Chapter 26: This Little Piggy

My eyes peeled open to the sound of rain tapping against my window. Their repetitive knocks sounded so inviting that I was tempted to open the window. Carefully turning my head to the side, I caught the numbers on the microwave that let me know it had been approximately three hours since I put my head down on the pillow.

6AM. My body is has finally habituated to my work schedule.

Last night wasn't as rough as it could have been, physically. My feet were still sore from dancing around with Renee and Chris at our happy hour outing last night. My back was pulsing with sharp prickling pains as well, and it was no surprise seeing as to how sleeping on the floor will start to take a toll. Yet, I might have been in less pain if I didn't fall asleep in my work clothes.

I made a promise to myself not to drink. I didn't want to risk making another mistake and dwell on the man who left more messages on my phone last night.

Slow to get up from the ground, I made sure not to disturb Cinna Buns on her side of my pillow. She was was already awake, watching me with eyes no bigger than slits. In a few seconds, I could hear the soft purrs amplify, and I returned a gentle scratch behind her ears.

You are so much happier.

It was strange to admit that my growing kitten was half of my focus as I switched between looking at her still resting and out to the gray scenery blurred by nature's antics. The thought of her becoming a completely different cat was leaning more toward environment than age.

Have I changed? Am I happier?

I suppose I wasn't going to know until I still got a few more things out of the way. One of the main things being the furniture in my apartment. Thanks to the weather, my storage move was going to have to be rescheduled and I was mildly sad about it.

I'd be lying to myself if I didn't think I was going to miss the furnishings I never asked for. I scoffed with laughter at the thought, but these strange feelings about going without has been slowly creeping on me for the last few days.

Ezra. He apologized to me.

My instinct was to think that it was a lie. A faux apology was what I was used to, but he didn't give me much else to work with except for his words and the honesty behind his eyes.

If I've been lied to so much, how would I know what the truth really looks like?

This wasn't what I wanted. It was so typical to consider him in a more affectionate light. But it was so easy to do after the last time he used his key to unlock my door. I was fucked up, and he didn't like it.

That look was on your face then too.

Since that night he hasn't been the same, and I really wanted to know why.

"That's it. I'm just curious," I confirmed to myself before stepping into the shower.  

He was a rich, attractive, mysterious man– the perfect formula for any romantic story with a protagonist that can't seem to unblur the line between her a the all encompassing aura of a dark and mysterious man.

And having money is always a plus. A shitton of it.

There was hardly anything that drew me to men who used their money or looks to try to get away with everything. Then again, I've also never had a man like that make me the target of his affection...or obsession...before.

Does Ezra fall into this markup?

"Shit," I swore, quickly slamming on the 'delete' key to erase the name I accidentally typed in instead of the parameter.

It was hard not to think about him when he did gift me with a external drive that had static data on it for my little coding project. I didn't want to think that his quick turnaround time with my request had anything more to do with wanting to see if we could get the project done.

Well, after two more hours, it hit 10AM and I was happy and nervous as I composed an email with attachments of my successful sample outputs of the data he gave to me.

"And sent!" I whispered in all of my programming glory.

The algorithms were simple enough, but the part that took the most time was the many variations of parameters over the last ten years of Leoné Investments and consolidating all of the iterations into the most current and correct naming conventions. There was some explaining I would definitely have to do for him and the CIO, but I wasn't about to worry about that right now. Because I had other things to think about about like Ezra's immediate text to the email I just sent off.

"Excellent. I will take a look at your work when I am able to get my computer up and running again."

There was no way I could just leave his response there, so I went on to ask him if his work computer was on the fritz.

"My laptop. I am at home."

"Oh shoot, I'm sorry. Hopefully, it comes back soon."

"It should have after the hard reset advised by the technician, but now the computer will not start..."

I snickered to myself, "I knew you sounded way too calm before."

Knowing myself, I would be running around in circles and crying if my computer was giving me grief, so I texted him back, "How long have you been with a tech?"

"2 hours"

"?????????"

"Your last message was not clear. It only came in a series of question marks."

"Oh no, that was the exact message verbalizing my confusion as to why it's been two hours to fix your computer after a hard reset. Did they say what could possibly be wrong with it?"

"An hour ago they assumed it was a hardware issue."

"And lemme guess, you've been on hold for the last hour?"

"Correct."

"Do you have a backup of your data?"

"Yes, but it crashed during the latest backup."

"That's not good. How important was the data?"

"It's my laptop I use at home strictly for work."

"So a 20 on a scale of 1-10"

"Correct."

"Lol are you okay though? I would be screaming. You seem very calm..."

"I am far from calm actually. I have a conference call in 3 hours. I can't take the computer to the store and land at the office in a timely manner with this weather."

I bit my lower lip staring at his last response. There was a crazy idea going on in my head, and I sent it off in a text before I let too much time pass.

*

It was hard not to gawk as I entered the sky-high apartment tower. Of course, everyone knew that Ezra Leoné made his money by handling money, but I had to admit that walking into this squeaky clean atrium was mad sexy. There was not much for me to think on as the receptionist eyed me as soon as I entered.

Oh my God there is a Starbucks in here?!

"May I help you?" she asked with her chin tilted upward.

Unfortunately for her, I was still too busy looking down at the champagne marbled-floor and up to the ceiling with dots illuminating with vanilla lighting.

"Oh um, I'm... someone that lives here is expecting me?"

"Who?" she snapped, and I finally took a good look at the chick who couldn't have been older than me.

I was a little surprised by the immediate attitude of another similarly aged Black woman, but I answered, "Ezra Leoné."

"I will let Mr. Leoné know you are here," she swiftly responded, her eyes locked on me.

Shit... I like your locks though.

I couldn't give her too much shit for appearing too suspicious, when I had escaped from the thunder and rain that decided to turn wildly disrespectful for the ten minutes I had to jump into the storm after running from the train station.

But not even ten seconds later, I was given permission to disappear behind the elevator's beautiful gold panels– to enjoy a smooth ride up to the seventeenth floor.

Even the hallway was magnificent, and the walls were plain as shit with select paintings and decorations at the ends of the hall.

"It's this damn vanilla lighting!" I whispered to myself, while on my hunt for apartment '17-C'.

My eyes were still bugged out after I pressed and stared at the doorbell of the correct apartment. There wasn't too much time to dwell on the fancy aesthetics when the familiar sounds of a heavy-footed individual caught my attention. The door swung open and the immediate staredown ensued.  

"Ada," he gasped, looking me up and down.

As shocked as I was, it was a reflex for me to blurt, "I'm so sorry I'm late."

Snapping out of his daze, he quickly gestured for me to come inside, "No, you're... you're right on time."

It wasn't until I took the first step inside of his gigantic suite that I realize that I was in Ezra's home. My stomach was reflecting hard on that feeling, but I made sure to pull down the hoodie to my parka as the first steps to display my manners in someone else's home.

My shoulders slumped to removed the backpack from my back, and I was a little surprised to feel it lift away from me.

"Oh thanks," I muttered.

"Thank you for coming," he huffed, amidst obvious panic and frustration from his series of unfortunate events so far. "I do wish the circumstances were different, and that you didn't feel the need to travel through this weather. You're drenched."

I was halfway through pulling my parka from over my head when I muffled, "It's all good. Computer emergencies like this are hardly a joke."

"Ada," he quietly reproved.

My voice was still lost in the thick fabric, "Huh?!"

I saw his high and scolding brow on his face after he helped to free me from my wet parka trap. I'd be a liar if I didn't feel guilty for not dressing a little more than a graphic tee, black skinnies, and galoshes while he was in a blush blue button up with the first pair of non-offensive khakis I'd seen in a long time. However, what I had on was the quickest, and storm friendly, ensemble I had, so my guilt was brief.

My backpack was mine again before Ezra ushered me into the open space of his living room.

Damn...

It was impossible not to immediately enjoy the feeling of soft carpet underneath my anchor-patterned socks. But I had to let go of that and the comfort of the plush leather couch when I remembered exactly why I was even at his apartment.

I unzipped my backpack, "So here's the plan. You prepare for your conference call while I look at your computer..."

He sat down on the long couch across from me and hunched over with his elbows on his knees. "I would love to plan, but it's terribly hard to look at the spreadsheets with my tablet or off of my phone."

He is seriously freaking out.

I pulled out my laptop. "... and you use my computer during the call."

Ezra's confusion was instant, "But I still won't have the most recent data–"

The familiar external drive waving in my hand cut him short, and I witnessed the biggest, non-smug smile on Ezra Leoné's face for the first time. "All you have to do... is pray that they don't ask you about information that is past the date of the data on that drive, before I'm done troubleshooting. Now, may I see your computer?"

*

My earbuds were in as Ezra was sitting at a stool at his kitchen counter. He stared at my computer's screen, appearing greatly displeased while on the call.  With his ear to his phone, he crossed his arms briefly before quickly removing himself from the stool. The water pitcher from the counter was in his grip and Ezra approached me at the coffee table. My previously squeezed lemon was floating top again, and I returned a smirk as my thanks before revolving his laptop's screen toward him. Ezra's look of surprise made my brows dance in a wave many times during a quiet victory dance.

His computer was alive again, and Time Machine had been successfully running for the last fifteen minutes. All of sudden, he was sitting beside me, thigh-to-thigh, and my victory dance came to a screeching halt.

With my headphones still in, he was still staring at the screen in shock, when I understood him to ask, "May I check something on it now?"

I nodded, before blatantly looking down at our physical touch point with an open mouth. Apart from his warmness, I was getting a whiff of that smell that had put me into a tizzy days ago.

Don't sniff him!

However, I did take a moment to fake a stretch to lift up my arm and sniff myself. Of course, I was completely in the clear but the lack of proximity in the room had paranoid Ada making an appearance. I figured the best way to remove the mousiness was to literally remove myself from the issue. Yet, as soon as I stood up I felt two soft taps at the small of my back.

Not the spot.

In a flash, I dropped my attention down to him, and I removed my headphones. "Huh?!"

Ezra briefly removed his concentration from the screen when he asked, "Was it difficult to get it back?"

I smiled and shook my head, "Nope. But you do have a minor hardware issue."

He chuckled, "I should just promote you to CIO, right now."

"Aww," I snickered, before the worst sound, known to man, came out from me.

Did I just snort?!