Page 171 of Tainted

“I’ll give you two a minute,” he said, giving Kenyon a knowing look before disappearing into the house.

The door clicked shut, and Kenyon’s hand slid from my leg to my back, rubbing gently so everything seemed less heavy.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“You wanted this, and now it’s sitting in your lap, and you’re trippin. Wassup with that?”

I sighed, leaning into him, “I’m pregnant, Kenyon. Recovering from childbirth is hard enough. Then I’ll have to get back in dance shape. It just feels like too much.”

“So stop using my baby as an excuse. You want it, so we’ll make it happen. Don’t worry about how,” Kenyon said, sliding his hand inside mine.

There was no way I could fail with Kenyon and my family by my side. This baby was already surrounded by so much love.

Epilogue

THREE YEARS LATER. . .

Kenyon

Isat at the long, glass-topped table in the office. On a conference call, with my assistant reviewing the latest updates with the app developers.

"We’re almost there," one of the developers spoke into the camera. "The beta tests for the app are solid, but we need to streamline the matchmaking for the league events."

"That’s gotta be seamless. If it’s not, sponsors will walk. Throttle House depends on running like a well-oiled machine. Every driver and team must be able to get on this app and race without a single hitch."

This wasn’t just about racing anymore. It was now a legit business, and I couldn’t afford any slip-ups. The conference call wrapped up with the usual goodbyes. My mind was already racing ahead to the next steps. Pushing back my chair, I stood up, stretching the tension from my shoulders.

The polished office space reflected a life I never imagined for myself, but here I was, owning it. Cars and races were the heartbeat of my empire now, not the streets or what came with it.

I walked out of the conference room, the sound of my footsteps swallowed by the thick carpet as I made my way to my office. It was almost time to pick up Kyce from my Mom’s, but I had more emails to send. We needed to get more garages on board and solidify sponsor agreements.

“I’m impressed,” Kross said as I turned the corner.

“I don’t know why. I’ve always had better taste than you.”

“Aite, now you’re going too far.” Kross followed me down the hallway to my office.

I waited for the soft click behind me before asking, “What fake emergency brought you here today?”

“Maybe I’m just checking on my little brother,” Kross said, his tone playful, but his eyes told a different story. “I’m proud of you, Keyes.”

I walked over to the window, hands in my pockets, and glanced at the parking lot below, filled with rows of sleek cars. As much as I wanted to take credit, this was all Zara’s brainchild.

Throttle House was a garage and car club where members could come to customize their rides, trade parts, and talk shop. We also organized sanctioned events with sponsorships, contracts, and a league of car clubs nationwide. Throttle House was the headquarters, of a racing circuit that blended the adrenaline of street racing with the professionalism of motorsports.

We had app developers creating platforms for fans, teams building their own brands, and sponsors lining up for a piece of the action. What started as a way to make money off my love for cars was on its way to being a full-blown empire.

“No way you came down here just to say that, so what do you want?”

Kross chuckled, the sound low and familiar. “I need you to talk to Zara for me.”

It still took some getting used to hearing other people call her Zara, not just me.

“About what?”

“I need some help at the club,” My brows dipped in a way that made Kross’s mouth form a straight line. “Not that kind of help nigga.”

“Then what the hell do you need her help for, and why are you asking me?”

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