Page 14 of Mafia Kings & Wedding Rings
“Do me a favor, don’t give him that shit until I get there. I want to see him cuss yo’ ass out.” I chuckled, and Ivo shook his head.
We ended our chat, and I flossed and did my facial routine. The skincare products came from a company called Glo Works that I fucked with and represented on my page for a bag. The shit was legit, and when something worked, I didn’t have a problem promoting it on my platform. When I finished, I stepped into my room ready to get dressed. Since we were meeting at the office, I decided to step my business casual up today. Usually I was a jeans, t-shirt, and fly ass sneakers kind of nigga. Today called forsome more grown man shit. If I was going to be taken seriously and find a wife, I had to also look the part. The media was going to eat all this shit up.
I slipped into the charcoal-gray suit with a royal blue shirt and matching Ferragamo loafers. After sizing myself up in the mirror, I approved the look. Grabbing my cell, wallet, and keys to my Mercedes coupe, I started downstairs. Our housekeeper, Marcie, was busy dusting the many expensive statues on the accent tables arranged in the hall and foyer. I heard her humming a tune, not even realizing I was there at first.
“Good morning, Mr. Brick! You look nice and professional.”
“Bet, that’s the look I was going for,” I told her with a smile.
She was a heavy-set woman, with the warmest cinnamon-tinted eyes that crinkled up when she smiled. I deduced she was probably in her late 30s or early 40s, but Marcie had been around for the last five years cleaning and taking care of the house for us. My mama adored her so much that she let her live in the gatehouse on our property. On Sundays when we had family dinners, she was always welcome and usually brought some bomb ass dessert she made. I checked the time on my watch and saw that it was almost six thirty a.m. I knew I was cutting it close, so I went against grabbing some coffee and breakfast from the kitchen and marched right to the front door.
“Have a good day!” Marcie called after me.
“Thanks, Marcie!” The sun was barely cutting through the sky when I hopped into my car and started her up.
Thunder rumbled as the clouds shifted and became gray. Even more reason for me to haul ass so I didn’t get caught up in a damn monsoon. It was that time of year when it would rain for days, then stop, then start all over again. You had to take advantage of the sunshine when you could. I arrived in front of the Marek building with seven minutes to spare. Tossing mykeys to the valet, I let him park since I didn’t have time and stepped inside like I owned that bitch. Technically, I did.
“You said he knew what time—” Staten sounded irritated talking to Ivo when I strolled into the conference room.
“I’m here,” I grumbled, mouth full of an apple Danish I grabbed outside the door, along with a cup of coffee.
Both of my brothers appeared annoyed with me as they lined up on one side.
“A nigga was hungry. I still got five minutes.” I held up my icy Richard Mille in their faces with the Danish hanging out my mouth for dear life.
“Let’s get this shit over with. I got shit to do,” Staten grumbled, tugging on the tie around his neck.
“You all spiffed up. I see you,” I teased, reaching out and pretending to wipe some dirt off his shoulder. “Looking just like Pops, even got that grumpy ass expression down. Does this mean you are staying? I mean, you here.”
Staten swatted my hand away and continued to mug the shit out of me, which only made the shit funnier as Ivo cracked a small smile.
“Fuck you,” Staten growled.
“The hell wrong with you? You need some pussy?” I queried, only half joking.
The nigga was tight as hell and needed to relax.
“What I need is for you muhfuckas to stay the fuck out my business. Ma doing enough. Between her, the kids, and Cyra?—”
“What that bitch do?” Ivo questioned.
“I sent her ass back to Chicago. She was on bullshit and not doing what the fuck she was brought here to do, which is help take care of these fucking kids. Got the house a mess, they looking a mess, and she just want to sit around like she some damn pampered princess or some shit.” This was the most I’d heard my brother speak consecutively since arriving back home.
He usually had one or two-word responses and a lot of grunts and mumbling. He even acted like Justus when he was in a mood. A fucking grouch.
“So what Ma got to do with this, and what you doing with the kids?” Ivo pried.
“She had Sol submit a request to some freelance website. She’s looking for a nanny to help with the kids while I work. So yeah, I guess that means we sticking around.”
“Shit, sounds cool to me.” I shrugged. “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know this person for them to be around my kids like that,” Staten objected.
“Yeah, but the house is on the property, and you know damn well somebody gon’ be checking on them kids,” Ivo reasoned. “Marcella still rules with an iron fist and don’t shit move around there without her knowing.”
“And to be honest, they bad as fuck. The nanny the muhfucka you need to worry about.” I took another bite of my Danish.
Ivo chuckled, but Staten looked like he wanted to lay my ass out. His glower slowly morphed into a hint of simper he couldn’t contain, and the nigga miraculously laughed. Shit shocked the fuck out of me and Ivo. I hadn’t seen him drop the tension in his shoulders since he’d been here, so him being amused was unexpected.
