No way was he going to let a beautiful woman like her get away.

That little pet groomer girl was intriguing to him, simply mesmerizing. Ever since that moment he met her, he could not stop thinking about her. She had to know she was drop-dead gorgeous and that many men must lust after her. Yes, lust, he wanted to have sex with her.

He was Richard Richardson after all, King of the City. Whatever he wanted he got, and he wanted Galilahah, or Pretty as he was going to call her. There was something about her, beyond being gorgeous. She wore brown locs down to her waist, which were a bit crinkly and pulled back by a headband. Her face was clear of make-up and flawless, which was rare for younger girls like her. She looked at least to be twenty-one, or at least he hoped.

She had almond-shaped brown eyes and full thick lips. He imagined those lips doing things to parts of his body.

He shook the thought from his head. He was back at work and needed to focus. If his father knew he was daydreaming about a woman he met at a dog groomer of all places, he would never hear the end of it. His father did not put him in charge of the family business at the young age of twenty-six simply because. His father put him there because although he was young, he was ready. His father groomed him to take over the real estate business since the day he was born.

Elaine and Richard Richardson II's only child. His mother wanted more kids, but they were never blessed with more. So they showered him with lots of love and affection and everything that money could buy. Richard only had to think about it and his parents bought it for him.

Every new electronic gadget before it hit the shelves. Every toy a child could want and more. A brand new luxury car at fifteen so he could practice a year before his license, then another new car at seventeen because no Richardson should be seen in a car over two years old. Private schools from K-12 including St. Louis University High School, an all-male Jesuit school. Since his parents were from the city, built their business in the city, and owned several properties in the city, no other schools out of the city limits would do. Very few wealthy Black families stayed in the city of St. Louis, most moved out to nicer neighborhoods like Ballwin, Chesterfield, or Wildwood.

Their mansion was in the gated West End area of the city and his neighbors were judges' kids, politicians, and the filthy rich, along with racist white families. Like the gun-toting family in front of their house during a protest...a few blocks down from his parents' house.

For the most part, the younger generation around him was more carefree and open-minded. He had friends of all races, in fact, he never cared what race people around him were. All his friends from high school he was currently still friends with them, and then he picked up more from college while he attended Howard University before he moved back home.

He was only sixteen when he graduated high school, twenty when he finished undergraduate college, and twenty-two when he earned his Master's from Washington University. At twenty-four, he gave his all to Richardson Realty and grew the business tenfold. So he was not handed his father's company, he earned it. His parents were now semi-retired, meaning they never worked but came into the office whenever it hit them to reminisce.

Both his parents built Richardson Realty, but it was in great hands now. He took his work seriously. Nothing could distract him.

Except, a beautiful woman when he wanted her.

He did not get it, most times if he wanted a woman, he got them.

When he went to pick up his mother's dog, he was disappointed that she was not there to greet him. He asked for her. He asked more questions than he should have to the older gentleman who maybe thought he was a stalker now.

After dropping the dog back home so his father could watch the beast, he figured out a way to get Ms. Pretty to give him some attention.

"Mrs. Wilburn, I need you please."

He paged his executive assistant to his office. She worked for the company almost longer than he was alive. Twenty-four years and she still loved what she did. Most people would not stay in one place that long, especially not the younger generation. Unless they were the boss, they moved freely from job to job. There was nothing wrong with that at all. For Mrs. Wilburn, she was family by now and even helped raise him sometimes when he came into the office as a kid.

He was happy she decided to stay on as his assistant after working with his father for so many years.

"Yes, Richie."

He grimaced at her calling him the name she always called him and would not stop. "I'm your boss now, Mrs. Wilburn, it's Mr. Richardson."

"The hell I will." She stood defiant, holding her tablet in her hand ready for whatever he asked of her to do. "I changed your diapers, wiped your bottom, and blew your snotty nose, you were Richie then, and you're still Richie now...boss."

He had to agree with her. "Okay, okay." Though she could be less formal to him, he refused to call her anything but Mrs. Wilburn.

He tried to forget that her name was Angela at all costs. "Mrs. Wilburn, I need you to order the biggest, best box of Godiva chocolate and send it to the address I texted you."

"What girl now?" Mrs. Wilborn looked over her tablet, noting the name and address of his current lustful thoughts. No lie, they had done this routine a time or two.

"What do you mean-"

"Don't play dumb with me. In the last two years of working for you, I seem to see a pattern with how you meet and throw away the women in your life."

"Wait, are you talking to me as your boss...or as someone who has changed my diapers? I mean, it's grown in size," he added with a smirk to her.

"Don't be crass, Richie. You've gone through so many girls over the years."

"I'm young! And I think nice looking. At least that's what the ladies tell me. WP Isn't this what I'm supposed to do?" Or settle down very young like his parents? That was surely what his mother wanted.

"Break girls' hearts like you did with-"

"Don't say it!"

"Humph!" Mrs. Wilburn placed her tablet on his desk and gave him her full attention. "Tell me all about the lucky girl that is your next adventure."

He had a way with the ladies, what could he say? He came a long way from his youth when girls would not give him the time of the day. Head buried in his books studying, grooming was not at the forefront. The girls would call him nerd-boy, geek, four-eyed, or acne-face. All that changed once he became a man and cared about his appearance.

LASIK eye surgery to correct his sight, no more glasses. Professional facials every week, no more acne. The best skincare regime any man could have, his skin was like butter now, smooth and blemish-free. Money mattered with things like that. He was able to afford top-of-the-line products. A barber who came to his home or even work to make sure his hair stayed perfect. Manicure and pedicure as needed. All of this and women started to give him attention. There was not one he could not have.

And he wanted her.

But after Mrs. Wilburn had the big, expensive box of Godiva chocolates delivered to the pet store, the gift was returned to him, unopened at the end of the day. Every woman loved chocolate, maybe she was one of the few that did not.

The next day, he sent flowers. He could not lose with this. Red roses, two dozen of them with a nice note. Surely getting that lavish gift, while at work, she would swoon and know he meant business.

It was returned.

The next day he thought about it. She didn't like the candy. She did not like the flowers. She worked at a pet store, so that meant she liked animals. He tasked Mrs. Wilburn to order a crystal dog figurine, worth a pretty penny and delivered it to her.

All day he wondered if she smiled when she saw it and what his reward would be for putting thought into the gift.

It was returned to him not immediately but the next day.

Maybe he should give up. This girl was not interested in him.

And then he thought of the perfect gift.