Page 10 of Still Forever
Jaxon texted me no sooner than I closed the door on the black truck that was waiting outside the house.
My Person: Where you going with that lil ass skirt on KD? I know you’re mad, and I might be soft on you, Shorty, but don’t forget who your nigga is.
I rolled my eyes and blocked him from my phone. The soft kisses and expert level dick throwing had almost gotten me back where he wanted me: home, lonely, and waiting for him to do better.
There was no coincidence that the very next morning, he had to leave again. To me, that was a sign to stay focused and stand on how I felt. I love Jaxon, and I wish that none of these problems existed. But since they did, I was taking a break to focus on myself. I had to find out who Kennedy was outside of working, being “KD,” and spending all my time waiting for a man to come home and love me.
I know that it’s unreasonable to get into a relationship with someone in the Mafia and be upset when they have a demanding schedule. But it’s notunreasonable to not want to be left for two weeks to grieve alone. I’m not asking for much; I never once asked him to leave the Mafia. I just wanted him to move better, like heusedto when he was pursuing me.
Until that day came, even if it never did, I was going to be out with wind in my hair and sand in my toes.
Jaxon wasn’t going to let me take this break from him in peace, but it wasn’t his choice to make. He could either love me right or lose me. Being apart wasn’t the plan, but it was necessary. Sure, at first, it would hurt us both. But eventually, it would hurt a little less. And then one day, we’d wake up, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt at all. Then it would be as if it never had. But with Jaxon… nothing is ever that simple. With him, one thing always bleeds into the next.
CHAPTER 4
Jax
The line of black trucks slowed behind the estate that sat tucked away in the hills of northern Italy. A large iron gate, almost the same height as the stone building, wrapped around it, enclosing the vineyard. Even at this late hour, the air was thick with fog, making it hard to see the view below us. One by one, the fleet of trucks came to a stop, and their engines shut off. I swung open the door, my eyes sweeping the land just as Judah emerged from the truck behind me. His face was laced with confusion, just like mine.
“Is this shit abandoned?” He closed the space between us as we looked around. A single light outside the door was on, the only sign that the place might have life inside. For there to have been almost twenty families here, there was no noise, no other cars, and no people as far as I could see.
“You check Trouble’s location?” I asked.
“Yeah, it says he’s here.” I grabbed my gun from my hip as we opened the iron gate and walked to the first door that we saw. I knocked on it.
In less than a second, it swung open. Rifles aimed directly toward us, causing us to point our guns in their direction. One of the guards said something to the other in a different language.Then they were lowered, and we were given the okay to come in with a simple head nod.
“Y’all niggas need some hospitality around this muhfucka.” Judah sized one of the guards as he put his Glock back into his waistband. I elbowed him in the side as I put mine away and stepped past the men. The guard’s expression was stone. His eyes were dead, and his lips pressed thin. Either he didn’t know English, or he had been trained to ignore everything but orders.
From the outside, it looked like a large estate—brick walls, an arched door, like somebody’s family lived behind it. But once the gate opened, there was nothing domestic about it. There was no house there, no windows, and no lights. Just stone, silence, and a wide-open courtyard that felt more like a trap than a welcome.
The entire perimeter was surrounded by soldiers holding rifles, at least fifty or more. I had never been one to be nervous in any situation, but I knew if anything went wrong, we couldn’t shoot our way out of this if we tried. The soldier who escorted us led us to a building at the back of the vineyard; he knocked once and then entered.
The door opened, and I searched through the thick of the smoke before Trouble came into view. He was sitting there, at a long wooden table, surrounded by Mafia elites. His expression was relaxed, and he was smoking a cigar. Before I made it to the empty seat next to him, we passed many men, shaking hands and offering our respects.
“Y’all good?” He raised an eyebrow after seeing the expression on our faces.
“Nigga hell no. Don’t invite us to no bullshit like this again, OG. I thought they kidnapped your ass, and we were going to have to go out this bitch like Cleo,” Judah gritted before I could even respond, making us laugh in the middle of an elite summit.
“You good, Jax?” He directed his question to me as we shook hands.
“Yeah, I’m straight.” I nodded.
I saw Pierce, Storm’s father, in the far-right corner. He had a cigar in his mouth and was talking to one of the other guys about a bottle of wine before he looked our way. Then he came over and shook our hands.
“What’s up, old man?” I embraced him.
“Everything okay?” He asked as we parted. I nodded, and he walked around and went to Judah.
At the head of the long table was the Don of all Don’s. I offered my respect to him by bowing my head. Mateo was from Italy; though we all had Dons to oversee our region, he was the leader of every Mafia in the world. He was probably eighty years old, but his position was highly respected. Mateo didn’t look dangerous. He looked like the kind of man who should’ve been feeding pigeons in a plaza. But I also know that power doesn’t age. It just gets sharper. Every man on the compound protected him and would kill on his command. And I felt every year of his leadership in the weight of that room.
Though I had never been in his presence, being in the Mafia meant you knew the rules. Never approach Mateo without his permission or unless you are summoned. You didn’t speak to him unless you were spoken to, and when you did, you watched your tone.
I stood at the table and waited for him to give me the okay to take a seat, which he did with a nod. I scanned the room; I was surrounded by men at a table I had never sat at and waited for someone to tell me the reason for my visit.
The Capo next to Mateo spoke up, “Welcome to The Black Table, Jennings Mafia. We thought that it’d be important to include you in the final day of the summit.” He paused and blew smoke from his cigar before he ashed it.
Judah and I exchanged glances.
