Page 12 of Still Forever
I stopped walking and looked him in the eyes.
“I don’t give a fuck what they want. I’m not marrying anybody but Kennedy.” In his role, I knew Trouble had to enforce their orders, so I had to make that clear. I wasn’t trying to put him in a bad spot; it wasn’t about rebellion, it was the principle. If I were single, I would be fine.
No, me and KD weren’t good right now, and she probably hated a nigga, but she had my heart. I belonged to her. She already hated this lifestyle and complained that I didn’t have any time for her. I would never disrespect her by having her watch me marry another woman. She would never understand it as a business play, and that’s why I would die making sure she didn’t have to.
He nodded.
I knew I was walking on a fine line, and I had to be careful. The Mafia doesn’t spare anyone, and I couldn’t put my family in the middle of my shit because I was acting off emotion. I also had to think about KD, and she would probably never understand it, but I didn’t want to risk her safety because of my ego. They already had eyes on her, probably had been watching her for years to make sure she wasn’t the weak link. But I had to find a way to get out of this arrangement before the deadline they set.
Judah chimed in. “Shit, I don’t want to. But I’m cool with it either way. I mean, I really don’t have anything to lose. Bitches love married men. What if they force your hand, G?”
“They won’t, I just have to give them a reason not to. They didn’t make me the negotiator for nothing.” I said. Not because I believed it, but because I was trying to motivate myself to take the smart way out. All I could see right now was red. I understood all the contracts that I had signed. The blood oaths that I took at the chapel about loyalty and honor. I even understood that in order to be good at giving orders, you haveto be good at taking them. But when it came to my girl, no one could force my hand on shit.
“What if you can’t find a way out of it?” Judah asked me the question that hadn’t even crossed my mind.
I didn’t answer him.
My phone chiming in my pocket took me away from the conversation. It was the cameras from the estate detecting movement. When I opened the app, I saw a moving truck backed up to the door and movers getting Kennedy’s things from the house.
On top of the news that the elites had just given me. I had to watch KD move out of our home. If I had never felt a pain in my chest before, that shit made me feel like I was having a heart attack. I called her phone three times, and it went straight to voicemail. Going back to the live feed, I noticed that she had her phone in her hand, but it wasn't ringing. She must have blocked me.
I threw the phone against the stone wall, shattering it on impact and causing Judah and Trouble to look at me in confusion and the soldiers to aim their weapons. It didn’t faze me at all.
“The fuck is wrong with you, G?” Judah questioned. I ignored him and kept walking toward the door that we had come in. I was a second away from snapping.
The final order from the elites stated that the relationship and communication ended today. By the time the jet landed back home, I wouldn’t be able to make contact with her. Couldn’t look her in the eyes and tell her that she had better put that shit back and stop playing with me. I couldn’t back her against the wall and tell her all the reasons why I loved her wild ass and kiss her until she forgot the reason why she was mad. I couldn’t touch her or explain the reason for my absence. But even worse, I couldn’t get the chance to make our argument right.
The only thing I could do was protect her in the war that I was prepared to start behind her. I would burn down every family in that room by myself before I let them tell me that Kennedy wasn’t going to be my wife.
I knew that KD would be mine since the day I laid eyes on her. We had invested time. She didn’t come from this life, but she was made for me. I was the underboss in the Mafia; I called hits, I did missions, and I moved weight. But to her, I was Jaxon. The nigga who she made dinner for and forced to watch movies and do face masks on. How the hell did they expect me to react?
She could leave me today. But forever…that was mine.
CHAPTER 5
Kenn
Taking off my shades and lowering the mirror of my car, I checked my appearance. My makeup was flawless, my lip combo was still fresh, and I had just gotten my hair done the day before. I opened the door and eased out of the leather seats of my Benz and walked toward the front door, heels clicking against the pavement.
“Good morning, welcome to Café Noir. Are you picking up, or dining in?” The waitress, a pretty woman with piercing green eyes asked as she grabbed menus.
“Dining in, I’m joining someone; they’re here already,” I said as I scanned the area.
“Great, find your party and I’ll be right over to take your order,” she said as I nodded and walked past her. I smiled as I approached the table.
“Hey,” I said before I took a seat.
My mother, Karen Davenport, looked up from the menu with the brightest smile as she stood to hug me.
“You look so beautiful, Kennedy. You definitely get your sense of style from me.” She said as she winked and held my arm out to look over my outfit of the day. A denim jumpsuit and nude pumps.
She might be right about that. No one could pull a look together like Karen. She reminded me so much of Fran from The Nanny. My mother was always draped in designer clothes from head to toe. Breakfast was no different. She sat in front of me, pearls resting on her neck, hair pressed to perfection, and her Birkin sat like a trophy next to her in its own seat. She was the picture of beauty and elegance.
“I might have picked up a thing or two,” I laughed as I picked up the menu, and silence fell over us as we scanned them.
That’s the only thing that I got from her, though. Because aside from that, we were polar opposites. My mother wasn’t just bougie, she wasbourgeois. Both of my parents came from wealth. My mother’s family owned a pharmaceutical company. And my father’s family were oil tycoons, and the business is now run by him. Karen lived her life like old money, and sometimes we clashed about the fact that I just wanted to be Kennedy. I was simple; sometimes I wanted to forget that I came from this lifestyle, rather than constantly reminding everyone else of it.
I’ll never forget that she enrolled me in ballet, classical ballroom, and tap dancing after I specifically told her that I wanted to be a majorette dancer. That one example explains the entire course of my life—my mother always wanting the best for me, but her idea of that never matched mine. I realize now that she was trying to mold me into her version of success, but all I wanted was to be myself.
