Belair scotch, huh? Impressive."
Dinner was ready, and they settled in.
"So, Brenda, how's living alone in this big house?"
"Used to it. Otherwise, what would a grown woman almost at menopause be doing without a husband, kids… or even grandchildren?" She laughed at herself.
Christian nodded thoughtfully.
"Many men must have tried their luck."
She hesitated, eyes dimming.
"I think a man has something to do with this."
Her once bright eyes clouded as she looked away.
Sighing, she met his gaze again.
"Come with me," she said, leading him to her painting room.
Large portraits of Kai lined the walls.
"Have I seen this man somewhere?"
"Yes. Kai. He was at the restaurant the other day. The first—and only—man who ever touched me. The only man I ever loved. Nobody else could awaken what he did inside me. I don't think anyone can."
Tears shimmered in her sandy brown eyes, vast and deep like endless dunes catching the sunlight.
Christian placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Maybe it's because you don't believe it yourself. You have to let him go to move on."
He sounded just like Nella—warm, insistent, like a lifeline tossed into her turbulent sea.
Brenda found herself narrating, her voice low, recounting how she and Kai met, how he disappeared and reappeared, the chaotic escapades that followed like a storm that never quite passed.
"So, if he's back… isn't that a good chance for you two to get together?"
She laughed, a sound brittle yet tinged with longing.
"Hahaha! If only that were possible. He's engaged."
Christian sipped his drink, watching her carefully. The conversation was a minefield; if they lingered on Kai much longer, she might crumble.
Gently, he took her hand and led her back to the living room, away from the edge.
"I really like you, Brenda. I enjoy your company. You're an amazing woman—give yourself a chance. Try to look past Kai. Honestly, I wouldn't mind being the one who heals you."
Brenda's heart beat faster, uncertain—was this a confession or a comforting embrace? She lifted her glass to his. Instead of clinking it, he leaned in and kissed her.
Her eyes widened—frozen yet unwilling to pull away.
Sensing the silence, he broke the kiss, murmuring,
"I'm sorry, I didn't…"
She cut him off, claiming his lips again—this time with fiery passion.
It wasn't Kai's reckless fire, but a softer warmth, tender and kind. For the first time, it felt… good.
She broke away, breath shallow, reaching to unbutton his shirt.
"No, Brenda," Christian said firmly, buttoning the first undone button.
"I don't want this to happen impulsively. I can't."
"But we could… please. I need—"
"We're not there yet," he interrupted.
Her voice dropped to a plea.
"Then let me take us there."
Christian shook his head, resolute.
"You're different. I don't want us to just… fuck. I want us to make love—under circumstances where we both feel it."
She nodded, words lost in the depth of his gaze.
Realizing she wouldn't be comfortable that night, he stood.
"Goodnight, Brenda."
Alone again, she lay on the couch, eyes closed, remembering his soft lips—wondering how different things might have been if he hadn't stopped her.