Christmas with My Enemy (Feuding Hearts Christmas)

Chapter 6

six

TATI

Why the hell did he stop?

Jamal stopped when I thought I would get rid of my virginity. I lick my lower lip, reminding myself of how his lips tasted. He tasted like fruitcakes. I’ll do anything to taste him again.

I’m standing by the window, watching a man taking his husky for a walk in the snowy street. I imagine Jamal and me kissing last night.

He felt so good. Perfect even .

To stop daydreaming, I press my eyes shut and sigh. I wish he had finished what he started yesterday.

All the men I've met will do anything to pop my cherry. So, I’m amazed Jamal stopped when he had the chance to have sex.

I move away from the window, gazing at the massive room I slept in last night.

He’s a good guy, not taking advantage of the fact that I’m helpless, and broke. I could access my money, but I know my father has someone watching my cards.

I guess my instincts about Jamal are right. Except I really did want to have sex last night. Because this thing can go two ways, I get away or I end up marrying Stacks, and I be damned if I give him my virginity.

I’ll be Jamal.

Just as I lay my body on the bed, the creaking sound of the door makes me sit up again.

Jamal walks in with a pizza box and two cups of iced coffee. He’s wearing a white hoodie and dark sweats.

I can tell he spends hours in the gym, and he’s ripped from his shoulders to his calves.

His beard is freshly trimmed, and his fade is too.

Judging by his looks, he's in his late thirties. Jamal's lips curl into a cute smile as he shuts the door and walks toward me.

“Do you have a barber living here?” I tease, trying to break the ice.

I pressed last night when the reality is I’m scared shitless that I won’t get out of this wedding. Stacks isn’t like Beast. And I doubt he’d even care.

“Nah, he stops by a couple of times a week to keep my cut and beard fresh.”

I smile and nod, taking a cup from him. “Look…about last night.”

“You don’t have to explain. Did you sleep well?” he set the pizza box and coffee on the dresser.

I want to scream, "No." I couldn't sleep because the sweetness of his lips had me masturbating last night. But after I threw myself at him like thot, I should act civilized this afternoon.

“Yes, thank you. Pizza for breakfast?”

“Yeah, it’s almost one. And I couldn’t remember if you’re allergic to anything.” He smiles and I have a feeling I’ll dream of that smile for the rest of my life.

“I guess pizza it is then.”

As my eyes rake past his arms to his neck, I notice a scar. It’s like someone wanted to slice off his neck and changed his mind halfway. I want to ask him the story behind it, but I remain quiet. Since we now reside under the same roof, the discussion will come up later.

“Good, give me a sec,” he says.

I nod, and he rushes back outside. A moment later, he returns with a customized bag of clothes. “Here, figured you’d need something to wear.”

I accept it and drop the clothes on the bed one after the other. “Wow! Thanks a lot.” I spread the pants and tops on the bed, but I pause when I see a cocktail dress and a pair of high heels. “Do I need this?”

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "I want to take you out to dinner tonight.”

I stare at the dress, and my stomach twists. My stomach clamps when I think of him possibly working for my father. With the dress in my grip, I shake my head in confusion.

“Why?” The question emerges from a place of dread rather than curiosity. Now, more than ever, I’ve developed a personal dislike for evening gowns.

“Because I like you Tati, and if we plan to land in bed, I want to know all of you.” His firm voice resonates in my ears like a sweet melody, permeating a wave of relief all over me.

A curious smile draws on my face. “Are you indirectly asking me on a date?”

“Yes, because I think you’ll be bored staying indoors.”

“uh-huh? You sure, that’s all?” I ask, hoping he’ll cut to the chase.

“I thought you’d want to get out and enjoy the city since you’ve been locked up.”

I drop my hands to my sides. “Yes, I do. But I can go on a walk if I get stifled.”

He rests his hands on his hips. "Go on a walk and get taken by your father's men?"

It's written all over his that he wants me around. And I don't believe his story one bit, but I like that he considers my opinion important enough to lie.

I settle on the edge of the bed. “All right, thank you for the clothes. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get out of this mess.”

He inclines his head. “Eat up, and don’t bother about paying me back.”

I gaze at him, and his eyes are fixed on mine. His brown eyes send a tingling sensation through my body. His eyes travel down to my lips, and he blinks as if holding back, and I can’t help but wonder why.

“I need to be somewhere. See you at seven.” He relaxes his hands in his pockets, and I wonder if he's cold or fighting the temptation to pull me into his arms and kiss the hell out of my lips.

“Am I eating all of this alone? What about you?”

"I'll grab something on my way out." He takes several steps back, as if he’s running away from me.

“Be careful, and I’ll see you later.”

I smile, watching him go, and I look at the dress he bought for me. Excitement replaces concern, and I start counting the minutes until he returns.

By sundown, I'm halfway through with dressing. I'm staring at my reflection in the mirror, and I like how the black gown fits my curvy shape. My makeup is light because I don’t want Jamal to think I’m trying hard to impress him.

I think I look sexy. No, I’m sure I look sexy.

I love my new life now and hope nothing will ruin my freedom. I wear the matching diamond chain and earrings Jamal bought, complementing my classic appearance.

“You look stunning,” he remarks as I walk down the stairway. He wears a black suit that makes him more handsome than the last time I saw him.

“Thank you. You look good yourself.”

He curls the upper part of his lips in a suggestive smile, then grabs my hand and folds it around his arm, leading me to a sleek sports car.

Twenty minutes later, the car halts at the restaurant, and the glittering Christmas lights welcome us as we leave the car. Clusters of stars spread across the night sky, and the atmosphere’s chilly.

As we walk into the bright restaurant, Mariah Cary's All I Want for Christmas Is You plays in the background, and the lyric suddenly makes sense. Perhaps the situations around our lives will either make us relish Christmas or detest it.

We're escorted to a table by the window, and a waiter comes over to get our order. I ask him to order first. I’ve never been to this place before.

Jamal scans the menu, makes an order, and then passes the list to me. Since I like his choice, I select the same thing.

"Do you like it?" he quizzes, and I incline my head, gazing at the fancy chandeliers and table linen.

“I love it. The last time I visited a place like this, I had the worst date of my life.”

"Who?" The waiter returns with our food and set the plates on the table—two plates of grilled salmon, mashed potatoes, sauteed vegetables, and a bottle of red wine.

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles, leaning back with his wine.

I lean back, swirling the wine in my glass. "So, this guy - let's call him Mr. Ego - picks me up in this flashy sports car. I'm talking neon green, loud as hell. He revs the engine like he's auditioning for Fast and Furious."

Jamal chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sounds like a real winner already."

"Oh, it gets better," I say, leaning in. "We get to the restaurant, and he starts ordering for me. Didn't even ask what I wanted. Just told the waiter, 'The lady will have a salad.' A salad!"

"Damn," Jamal shakes his head, grinning. "He didn't know you at all."

"Right? So I speak up, order a steak, rare. The look on his face was priceless." I mimic an exaggerated shocked expression, and Jamal bursts out laughing.

"That's my girl," he says, then catches himself. "I mean..."

I feel a warmth spread through me at his words, but I push on with the story. "Anyway, throughout dinner, he keeps talking about himself. His car, his job, his salary. I swear, I could recite his entire life story by dessert."

Jamal leans forward, genuinely engaged. "How'd you make it through?"

"I started making a game of it. Every time he said 'I' or 'me', I'd take a sip of wine. Let's just say I was feeling pretty good by the end of the night."

We both laugh, and I realize how easy this is, how natural it is between us. Then I turn the tables.

"Tell me about the scar."

He huffs. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

I lean back in my chair, swirling the wine in my glass as I watch Jamal's face. His eyes darken, a storm brewing behind them as he speaks.

"Met this girl once. Thought she was innocent, you know? The one." He takes a swig of his drink. "Turns out, she was playin' me the whole time. A spy."

My breath catches. "Jamal, I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head, jaw clenching. "Don't be. It's how the world works. A man tries that shit, he's done. But a woman?" He scoffs. "They get away with it."

"Did you ever see her again?" I ask, leaning in.

"Yeah." His voice drops low. "I let her go. But her boss… He paid."

A chill runs down my spine. "What happened?"

Jamal's eyes lock onto mine, intense. "What happens to enemies."

I drain my glass, trying to calm my racing heart.

"What about this guy you're supposed to marry?" He studies me, brow furrowed. "Does he know you don't want him?"

"Yep, but it doesn't matter. It's all business," I shrug.

Jamal leans closer, his scent enveloping me. Then suddenly, gunshots shatter the air. I fly backward, heart pounding. The restaurant erupts in chaos.

"What the fuck?" Jamal growls.

I spot my father's men, guns drawn. "Shit, it's them. They're here for me."

Jamal grabs my hand, his touch electric. We sprint for the window. Glass shatters as he smashes through with his elbow. Bullets whiz past us as we leap out.

We race for his car. Just as I reach for the door, rough hands grab me from behind. Without thinking, I yank off my heel and slam it into my attacker's face. He howls in pain.

I dive into the car, slamming the door as Jamal peels out. My heart pounds in my ears.

"Where are we going?" I gasp.

Jamal's eyes meet mine in the rearview, intense and reassuring. "Somewhere safe. I got you."

I've heard that before but with Jamal, I feel protected. Wanted.

His hand finds mine across the console, fingers intertwining. And I realize, I believe him.