A week later, Rena refused to come out of her room like last time. Today, I had meetings on opening ACE and tracking Ted’s movements. I didn’t have Marilyn or any help with cooking like Savio had with McKayla. It made sense because the baby was coming, but cleaning and cooking was therapeutic for me. I knocked on the guestroom door, and loud music played.
Knock! Knock!
The door swung open, and my eyes scanned from her head down to her curvy frame in a b*a and panty set.
“Yes.” She crossed her arms, pushing her breasts up.
“I cooked breakfast.” I cleared my throat, not knowing where I wanted to put my hands. Her smooth, coral hue was distracting, and I darted my tongue across my lips. I needed to remind myself that this was only business.
“I’m not hungry,” she stressed, stepped back, a
