Chapter 6

The next morning, I woke with a lingering sense of disorientation, my mind still caught between reality and the heady events of the previous night. Monique’s dance, the raw sensuality of her voice, the charged energy between us—it had all built to a crescendo that left me exhilarated yet unfulfilled. The memory alone sent a slow burn through my body, an ache I knew I couldn’t ignore.

I took longer than usual in the shower, replaying each tantalizing detail. The way her body moved with effortless grace, the way her voice wrapped around me like silk. My skin was hot under the steady stream of water, my mind lost in the echoes of her performance. By the time I stepped out, I was no closer to clarity—only more aware of the deep, undeniable pull she had over me.

Despite my usual routine, I skipped the café that morning. I told myself it was because I was running late, but the truth sat heavier in my chest—I knew Monique wouldn’t be there today, and I didn’t want to face the hollow disappointment of an empty seat behind the counter.

At the office, I greeted my staff with the same warmth as always. They were a good team, and I never wanted them to doubt their importance. As I settled into my office, I called in Chantel. She had been with me for two decades, long enough to see through my moods with unsettling accuracy.

She stepped in, taking one look at me before a slow grin curved her lips. “You look like a man who got lucky last night.”

A sharp flush crept up my neck, and Chantel laughed. “It’s about time, John. Now, what do you need?”

I considered denying everything, but it would be useless. Chantel knew me too well. She also had a knack for picking up on undercurrents. More than once, she had hinted at Monique’s interest, but I had always brushed it off. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

“I need you to arrange some catering at my place on Monday,” I said, steering the conversation back to safer ground. “Four in the afternoon for the staff to thank everyone for their hard work.”

Chantel gave me her signature exasperated look—the one reserved for my last-minute requests. “Of course I can, John. That’s what you pay me for,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, and don’t forget to invite your neighbors.”

I smiled at that. Yvette and Francois had become part of these gatherings by default. Yvette had been Chantel’s friend since school, and Francois had taught many of my employees’ children. At every event, the two women could be found in a corner, laughing and catching up as if no time had passed.

After Chantel left, I buried myself in work—emails, client calls, the mundane yet necessary tasks that kept my company running. At one o’clock, I picked up the intercom and announced, “Attention all staff. Wrap up whatever you’re working on and start your weekend early. Thank you for all the hard work. I appreciate you all.”

The muffled cheer that followed made me smile. Happy employees were productive employees—a philosophy that had served me well.