Kade #2
“I’m still the CEO and will be around. Ain’t no way in hell I’m disappearing completely. But I’m scaling back enough to focus on what actually matters now.” My hand slid over Ysis’s stomach unconsciously.
“My family, my wife, and my children.”Ysis shyly looked down for a second, smoothing her hand over mine as cameras absolutely ate the moment up.
“Speaking of your wife,” the interviewer turned toward her. “There’s been a lot of speculation online about your writing career. Rumors are saying you’re preparing your debut novel. Is that true?”
“Maybe.” Ysis rubbed her belly, leaning into my side.
“Translation,” I interrupted dryly. “Yes.”
“You act like you my publicist.” She cut her eyes at me.
“I am.”
“No you not.”
“I finance the dream, so that make me executive management.”The interviewer burst out laughing as Ysis shook her head.
“Please, ignore him.”
“That’s impossible but you can try.”
“So when can readers expect the first release?” The interviewer smiled. Ysis opened her mouth, but I reached for her hand first, pressing my lips against her wedding ring.
“Stay tune, it’s dropping soon.” I answered for her. Truthfully, I couldn’t wait for the world to see what she carried inside that beautiful-ass mind of hers. Not just my children, but her words too. Because my wife was talented in ways people still hadn’t fully grasped yet.
I looked over at her then, really looked at her, as the cameras kept rolling and everybody else in the room faded into background noise.
She was six months pregnant, glowing and beyond perfect.
My wife was the finest woman I’d ever laid eyes on, and I’d throw acid on any nigga who dared say different.
Why the fuck else did she think I tweaked out every time men looked at her?
I understood that for most people, it was to be taken as a compliment.
They saw a beautiful woman and said what they were thinking.
Hell, she was breathtaking. I wasn’t disputing that.
I was arguing with the fact that every nigga with functioning eyesight seemed determined to remind me of it.
So, if a nigga wanted to keep that sight, he better play Stevie Wonder when it came to mine.
That damn haircut wasn’t helping the situation either.
Ysis had cut her hair into this soft black bob that framed her face so perfect it pissed me off spiritually.
Then pregnancy widened her hips enough to have me acting like a horny teenager trapped inside a billionaire’s body.
The twins probably hated my ass already, because I could not keep my damn hands off her.
Every chance I got, I was touching her. Kissing her. Rubbing her stomach. Massaging her feet. Dragging her into dark corners of the house just to inhale her skin like a fucking psychopath. Marriage made my obsession legal, and that was a problem for everybody involved.
I was more in love than I’d ever been in my entire life.
So much so, I said fuck waiting a year like we originally planned and gave Ysis and her girls thirty days from the night I proposed to plan the wedding of her dreams. I ain’t even want to wait that long.
If it was up to me, I would’ve married her the same night I dropped to one knee.
But weddings like ours took time. Money had to talk while bullshit walked.
So Ysis and Nia locked in and built one of the most beautiful experiences Memphis had ever seen in thirty damn days flat, and damn if it still wasn’t the best day of my life.
Watching her walk toward me in that dress?
I damn near blacked out. Everybody kept asking if I was nervous.
Nervous? Man I was ready to fight every man in attendance because they had functioning eyeballs.
That woman was unreal, and now she was carrying my legacy.
My bloodline.
My future.
For the first time in my life, forever didn’t sound like a threat, it sounded like her.
It was three nights before my bachelor party and we’d been searching high and low for Yayo.
My nigga had been a ballatishan on a mission, moving around Memphis like a man carrying the weight of too many truths on his back, refusing to put any of them down long enough to breathe.
Ever since finding out Marius was all of our father and Yuki was apparently a certified Olympic-level freak who managed to get herself pregnant twice by two different men, that nigga had been doing everything in his power not to think about it. Which honestly, I understood.
The revelations surrounding our family had turned everybody’s mental stability into scattered puzzle pieces.
Marius and Yuki disappearing into hiding together afterward only added fuel to the psychological dumpster fire already burning through the Myles bloodline.
Neither one of them had showed their faces publicly since.
They’d vanished like ghosts after detonating bombs in everybody else’s lives and leaving us behind to clean the shit up.
Yayo handled pain the same way I used to.
Burying it under money, distractions, women, violence, and pretending feelings were optional.
Ever since Marius dropped the bombshell that Yayo and I were born only a month apart, a nigga couldn’t look at birthdays the same.
Finding out we were practically twins had done something to me.
Yayo, on the other hand, wanted no parts of acknowledging the day.
Between the truth about our family and everything that came with it, he would’ve rather acted like his birthday didn’t exist. Too bad for him.
If he thought I was about to let that shit slide during my bachelor weekend, he clearly didn’t know me as well as he thought.
Not one to usually celebrate his birthday, he spent the entire week threatening everybody around him not to “do no extra shit” while acting miserable enough to concern the entire damn city.
But unfortunately for him, he had never encountered the combined ignorance of me and Cassian working together with free time and bad intentions.
We wasn’t trying to hear none of that shit.
So me, Cass, Marcus, and Cazmir dragged his brooding ass to Miami and proceeded to fuck the city up the only way rich niggas with unresolved trauma knew how.
Naturally, our women threw fits when they found out they weren’t invited.
Especially Ysis. My wife acted like I declared war on pregnant women worldwide when I told her she was staying home.
She stood in our closet six months pregnant with her hands on her hips talking about ‘equal rights’ as I packed my bag, ignoring every word coming out her mouth.
“Ain’t nobody flying cross the country pregnant with twins to turn up in Miami.” I told her calmly.
“Women literally travel pregnant every day.”
“Cool. They not marrying to me though.” That argument lasted three hours, two attitude adjustments, one threatened silent treatment, and ended with me kissing her forehead as she glared at me from our bed looking fine enough to ruin my concentration for the rest of the week.
A nigga rarely took breaks or did anything for himself, so I felt justified telling my pregnant wife to keep her fine ass at home while I disappeared with the fellas for seventy-two hours before the wedding.
At least...that was the original plan. The first night in Miami turned into pure mayhem.
We touched down, hit Ocean Drive, rented out half the damn city, and didn’t make it back to the house until six the next morning smelling like liquor, smoke, cologne, and terrible decisions.
Cassian lost three Rolexes gambling against some retired Dominican baseball player.
Marcus disappeared with two influencers and came back wearing somebody else sunglasses.
Cazmir, surprisingly, had the most sense out all of us and spent half the night making sure nobody got arrested.
That nigga Yayo stood in the middle of LIV with two bottles in his hands screaming lyrics into the crowd as women climbed all over him like he was the last man left on earth.
For a few hours he actually looked happy, which made all this worth it.
We slept most of the following day away before eventually dragging ourselves back to life around sunset.
Everybody recuperated, showered, got fresh, hit the streets for food, drinks, shopping, and enough designer bags to financially traumatize a small country before heading to the strip club later that night.
Niggas was having the time of they life.
The section looked like a federal investigation waiting to happen.
Money everywhere. Bottles lined up across the tables.
Music vibrating through the walls hard enough to shake common sense loose from everybody inside the building.
Pussy was being thrown at us left and right.
Then suddenly, everything in me froze because across the club, sitting in another VIP section directly facing ours, was my pregnant wife looking finer than a motherfucker alongside Kayla and the rest of the Wolfpack, making it rain in that bitch like it was the damn bachelorette party from hell.
I blinked slow. Cassian blinked slower. Marcus nearly inhaled his cigar wrong. And Yayo lowered his champagne bottle with the seriousness of somebody spotting an active threat.
“What...the fuck...” Marcus muttered.
Ysis looked me dead in my eyes, rubbing all over some thick-ass stripper dancing in front of their section, and flashed her million-dollar smile.
I tossed my brothers a look, making sure everybody else was catching what I was catching.
Honestly, I couldn’t decide if I should’ve been angry or turned on. Probably both.
“She really flew her pregnant ass to Miami just to irritate you.” Cassian wheezed beside me.
“That’s love.” Marcus laughed.
“That’s terrorism.” I corrected them both.