The Venture Capitalist (25 page)

I stop speaking to allow her to reply, because she’s searching my eyes as if she’s hoping I didn’t literally mean every word I just said.

“That is so foreign to me. It goes against everything I’ve ever observed or been taught about relationships between a man and woman.”

“I know it does, but if you let go and let me teach you, you will come to appreciate the lifestyle as much as I do or maybe more so. Submissives get the lion’s share of the benefit from this type of relationship, hands down.”

Her expressive eyes make the trek from our first meeting up until now, and I can see when she finally resigns herself to accept what is between us. There is a powerful, heady connection that we share. Romance can be part and parcel of the Dominant/submissive relationship if she’s able to let go of the societal image of romance and embrace my kinky world. I can tell she’s not ready to give up what I’ve introduced her to just yet.

“I’ll try to think more like a submissive and not so much like a girl looking for her knight in shining armor.”

“Good, because my armor was tarnished so long ago it will likely never shine again.”

She brandishes a naughty smile. “There may be hope for you yet, Sir.”

“That will have to be a debate for another day. You have a business to open up first thing tomorrow morning, as do I.” I stand and pick up the bag I brought in with me. “But, before I go, I have something for you.”

“What more could I need that you haven’t already provided?”

“I like that you feel that way, but there is something of mine you covet, which you deserve to have a supply of your own.” I reach into the bag and pull out a bottle of the European mousse I use. She looks genuinely please by this gift. Usually she fights tooth and nail not to accept gifts from me.

“Aw, thanks, Tristan.” She leans in to give me a quick one-armed hug. “My hair always looks so much better after I’ve spent the weekend at your place.”

“I noticed you liked it and my supply was dwindling faster than normal, so I asked Mrs. Naven to double the order. This came Saturday, but I forgot to give them to you before you left today.”

She hugs the bottle to herself as if it is precious. It is then I realize this gift is something a boyfriend in a conventional relationship would get for his girlfriend, and I sincerely hope Ms. Beale isn’t receiving my mixed signals as loud and clear as I’m sending them.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Three months fly by quickly and I am content having Keisha as my submissive. It never occurs to me to slow down—to really think about how the trajectory of our relationship might be headed for disaster. Ms. Beale and Ms. Jameson’s work ethic is comparable to mine, and Kente Studio Records begins to run like a business that has been a going concern for years.

They were moving toward being in the black within a year, but then I noticed they began hemorrhaging profits when the tentative first quarter numbers were sent to me.

I call Keisha on the morning I receive the financial statements. Mind you, their capital outlay is a drop in the bucket compared to projects I usually fund, but I don’t like to lose. Ever. It’s more about the business failing than the money lost at this juncture.

“Keisha, you want to tell me what the fuck’s going on over there?” I say without even saying hello.

“We aren’t sure right now, but Jada and I have our two best financial people going over the numbers as we speak. I’m hoping we’ll have more information in a day or two.”

“Not good enough. You’ve got until close of business tomorrow to sort this shit out.”

“Hey, we’re just as anxious to fix this as you are. You don’t have to be so damned snippy.”

“I don’t do snippy,” I say using her terminology. “This is me being the pissed off head of the company that doesn’t want you running my investment into the fucking ground.”

She sighs. “Okay, Jorge and I will jump in and see what we can dig up.”

“Keisha, if we can figure out the source of the shortfall, we can brainstorm some measures to fix it.” I am extending myself in ways that I don’t normally do for clients, but then I don’t sleep with my other clients. As her Dominant, Keisha’s well-being falls firmly within my purview, and this snafu is threatening that right now.

“We’re going to stay on past closing until this is figured out, which means I can’t attend your charity function tonight.”

“I’ll see if Darnelle is available to go. She cleans up pretty nicely when she’s not wearing cargo pants and basketball jerseys with copious gaudy jewelry.”

Keisha laughs, and my job is complete. I have defused the incendiary situation somewhat, and hopefully abated the stress of pulling what could possibly be an all-nighter for the KSR team.

“You and she are like siblings in many ways. It would’ve been nice to know about that jacked up rivalry you two had going on before I came into the picture.”

“So, she shared a bit of our competitive history?”

“Yeah. We spent some studio time together a while back and I did some background vocals on a few of her cuts for her new album.”

I don’t speak about anything further, as the judicious thing to do would be to talk to Darnelle before I let some skeletons out that I wouldn’t be able to return their proverbial closets.

“So, we’re good now?” I say.

“Well, not until we figure out the business side of things here at KSR so you can help us fix it.”

“Give me an update tomorrow morning,” I say.

“Will do…Sir.”

“You minx.”

She laughs and hangs up before I can say anything else. I should never have told her what calling me
Sir
does to me.

“Where’s that fine assed submissive of yours tonight?” Darnelle asks when she enters the limo looking like a proper lady in a cream-colored floor-length gown.

“She’s working late,” I say. “Is that something you ever do?”

“All the time,” she says as she arranges herself on the bench seat so her nice dress doesn’t wrinkle. “You know, you should shadow me sometime because recording is no joke. Sometimes we’re in studio all night. And touring is fucking exhausting.”

“Tell that to my housekeeper who works ten to twelve hours a day every day.”

“All that demonstrates to me is that you should give her some time off.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried. She’s a work-a-holic, like me.”

“No wonder you two get along so well.”

“Well, that and she sees me as her surrogate son.” What I don’t mention is how much Mrs. Naven loved my mother like the sister she never had. I got her by default when Lydia, my father’s new wife began to make her life a living hell.

“All the more reason you shouldn’t work the old broad to death.”

“I’m not,” I protest, but her dig has me thinking now about what I can do to lighten Mrs. Naven’s load. For starters, I suppose I should insist she visits her own family more. I mentally place that on my to-do list.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Darnelle says.

I don’t construct a come-back right away. I’m thinking of a way to broach the subject about what she’s told Keisha about us. Fuck it. I just go for it.

“Hey, so Keisha tells me that you two had a conversation about our competitive history. I thought you didn’t want her to know you were a blue blood?”

“That was before you decided to keep her around for a while.”

“What makes you think I’ve decided that?”

“Tristan, you gifted me a handsome sum not to sue her for physically assaulting me even though an explanation and apology would’ve sufficed for me.”

“I just decided not to make you pay me back for fronting the money for your new album and videos. You’re the one who was all, ‘I should sue her ass for marring my face.’”

“At that time I thought I might have to have plastic surgery to fix the damage she’d done, not to mention hiring a PR firm to mitigate the situation, because Princess Danai has an image to maintain.”

“You and your precious street cred.

“It’s a real thing, my friend.”

“If you say so. Okay, so what specifically did you share with her?”

“I didn’t tell her about you popping my cherry if that’s what you’re asking.”

I narrow my eyes at her, “And did you tell her about me training you as a Domme?”

“I’m a woman, Tristan. And even though I like other women, I know a little bit about boundaries.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, then say nonchalantly, “I just need to know how to respond if it comes up again. Thank goodness today there was another situation going on with her business, so she didn’t ask a lot of questions.”

“You and Ms. Beale are behaving more and more like you’ve got a girlfriend/boyfriend situation going on.”

I shake my head vehemently. “That is not what we have going on.” My rebuttal sounds a bit like mockery, and Darnelle narrows her eyes.

“Me thinks the Dom is protesting too much,” she teases.

“You can quote your half-assed Shakespeare all you want,” I say. “As long as Ms. Beale knows the score, I’m not concerned with your observations.”

She shrugs. “Listen, It doesn’t matter a whole hell of lot to me either way. Just don’t come complaining to me when Keisha begins to desire something you’re not willing to give.”

Darnelle’s words ring with more truth than I’d care to admit. I have begun to fear more and more that Keisha won’t be able to keep her feelings as firmly boxed in as I’m able to keep mine. That being said, there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot I was willing to do about it right now, because Keisha has become such a fixture in my life, I am loath to let her go.

When Darryl notifies me that Keisha is on her way up, I fondly recall the last time she was in my office for the signing of the KSR contract, then I remember that she likely has some news about the KSR financial situation which is the reason for her unannounced visit today. I also chide myself for my sappy reaction given what Darnelle and I discussed the night before.

Be that as it may, I’m glad I already instructed my reception staff to grant her access anytime she shows up on site. By virtue of being seen on my arm, the media has elevated her to more than just submissive status, and my social standing demands that we perpetuate their reality.

Darryl ushers Keisha into my office and closes the door, and I dial my smile down a few watts courtesy of existing in my conflicting headspace too much.

Ms. Beale is a vision of loveliness, as ever. Compliments of my personal shopper, she always looks runway perfect in suits that are specifically tailored for her toned form.

I wonder what she’s thinking as she stands coyly before me, my mind replaying our most recent weekend together in the Grotto. I stand and move from behind my desk to greet her.

“Hi,” she says, as soon as Darryl closes the door. She wrings her hands, and that move is downright adorable.

“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” I hug her close, and then lean back to look into her eyes. “You must have good news about the numbers.”

“Absolutely. I knew there had to be some kind of mistake. And there was.” She’s animated as she begins to tell me how KSR only looked as if it had been in the red, when it fact, it actually wasn’t.

“As you know the quarterly financial reports showed that profits had dropped thirty-five percent. We knew this had to be an anomaly because, Jorge assured us as we neared the end of the quarter that we we had about fifty thousand plus unique new users on the site in month three.”

“The last operations report bore that out as well,” I say. “So what happened?”

“We went over everything again, several times, but our financial reports still weren’t agreeing with the operational reports. Then Jorge came to the rescue and figured out that a glitch in the program, more like an oversight which entailed him opening the site once the regional pilot was done, to flip a switch when we expanded nationwide had not been done.”

“Let me guess. He didn’t tweak the fucking program when he was supposed to.” I say.

She laughs. Hard. “Can you believe it? More than a hundred and fifty thousand payments were sitting out there in cyberspace with nowhere to go. If Jada hadn’t pulled an online printout of our banking statements, we’d still be trying to identify the shortfall until next week when we got the paper statements in the mail…”

When she realizes I’m not laughing with her she stops talking. I don’t speak until I’m sure of what I just heard, and because I wanted to make sure the mistake was squarely on her cousin, Jorge, who has a goth/emo junkie he’s in love leading him around by his dick.

“You have the revised financial statements?” I say, and extend my hand for the documents she’s holding.

She hands me the portfolio with the revised financial statements completed by the anal-retentive Ms. Jameson, no doubt. I skim each page, to confirm their bottom line.

“Jorge’s error almost forced you to liquidate in your first quarter of business.”

“It was an honest mistake brought about by stress in his personal life. It won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t.” I look up from the report squarely into her eyes. “Because you’re going to fire him.”

I return to my desk and lay the portfolio down. Keisha has a delayed reaction to what I said, but after a few beats she responds with much vehemence, and in a way that harkens back to grade school.

“I’m not going to do that, and you can’t make me.”

“Your cousin is careless. If he allows his personal life to stress him out to the point where he makes a mistake of this magnitude, we don’t need him working for Kente Studio Records.”