Rival's Desire. AlTonya Washington

      “Oh my…goodness,” Viv breathed, her midnight eyes widening when she stepped past the double doors leading to the president’s suite. “They’ve redecorated since I was here last. Look at this.”

      “I know,” Caesar agreed, taking in the plush elegance of Francine and Carlotta’s office.

      The room was magnificent. It looked less like an office and more like a combination living room, dining room. In the far corner, there was a built-in bookshelf stocked with as many horror, romance and psychological thriller bestsellers as there were business manuals, newspapers and financial journals. Between the polished oak shelves was an impressive glass bar and a small white refrigerator. A fabulous white-leather living room set sat before it. On the opposite side of the office were two glass desks that faced each other. On the wall next to them was a built-in black entertainment center trimmed in gold. A huge TV and stereo sat there. The shelves held a DVD player and movies on one side, a hefty stash of jazz, R&B and classical CDs on the other.

      “Damn, when do they find time to work?” Caesar teased, inspecting the titles in the movie collection.

      “I’ll say,” Vivian agreed, though both she and Caesar knew their grandmothers deserved the best.

      Francine and Carlotta began the D.M. Doll Factory right out of the Brooklyn housing project they lived in as young women. When their husbands left for work, the two of them spent hours designing dolls and clothing. It was just a hobby, something to keep their minds off the reality of living in such poor conditions. When a business fair came to the city one year, Francine and Carlotta took a chance and showed their ideas to a young man seated at a bank booth. He thought the ideas were so great, he talked his bank into fronting them cash to produce the dolls. Moreover, he educated them on the procedures for starting and running a successful business. The factory flourished out of their tiny apartments, then into the houses they moved to later that year. Soon, the need for even more space became necessary.

      Vivian took a seat behind one of the desks and turned the dark, tanned swivel chair to the windows. “Caesar, remind me to thank Miss Francine and my grammy for my gorgeous new office.”

      Caesar, who was still kneeling in front of the movie case, looked up at Viv and frowned. “Your new office?”

      “Mmm…” Viv confirmed, enjoying the myriad city lights twinkling in the distance.

      “I know you don’t think all this is yours?” Caesar queried, rising to his full height.

      Viv was twisting her chair to and fro, basking in the success that surrounded her. The tone of Caesar’s voice didn’t affect her at all. “Until Miss Frankie and Grammy get back, it is.”

      “The hell you say!”

      “What?” Viv replied, turning the chair around. She saw Caesar standing behind the other desk, his fists braced on the glass top.

      “There is no way you get to have all this, Viv,” he coldly assured her.

      Viv’s gaze widened. “You can’t possibly want this office?”

      Caesar’s long brows drew close. “Why the hell wouldn’t I?” he barked, spreading his arms wide. “Look at this place.”

      “Yes, look at it, Caesar,” Viv prompted, standing behind the desk. “It’s clearly a woman’s office and since this isn’t a permanent thing, there’s no time for you to clutter it with sports magazines, basketball goals and your weight machines.”

      Caesar’s thick lashes closed over his striking amber stare as he struggled to control his temper. “That may be so, Plum, but I’m not about to give this place up to you.”

      Viv massaged her neck. “We’ll just have to share it, then.”

      “It worked for our grandmothers,” Caesar retorted, taking a seat behind the opposite desk.

      Headed to the bar, Viv cast him a tired look over her shoulder. “Yeah, but they are friends.”

      Caesar’s deep chuckle rose and he leaned back to prop his long legs on the desk. “Ah, Plum, I’ll hate it when you leave.”

      “Ah, Caesar, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Viv assured him, pouring herself a glass of wine.

      “Let’s get to work, shall we?” Caesar advised, rising and moving away from the desk to grab the folders off the coffee table.

      Viv took a seat on the long sofa. “I thought you’d never ask.”

      Finally, the two of them settled down to work. They spent close to two hours reading files. Afterwards, they tossed questions and ideas back and forth. Not once did it occur to them that they were getting along so splendidly. Soon, they were sharing the sofa.

      Vivian began to sing softly as she scanned the last file on her list. She didn’t notice Caesar watching her. He had set his papers aside and was sitting with his elbow propped along the back of the sofa.

      “That sounds so good,” he whispered, gaze soft.

      Viv glanced up at him and smiled. “Thanks.”

      Caesar turned his attention back to his papers. “Would you sing for me sometime?”

      “Ha!” Viv bellowed, slapping her hand against her thigh as she laughed. “Yeah, right!”

      “What’s wrong?” Caesar cried, a murderous frown beginning to cloud his face.

      Viv pushed her thick curls away from her face and pinned Caesar with an amused glare. “Caesar, please, do you remember the last time I sang in front of you?”

      Caesar shifted his huge frame on the sofa, grimacing at the sound the leather made. “I don’t remember that.”

      Viv set her papers aside. “In high school? Your grandmother had that big cookout before our senior year?”

      “Oh yeah…yeah I remember now,” Caesar whispered, nodding his head. “That was somethin’ else.”

      Viv’s smile was far from humorous. “Yeah, it was somethin’ all right. I got up to sing and all I could hear was you giggling and talkin’ in the back.”

      “I did that?” Caesar asked, feigning shock. He pressed one hand against his chest and his slanting, deep-set stare was mockingly innocent.

      “You know you did that,” Viv told him, her black stare narrowing. “You were so loud, I heard you say I sounded like a man.”

      Caesar’s full, rumbling laughter burst forth. He fell face-first onto the sofa, pounding his fist against the leather cushions. Vivian began to kick him with her foot.

      “I’m sorry, Plum!” he cried, almost breathless from laughter. “I was just a kid!”

      Viv punished him with another shove from her foot. “That’s no excuse!”

      Caesar held his hands over his head to ward off the blows. “Plum, I was too young to appreciate your singing then.”

      Viv couldn’t help it and her contagious laughter soon filled the office. “Good try, but I’m not fallin’ for it.” She moved to leave the sofa. Caesar’s large hand closed over Viv’s ankle and he stopped her.

      “I’m