He Who Is a Friend (Sadik Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  I. Noticed. Everything.

  Now, each detail of Bilan intrigued me, including the small silver studs in her ear. She grew closer, as I did anxious.

  “The nigga upstairs think we should take advantage of this chaos and tell the commission about what Low did to us six years ago and—”

  “I gotta go, Iban.” I shifted to move out of the booth as she approached.

  Not waiting for a response, I tapped to disconnect before dropping the phone to the table. A timid smile formed on her face when she finally saw me. I didn’t give Bilan a chance when she arrived. I pulled her into my arms the moment she was within reach.

  Those fucking freckles are gonna be the death of me…

  She didn’t cover them with makeup, and that thrilled me. Quietly, I inhaled her flowery scent. This was fucking troubling; me being this taken by a woman.

  “You look angry,” she murmured in my arms.

  I pulled back, observing her smile. Then I brushed my lips across hers. “Quite the opposite. You look good.”

  If she could blush, it would have been in that moment as her eyes dashed down my body. “You always look good. I hope I’m not underdressed.”

  “Suits are synonymous with looking good?” I offered her a seat across from me, but knew it would be a challenge maintaining the distance for long. “Don’t tell me you’re one of them?”

  Her smile broadened. “One of who?”

  “The women who think a suited man is a distinguished one.”

  Bilan’s brows met. “I think you’re a distinguished man, and that has nothing to do with your suit.” She winked.

  “I like that.” I nodded. Bilan spit out a laugh, confirming her charm. “Ego-stroking will get you everywhere with me.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Like women don’t flirt with you on a regular basis.”

  I scratched my head, preparing to lie. “They don’t. And not the ones I want.”

  “How many do you want, Sadik?” One eyebrow shot into the air.

  “Just one who bakes her ass off for a popular diner. She’s about to get a degree next week and do God only knows what with her, already limited, schedule. Therefore, I need to get ahead of it so I can be a part of it.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  My agenda had been set since I decided to see her tonight.

  “I’ll get to that, but first, these.” I pushed a double shot of tequila to her.

  “What?” she sputtered a laugh.

  I nodded, finding myself smiling. “Yes. Don’t ask why, just trust me. And you have to drink all of it.”

  Bilan chewed on the corner of her lip, considering it. I was surprised—and pleased—she didn’t spend much time dithering. It took her three gulps, but she got it all down.

  My girl…

  With the burning esophagus face, she fanned herself. “You know I have to drive back to Jersey, right?”

  “You don’t have to. I can have you driven. Never worry about drunk driving with me.”

  Bilan sat back, deeply peering at me.

  “Pull out your phone.” I grabbed mine, needing to get to the next task. When Bilan’s was in hand, I asked, “First, when do you start work?”

  Her face tightened. “What work? I’m not picking up more hours at the diner just yet.”

  “For your job…in your field. I’m sure you have a job lined up. When do you start?”

  Her head shook softly. “I don’t have one.”

  “Really?”

  “Where have you applied?”

  “To grad schools.” She laughed softly, as though embarrassed. “Still undecided about which one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I haven’t decided what I want my master’s in.” She bit her bottom lip.

  It was clear Bilan wasn’t comfortable talking about it, so I decided to move on.

  “Let’s start with graduation. When does that happen?”

  “Next Thursday, at ten.”

  Shit…

  My eyes shot up to her.

  “What’s wrong?” She looked just as concerned as I felt.

  “I’m in a staff meeting that entire morning. It’ll be a working office anniversary party.” My staff had been planning it for months. I wasn’t supposed to know that a few of my clients from all over were going to call in. “And I have a mayoral fundraising ball that night.”

  With a tight smile, Bilan shrugged. “It’s not like you were invited no ways,” she joked.

  Or is she?

  “Were you planning to invite me?”

  Another beam glowed from her. “Yeah.”

  Why the hell did I feel relieved by that?

  “Okay.” I went back to my electronic calendar. “What plans do you have for Saturday?”

  “My friends are giving me a party.”

  “Where?”

  She shook her head and shrugged at the same time. “My house. Nothing fancy.”

  I went back to my calendar, rubbing my head.

  “The following weekend?”

  “My family is meeting at the beach. They want to acknowledge my graduation…” She shrugged, rolling her eyes.

  “Is it just for the day?”

  “Yeah.”

  I went back to my calendar, counting days of miss-able events.

  Perfect…

  My attention went to her. Bilan’s head was down, observing her phone, too.

  “Please tell me your passport is in good standing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m taking you away to celebrate your achievement.”

  Her eyes shot wide. “My graduation?”

  “Yes.”

  “For how long? Where?” Her eyes were wild and mouth agape.

  “For a few days. I have no idea where yet.” I rubbed my head, mumbling, “I’ll figure something out.”

  I already had an idea, but wouldn’t say. This could be good for the both of us. I needed leisure.

  Waiters arrived at the table. Our food was finally here. Bilan reclined, making room for them.

  “I came early to place the order since I have to get ahead of traffic.”

  “Oh,” she chirped while somewhat frowning at the food being laid before us. “Your niece’s recital. How cute! I wish I had a niece or a nephew. Kids are so adorable!”

  “What about having your own?” I teased.

  Closing her eyes dramatically, Bilan shook her head. “No time soon. I crave being an auntie, not a mother. Even though Abshir is a pain, I used to look forward to the day when he came home telling my mother he got some girl pregnant instead of the other crap he hit her with.”

  “Will that be all?” the waiter asked.

  Bilan’s eyes swept the table, looking overwhelmed.

  “We’re good. Thanks,” I dismissed the men.

  One nodded. “Enjoy, Mr. Ellis.”

  “What’s all this?”

  “Food.” I swung myself to the middle of the circular booth. “Food you’re going to enjoy, but let’s get you one last shot.”

  She sputtered again. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “No. But it is my goal to loosen you up.” I pushed another shot her way. “I’ll take another with you.” She went for her glass. “Ready?”

  She began to giggle. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “One…two…three, and go!”

  We tilted at the same time. I took mine to the neck, and Bilan needed two tries to empty the glass. That tickled her, too. Not drunk girl style, but with lowered inhibitions. And that’s what I needed from her.

  “Come here, Bilan.” I couldn’t curb the authority in my tone. With her, I had to be careful. I waved her over, next to me in the center of the circular booth. Wearing an infinite smile, she licked her lips and with little hesitation, she scooted my way. “Food is a huge segment of socializing. Your parents were restaurateurs; you should know. I want to socialize with you more; therefore, I need you to eat.”

  Her head swayed dramatically as she rolle
d her eyes, her smile never fading. I enjoyed its presence. It couldn’t co-exist with her comfort companion, timidity. I wanted to rid her of that personality flaw. She had too much going on for her to exhibit uncertainty. That was akin to insecurity. I slowly pulled cloth napkins onto our laps and rearranged the plates and dishes on the table.

  “Now, these are all my DiFillippo’s favorites. Last month, for our flight to Miami, I ordered based on what I didn’t know of you. Now that I’m convinced you don’t like much without a high sugar content, I know I have my work cut out for me.”

  Using a fork, I cut a piece of stuffed mushroom, observing the way the cheese stringed as I pulled it apart. I ate that piece, turning toward her as I fed myself.

  Delicious…

  Then I forked the other half and brought it to her full brown lips. “Open,” I murmured.

  Bilan steeled in her seat. She didn’t want to eat it. Not thinking too hard, I put the fork back in the serving dish and pulled her soft body into me, leaving my arm around her shoulder. I used my other hand to grip her chin, gently turning her face to me. She was beautifully stubborn. I leaned in and kissed her softly. When I pulled back, Bilan’s eyes were still closed.

  “I like your kisses. They’re transporting.”

  Her eyes blinked open.

  “What does that mean?”

  “They take me to places. Happy places.”

  I hoped she didn’t feel the unease that caused me. I liked Bilan and was intrigued by her, but was very clear on the lack of potential between us. This was supposed to be selfish fun for me. Making her happy did that for me.

  I went back for the fork and brought it to her mouth. Bilan’s forehead creased as her eyes were on me.

  “Please, baby,” I whispered. “Trust me.”

  “I do.” Her response just as soft.

  I nodded toward the fork. After a few seconds, Bilan opened her mouth. My dick twitched as I pushed the half a mushroom inside.

  “Now, chew.”

  Bilan closed her eyes and chewed slowly. I watched her closely as she breathed out, humming.

  “Good?” I held my breath until her head bounced in short movements.

  “Not bad at all,” she murmured.

  “Another one?”

  Bilan nodded. I repeated the same actions as the first time, breaking the mushroom in half and feeding myself first, then Bilan with the second.

  “Let’s move on to the mussels.” I removed my arm to prepare. “I prefer them in red sauce, but have enjoyed them in white. Do you eat pork?”

  Bilan’s face wrinkled as she chewed the mussel. I ate one myself while waiting for her to speak.

  “No. We’re Muslims. My mom never cooked it.” She shrugged with her mouth. “We never served it either.”

  I cut a piece of chicken and forked it with risotto.

  “What do you think about the texture of that mussel?” With a screwed face, Bilan shook her head. “Okay. Let’s stay away from soft meats for now. Here’s baked risotto with chicken thighs. It’s flavored with lemon and scallions.”

  I brought it to her mouth, and Bilan slowly opened for me. I went back to the dish for myself.

  “I know your mom was in utero when her family came to the States. She may have only experienced American culture if they didn’t return home often. Did your mother cook mainly Somali dishes?”

  Bilan licked her lips in between chews, her eyes shifting. “A lot, but she dabbled with American dishes, too.” She sputtered a laugh. “We used to get on her about adding her usual spices to spaghetti and macaroni and cheese. Her culture cooked with lots of turmeric, coriander, cumin, and curry. I guess it’s hard breaking old habits.”

  “Here.” I handed her a glass of water. “That should help clear your palate a little.”

  I cut a piece of parmesan chicken for myself, then her. It was fried, and the firm texture could work for her.

  “This should be good.” I fed her the chicken. Bilan chewed this faster than the previous ones. “Good?” She smiled, nodding. “You said last week how the recipes you make at the diner came from your mother. Those are southern desserts.”

  “Her mother. My grandmother had a good friend—Black woman who was a colleague. She shared a lot of her recipes with my grandmother, but my mother only took the desserts. Those, she stuck to the recipes with, and it got better with time. I would cook them with her and eventually, for her at their restaurant.”

  “I have some seafood Alfredo over here.” I reached across the table, rearranging dishes to bring new ones closer. I twirled creamy pasta in a spoon with a fork when I glanced back to find her peering over my shoulder. “This is considered a commercial recipe, but it’s delicious.” I fed her some. “Tell me you’ve had fettuccini Alfredo before.”

  Bilan licked her lips as she chewed again. I was happy to see her smile again. “Not this good, though.”

  “Good, right?” That shit excited me. “DiFillippo’s has a range of authenticity. They have their traditional Italian recipes, and even the American renditions of them. This is a combination here.”

  “Can I have more of that?”

  “Baby girl, you can have more of anything you like here.” I twirled more on the fork to feed her.

  We talked as I fed us from one fork. Bilan didn’t like every dish, but she didn’t decline anything. When she began to relax into me, her palm curled over my thigh. And when she laughed, her hand would cup my chest. I couldn’t decide if it was the company, good food, or the shots I had her take relaxing her. Either way, I wanted to see more. However, I knew time was of the essence. I would have to leave soon.

  Bilan tapped out before I did. The waiters eventually came and cleared the table to make room for dessert.

  The waiter pointed to dishes. “Tiramisu, chocolate amaretti cake, lemon ricotta granita, zeppola, sfogliatelle, and crème brûlée.” He bowed. “Enjoy.” Then he left us to it.

  “Crème brûlée is actually French,” I offered, reaching for a spoon. “I have no damn idea why they brought this when I asked specifically for only Italian desserts.”

  Bilan squeezed my thigh. “Stop it, Sadik!” she whined.

  I knew she liked the crème brûlée from our flight back from Miami last month, and wanted to tease her. I broke off a piece of the chocolate cake and tasted it. “I’m serious. I’m in my laboratory here, trying to conduct a scientific experiment and need controlled conditions.”

  “What controlled conditions?” she demanded.

  I waved my hand over the table. “Italian foods. I need to see if my subject: one, has aversions to specific foods. Two, has a problem just eating around me. Or three, has an eating disorder.”

  Bilan shook her and rolled her eyes, her smile fading. “I’m perfectly healthy.”

  “That’s for damn sure.” I playfully perused her frame. “Those hips tell me that.”

  She slapped my arm. “Stop it, Sadik,” she cried in a baby tenor.

  “I’m just fuckin’ with you—while being honest. Here. Let’s try this lemon ricotta ice cream stuff before it melts.”

  I spooned some for her. Bilan’s mouth opened before I made it to her. She was ready.

  “Mmm!” she chirped.

  “You like?”

  “It’s dessert. What’s there not to like?”

  “Oh, so your preference is sugar? That’s how you got those hips. Not those spices in your mother’s recipes.”

  While she laughed, I used a fork to cut a zeppola in half. When I fed it to her, Bilan moaned. She fucking closed her eyes and moaned. It wasn’t looking good for me. The woman preferred sweets over food. I still didn’t know why, but would enjoy the knowledge.

  “Tell me something. A secret you wouldn’t tell the world.”

  “Hmmmm… A secret for Sadik.” She giggled. “I’ll share for some of that tiramisu.” Her smile so bright, her teeth were exposed.

  I really like this Bilan…

  It didn’t take long for me to prepare the ti
ramisu and feed it to her.

  Her eyes closed again, and she hummed too sensually for public. And I started to grow in my damn pants.

  “Go for it.” I dropped a piece of tiramisu in my mouth, game for whatever.

  “A couple weeks ago…while you were on a world tour, I went to your friend’s club.”

  “What friend? I have lots of them, you know.” I went for my water.

  “Energy.” Shit… “I think her name’s Tiffany?”

  “Why would you go there?” I tried playing cool as I pulled the crème brûlée closer.

  “I don’t know. Randi told me you two were really close and… Well, as you could tell with the Ameerah situation, it appears I have jealous tendencies when it comes to you.” She shook her head against my shoulder as she mused. “I guess I wanted to see you, even if it was a different side to you. You’re still such a mystery to me.”

  “I’m trying not to be.” I fed her, her favorite.

  I’d had enough, appetite dissolving after her “secret” was shared.

  Her head shifted so she could peer up at me. Yup. Her slanted eyes gave her slight inebriation away.

  “I hope you aren’t. I don’t want games, Sadik.” She paused, eyes possibly trying to read mine. “I don’t deserve it. And I don’t want drama either. I’ve had enough for a lifetime, which is why I haven’t had boyfriends. At least when I’m just occasionally dating a guy, I don’t see him enough to set any expectations. You know?”

  “Tell me another secret,” I murmured while feeding her more.

  I waited for her to clear her mouth, closely watching those lips I wanted wrapped around my throbbing cock.

  “You feeding me is a bizarre turn on. I’m horny.” She howled in laughter so hard, she rolled to the opposite side of me, curled over in the booth.

  When she was able to calm herself enough, she glanced back at me, catching my smile.

  “That makes two of us, and there ain’t shit I can do about it.”

  The humor drained from her face. “What time is it?”