A Tempting Proposal
“Here you go.” She handed Daman his drink. “Shall we get down to business?”
“Yes. When are you leaving for Atlanta?”
“I’m leaving this Friday, but I’m only staying over the weekend. I’ll work with the gala volunteers over the weekend. Then I have to be back in Chicago because I’m interviewing on The Jimmy King Morning Show on Z105.”
Imani sat on the couch a little closer to Daman than she had originally planned.
“That sounds great,” Daman responded, taking a sip of his drink.
She watched the movement of his Adam’s apple as the liquid slid down his throat.
Imani shifted to adjust her dress, aware that Daman’s eyes had now ventured to her breasts. She perked them outward, glad she’d worn her new Victoria’s Secret push-up bra.
“I met Jimmy King at a party we planned for Jennifer Hudson a couple months ago, so originally I was going on his show to advertise and discuss Elite Events. Now, I’m going to discuss the gala, as well. I’ve talked to the Simses and it’s been approved for me to discuss the event.”
“I’m sure you’ll do well,” Daman said with a smile. “So are you proud of everything Elite Events has accomplished so far?”
“Of course I am. Nothing beats going into business for yourself. What about you? How do you like being the vice president of Barker Architecture?”
She noticed the slight tightening of his jawline before he told her that he enjoyed it. Sensing he was uncomfortable with the subject, she decided to let it go—for now.
“Okay, so I figure the first thing I’ll do the morning after I check in to my hotel is head down to the location of the gala. I have a contact list that Mrs. Sims emailed me, so I’ll make a few calls and see who can meet me there.”
“Sounds good. Be sure to see if the volunteers are as excited about helping as Mr. and Mrs. Sims made it seem. What’s next?”
“Well, I think we should start with the guest list. I have no idea exactly how many people have RSVP’d, so I’ll need to talk to Vicky Gordon, the head volunteer. I was under the impression that catering, decorations and media are all in the works, but nothing is finalized.”
“Same here. Mr. Sims emailed me with strict instructions for both of us. The issue that seems to need immediate attention is the media. The same news shows and television stations that always televise and broadcast the gala will be there. However, we need to make sure that we still maintain a certain amount of privacy for our guests during all the pre-gala events. We want everyone to be comfortable.”
“Yes, we do. I have some contacts in the media that I can reach out to. I think I emailed so many questions to Mrs. Sims that she decided to send me a really detailed to-do list. This list covers more of what we need to do for the pre-gala events.”
Imani handed Daman the list, and her hand briefly grazed his. At the previous dinner, they hadn’t had any physical contact, making this only the third time they’d touched. She couldn’t help but enjoy how stimulating the sensation was. The glazed look in Daman’s eyes told her that he had felt it, too. She couldn’t help but wonder what sensations other body parts could create if she almost melted by the light touch of his hands.
They spent the next two hours discussing Imani’s list of things to do and calling volunteers. Much to Imani’s surprise, most of the meeting remained professional.
“Imani, I must say it was a pleasure discussing business with you.”
“It was surprisingly a pleasure for me, also,” she replied with a sly look on her face.
Daman liked the look Imani gave whenever she was being sarcastic, yet flirty. He just laughed at her comment.
“I’ll give you an update on the gala when I return next weekend.”
“Great. I look forward to it.” As Daman began walking toward the door, he saw something flicker out of the corner of his eye. He looked in that direction and noticed a gold frame on the fireplace mantel that caught the light. For some reason, he needed to get a closer look at the photo in the frame.
Daman could tell that Imani was wondering what had caught his attention. He walked over to the photograph and studied the picture with intense concentration.
“Daman, is everything okay?” Imani asked, breaking his concentration.
He couldn’t explain why he kept staring at the photo. The little girl in the picture was undoubtedly Imani. Her facial structure and features looked the same now as they did when the photo was taken, only more mature. Yet there was a slight difference he couldn’t place that had nothing to do with maturity.
“I’m fine. Who’s the woman in the picture with you?”
Imani walked over to her fireplace. “It’s Gamine.” She picked up the photo and lightly touched the frame. “It was taken when I was seven. Gamine had taken me out of town on a shopping trip. We had the best time.”
Daman knew Imani and Gamine were extremely close, so it was hard to see her look so lost as she stared at the photo. Imani set the frame back down and quickly glanced at him before her eyes settled back on the photo. In that short second, he saw the flicker of despair in her eyes.
That’s what it is. Imani’s eyes had noticeably changed since her youth. In the photo, her eyes were filled with love and happiness, yet in the few times Daman had seen her, they lacked the same elation that the photo captured. She had been a carefree child, and she now carried the weight of adulthood on her shoulders, but his inner voice told him it was something deeper than that.
Imani abruptly stepped back from the fireplace. “Shall I walk you out?”
Her voice sounded pleasant enough, but she wore a plastered smile on her face that might have appeared genuine to many. Daman knew the difference, but luckily for Imani, he wasn’t the type to interfere in other people’s business. He didn’t even know why he cared so much, and the fact that he was so curious about how she felt worried him. He decided it was best if he left before he did or said something he would regret.
“Thanks for a good evening, Imani. Have a safe flight, and feel free to call me if you need anything while you’re in Atlanta.”
“Thanks, Daman. Have a good weekend.”
After the door closed behind him, Daman tried to process his reaction to the photo. “What is it with this woman?” he asked to no one in particular before heading home.
Chapter 6
As Daman walked toward his private jet at the Chicago Aurora Municipal Airport, he massaged the back of his neck, trying to work out the knot that had developed. He didn’t know if the cause of his discomfort was due to all the commuting between Detroit and Chicago, or to the couple in the hotel room next to his who’d constantly argued until 3:00 a.m.
Yesterday, he’d called his friend Thompson Davis, better known as “Tommy” on The Jimmy King Morning Show, to see if he could be a surprise guest the same day Imani would be on the show. Daman was honest with Tommy, knowing that he would jump at the chance to pull something unexpected on the show. He wasn’t surprised when Tommy agreed.
He didn’t tell Imani he was going to be on the show and he couldn’t wait to see the look on Imani’s face when she realized he would be in Atlanta at the same time she was. After the night they’d met at her place, after that dress she’d worn to purposely throw him off his game, he knew he had to regain some ground. And keeping his appearance on the show a secret might help give him a leg up. He needed to throw her off balance, and he suspected she hated surprises.
Reaching for his phone, he quickly dialed his mom. He and his mother were extremely close. His parents had experienced several miscarriages early in their marriage, but then on his mom’s thirty-eighth birthday, she’d gotten pregnant with him.
“Good morning, Mom! How are you?”
Patricia Barker yawned softly. “Daman, baby, it’s 5:00 a.m. I love hearing from you, but why are you calling me so early?”
He laughed at his mom’s comment. “I thought you’d be up already.”
“Daman, I’m an old retired woman. I don’t need to get up at the crack of dawn—especially on a Monday.”
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving for Atlanta in a few minutes. The jet is waiting now.”
“Is this for the gala?”
“Yes, it is. I’ll be in Atlanta with my partner this week. Then I was thinking about dropping by to see you.”
“I would love that, baby. I’ve been waiting for you to come down here.”
“I know, Mom. My visit is long overdue.” Daman had not been by to see his mom since she moved to Florida two years ago. She usually visited him in Detroit.
After a few more minutes, he ended the conversation and boarded the jet.
He would be at his destination shortly, so there was no time for a nap. He had to make a quick stop in Detroit before going to Atlanta.
Daman composed himself as he exited his jet and walked toward his rental car. The meeting he was about to have would, no doubt, impact his life. Regardless of the outcome, he needed to figure out what was going on with his uncle.
He pulled into the secluded parking lot of a forest preserve for his meeting with Private Investigator Malik Madden.
“It’s good to see you again, Malik,” Daman said.
“Same here. Shall we get right down to it?”
“Yes. My uncle has been very good about covering his tracks. I’m hoping you’ll be able to provide me with enough evidence to bring him down once and for all.”
Malik looked at him with concerned eyes. “Daman, I appreciate your confidence in me, and you’re right, I am very good at what I do. If your uncle is keeping any secrets, I’ll find out, but you have to be prepared for all outcomes.”
“I understand completely. The pros outweigh the cons. For the past few years, I’ve watched my uncle carefully and something isn’t right. I need to find out what he’s got up his sleeve. It’s about time I stand up for my father’s dream.” Daman understood Malik’s concerns, but he knew this was the right thing to do. He was sure Malik had seen many people back out of investigations that turned ugly. But Daman would stop at nothing to reach his goal.
“I will contact you periodically as needed.” Malik handed Daman a large manila envelope.
“Here is an outline of your case. Everything you need to know or do is explained in this envelope. Like you said, your uncle did a very good job of covering his tracks.”
“Right,” Daman agreed. “And my father was a great businessman. The company was extremely prosperous when he was alive. It’s hard to believe that Barker Architecture wouldn’t have had enough funds to stay afloat.”
“I understand your concern and sooner or later we will figure out what your uncle’s hiding,” Malik replied.
Daman took the folder from Malik, hoping the case would get cracked sooner rather than later.
* * *
Imani eased into the luxurious hotel bathtub just as her iPhone rang. “Hello?”
“Hi, sweetheart. How was your flight?” Hope’s happy voice floated through the phone.
“Mom, I’m so glad it’s you! It was fine. How’s Fiji?”
“Oh, baby, Fiji is wonderful. Your father and I just spent all day on an amazing tour of the island.”
“That’s great, Mom.”
Imani grinned as her mom told her about the trip so far. She was happy for her parents, especially her mom. She had taken Gamine’s death the worst of all, yet she was finally returning to her old self.
“I’m happy for you and Dad. You two needed a vacation. And you seem happy.”
Imani hoped her mom hadn’t heard the slight break in her voice.
“Baby, you have to get out of this funk you’ve been in. Ever since Gamine’s death, you’ve been like the Energizer bunny, making sure everyone else is okay. I’m worried that you’re not taking care of yourself.”
Her mother was right. She couldn’t explain how she felt and knew that her mother would see through her lie if she told her she was fine.
“I know, Mom. I want you to enjoy the rest of your vacation. When will you get back to the States?”
“Your father and I are thinking about extending our vacation and going somewhere else after Fiji. But we’ll make sure we get back before the family barbecue.”
“Wow, I’m jealous,” Imani said with a laugh. “Retirement suits you both really well. I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him, too, and I’ll talk to you both later.”
“Okay, sweetie. I love you.”
* * *
Hope hung up with her daughter and sighed deeply.
“Is everything okay with Imani?”
She turned to her husband, who still looked every bit of sexy at his age.
“I guess she’s fine. I just wish I could help her out of this dismal mood she’s been in lately. I know Gamine’s death was hard on all of us, but Imani has always been the emotional and nurturing one...just like Gamine. It seems that when Gamine passed away and Imani took on her role as the nurturer of the family, she put her emotions on hold. She hasn’t been the same since. She puts up a good front, but I know better. What she needs is a man in her life instead of only focusing on her career.”
“Well, honey...” Her husband’s voice trailed off as she continued to talk.
“You and I both know there’s a reason why she really wants that estate, David. Gamine told her to invest in that estate, and Imani tries her best to fulfill all the dreams Gamine had for her. You know how much Imani hates to fail, and this man she’s working with may not let her get the estate. Even Cyd and the girls avoid her at times now. They say she’s at work twenty-four-seven, and if the girls can’t get through to Imani, I don’t know who can. Both my girls have issues with men. They need to find somebody and not focus solely on the company.”
David draped a comforting arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace. “Your compassion for others is one of the many reasons why I fell in love with you. But you have to realize that Imani needs to find her own way. And in due time, she will. Both of our daughters will. We have to be patient. Don’t you agree?”
Hope listened to her husband. He always knew what to say to calm her down.
“You’re right, honey...you’re right.”
“Well, let me show you just how right I am.”
With a smile, he placed a passionate kiss on his wife’s lips in hope of easing her worries.
Chapter 7
Imani’s hour-long soak in the tub had been much needed. After her bath, she put on her black satin nightgown and caught up on a little reading. Sitting on the balcony of her hotel room with a warm cup of chamomile tea, she listened to smooth R&B music playing in the background.
The night was so warm that it reminded her of a hot, summer night when she and the girls had taken an impromptu trip to Barbados. Ever since the company took off, they hadn’t taken many impromptu vacations. Well, Cyd took trips like that, but they hadn’t taken a trip together in a while. When she got back to Chicago, she’d be sure to mention that to the girls.
They all desperately needed a vacation. She decided she would use any downtime she had in Atlanta to relax and go shopping.
The evening breeze caught hold of her nightgown, causing her to shiver. She had requested to be on a floor with few guests, and a quick glance around the outside perimeter of the hotel seemed to confirm that the hotel had honored that request.
Imani knew she shouldn’t be wearing so little clothing on her balcony, but clothes had always been a bother to her, anyway. She preferred to feel comfortable and free. And she loved looking at the lit city skyscrapers.
Her thoughts drifted to Gamine. She quickly ran into her room and got a feather out of her stash—her personal way of connecting with Gamine. Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer to Gamine, letting the feather catch in the wind and drift into the night sky.
When Imani opened her eyes, she saw a light turn on in the room next to hers. When the receptionist at the front desk had asked her if she would mind adjoining rooms, she figured it was okay since she was assured no one else was occupying the room. Imani wished she’d made the receptionist guarantee that the room would remain unoccupied throughout her stay because clearly, someone was there now. Since Imani wasn’t decently dressed, she slowly made her way back into her room. She was just about to slide into bed when there was a knock on her door.
Slipping on her robe, she gasped as she looked through the peephole.
“It can’t be,” Imani said aloud.
She rubbed her eyes to see if she was imagining the person on the other side of the door. Only one way to find out...
She exhaled deeply and slowly opened the door.
“Hello, Imani,” Daman said in a deep, husky voice. No one ever said her name like he did.
“Hello, Daman,” Imani stated, her voice full of displeasure. “What are you doing in Atlanta? And more important, how did you know where I was staying or what room I was in?”
“You left that information with Vicky Gordon, the head of the volunteers. She informed me that she set up these arrangements for you and was more than happy to tell me where you were staying. I managed to book myself the connecting room.”
The smoldering look Daman was giving her wasn’t helping to calm the rising heat overtaking her body. Vicky obviously wouldn’t have known that she shouldn’t give out Imani’s room number to her co-gala planner, so she couldn’t be upset.
He was leaning on the outside of her door, smiling at her, knowing that she was annoyed he’d so casually stopped by.
“How long are you staying?” she asked in a dry tone.
“Since it’s the weekend, I’m staying for a few days.”
“Oh.” Imani wasn’t keen on his being in Atlanta at all but figured he knew that much.
“Vicky mentioned that you two had a meeting set up tomorrow morning at the location of the gala, so I took the liberty of inviting myself along. Is that okay with you?”
Imani knew Daman was baiting her to express her annoyance, and she refused to give him the satisfaction. “That’s fine,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Great. I’ll knock on your door at 8:00 tomorrow morning so we can head to the next meeting together. Have a good night.” And with a sly smile, Daman walked back to his room.
Imani slammed her door and went to lie down in the comfortable bed. She disliked anyone telling her what to do and she disliked it even more when she couldn’t get a word in edgewise to protest.
“The nerve of that man!” she yelled out loud.
* * *
The next morning, Imani and Daman walked into the Georgia World Congress Center and were greeted by an older couple and a group of five young men and women.
Vicky Gordon introduced herself to Imani and Daman and then the older woman introduced them to the man beside her. “This is my husband, Pete. Welcome to Atlanta, Ms. Rayne and Mr. Barker.”
Imani and Daman exchanged handshakes with the couple.
“I’m excited to be here, and please call me Imani.”
“And you can call me Daman,” Daman replied after Imani. “I’m happy to be here, as well.”
“That’s great to hear, Imani and Daman,” Vicky responded. “I’m the lead event manager here at the Georgia World Congress Center and my husband manages the facilities department. I will introduce you to a few people who flew in from Black Enterprise later today. As you know, they are hosting the gala and are very interested in discussing plans with you all and the rest of the team.”
Imani had met a lot of entrepreneurs at last year’s annual conference and respected the organization a great deal.
“I would like you both to meet a few of our student volunteers,” Vicky said, motioning toward the younger adults.
Imani noticed that each of the volunteers wore a T-shirt from The University of Georgia.
“Imani, Daman, my name is Jared Booker, and I’m the president of the Black Student Union campus organization at The University of Georgia. This is our vice president, Stephanie Rogers, treasurer, Michael Adams, editor of our monthly magazine, Paul White, and event and marketing director, Joan Griffin. We have many other volunteers from our organization who will be here to help with the gala, as well.”
Imani shook hands with the enthusiastic five, reflecting on her own drive she had in college to make a difference. “It’s very nice to meet you all. It means a lot to have student volunteers willing to dedicate their time.”
Daman seemed equally impressed with the students. “We’re glad your organization has offered to help with the gala. I look forward to working with you all.”
“Now that introductions are out of the way, we can give you two a tour of the center,” Vicky said to the group. “We’ll start with the Thomas Murphy Ballroom, where the gala will take place.”
When Imani had first walked into the Georgia World Congress Center, she’d admired the design, but thought it looked like many other conference centers. As Vicky led them deeper into the center, Imani was blown away by the breathtaking beauty of the ballroom.
The architectural design of the high ceiling was distinctively modern and the theater-style room had geometric carpeting with warm, brilliant tones. Unique sculptural designs were symmetrically stationed throughout the entire room. The overall effect was stunning.
The tour continued throughout the center, each room offering the same gorgeous decor; however, the Georgia Ballroom, where the pre-and-post-cocktail parties were to be held was Imani’s favorite. It was also the room that received Daman’s utmost approval.
“Vicky, this room is exquisite!” Daman exclaimed in complete awe.
Imani watched as he carefully viewed all the minor details of the room’s decor. His strides were slow and precise and the concentration in his eyes was mesmerizing to her. She was so intensely consumed in watching Daman that she failed to notice the observant glance she was receiving from Vicky.
“I’m interested to know the history of this place,” Daman said out loud to no one in particular. “The decor is modern so it must have been remodeled recently.”
Vicky gleamed. “My husband would be able to answer all of your questions,” Vicky said motioning toward the man beside her. “As facilities manager, he knows everything about this place.”
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