11. Daylin
ELEVEN
daylin
THE PARTY . . .
Tonight, Rakim was taking me to a party for his father. He’d bought me a simple dress and some heels that I’d picked out online. He paid for them as a pickup order from Saks and then retrieved them for me.
In effort to bother his ass, I picked a fifteen-hundred-dollar dress and two-thousand-dollar shoes, but he didn’t bat an eyelash after I added it to the cart, simply taking the laptop from me, putting in his card information, then checking out.
I didn’t even think he paid attention to the total.
So, I took an L on upsetting him in that department.
I heard a knock on the door as I stepped out of the shower, wrapping the warm, plush sheet towel around my body.
“Just a minute!” I shouted even though the door was locked. The bathroom had no windows, and now I knew that was purposeful. I couldn’t escape for shit and therefore no longer wasted brain power trying to come up with ways to get away.
“Your stuff.” Rakim held up the bag from Saks, tied with a pretty satin bow and then the one from Sephora that I would need for makeup.
“Thanks.” I snatched it and slammed the door in his face, smirking when I heard him grunt lowly in frustration at my attitude.
For as long as I was kidnapped, I wasn’t going to make it easy on his ass unless I saw he was angry or wielding a weapon, then I would shut the hell up.
For the next hour, I got myself together moisturizing, dressing, and spritzing on some perfume I’d gotten from Sephora. Once I had on my dress, all that was left was my hair and shoes, but the latter could wait until I was leaving.
Deciding to keep it simple since I wasn’t trying to impress anyone at his dad’s party, I did my Dutch braids over but left out a few tendrils at the front of my head and back to give it some sort of flair. Twenty minutes later, and I was ready to go, meeting Rakim at the door of the bedroom.
“This is actually a nice house.” I took in the home as he escorted me up the stairs to the main floor and through it.
I hadn’t ever seen it, because by the time I came to, I was already in the room I’d been held in.
“Thank you.” He opened the passenger door to his truck for me which was unexpected.
I paused for a beat, caught off guard, but took his hand to climb up into the black-on-black Denali.
It smelled like his cologne mixed with whatever air freshener he had in here, and the seats felt like butter against my skin.
“So can I have a drink tonight, or is that off the menu, kidnapper?” I buckled up as he started the car once inside.
“You can have a few, but try not to get sloppy. You seem like you’ll start fucking talking even more than you already do after too many drinks.” He pulled out of the long ass gravel driveway into the street.
Giggling, I said, “I never get sloppy, but you’re probably right.”
“Few rules though, Daylin.” He ran a hand down his face, keeping his eyes on the road. “Act normal. Don’t walk in there looking all wide-eyed and like you scoping the scene for an escape.”
“What if someone asks who I am?”
“They won’t. It’ll be plenty of women in attendance, and they’ll assume you’re one of my father’s flings or one of the many women my brothers invited.”
I nodded, taking it in.
“They wouldn’t assume I was invited by you?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “That’s not really some shit I would do.” He glanced my way, and for some reason, we exchanged subtle smiles.
“I’m gonna start thinking you’re asexual, Rakim,” I jested, and he laughed out loud which was a pleasant surprise.
“Does that mean I love pussy but it don’t run me? If so, then I’m cool with that title.”
“No, it means you don’t like anything. You live a sexless life pretty much.”
“Well then, nah, that’s not me. At all.” He stroked his healthy beard.
“I’ve learned to be disciplined, though, at first because I had to stay focused on boxing, and then again when I was in prison—the latter I had no choice but to abstain.
So I don’t sit up fiending for the shit.
Hopefully that gives you some clarity on my sexual identity. ”
When he smiled, I returned the gesture, unable to deny it.
“I like that,” I admitted. Nothing was sexier than a man who didn’t act like a starved dog anytime women or vaginas were in the room.
“Okay.” He laughed some, speaking sarcastically.
“Anyway.” I smacked my lips playfully. “So, are you kind of on edge thinking I may make my great escape at this party?”
“No, but if you do, you won’t make it far. And if you can run in them high ass heels you got on, you deserve the freedom.”
I chuckled, watching his lips tug up in the corner some as he kept his eyes on the freeway traffic before us.
His side profile rivaled his frontal making him 100 percent fine as fuck.
When you were sexy from the front and the side, you were undeniably fine, and that was Rakim.
His dark skin, that healthy beard, the lips, nose, his build, low-cut fade, and even that scar on his face all added to his appeal.
The name Helen was scribed on his neck in ink.
We made it to the party about forty-five minutes later, and Rakim helped me from his truck.
I refused to look at him as he did so, because I was tired of smiling so much for no reason.
I had a crush on him, sadly, and I couldn’t even blame Stockholm syndrome, because it wasn’t that.
This was pure, unadulterated attraction.
“ErrTime” by Cardi B was playing in the background as Rakim and I entered the mansion party.
“Oh . . . shit!” Josias approached, bucking his eyes at his older brother.
“Be chill,” Rakim told him, slapping hands with his brother while Josias kept his eyes pinned on me.
“Welcome.” He spoke in an uppity accent while reaching to shake my hand, making me laugh.
“Thanks, Josias.”
Zaire greeted us both, and as he embraced me, I felt eyes on me.
When I saw it was Ayan, not even caring that his woman was on his arm—if that was even her—I promptly looked away.
I did, however, overhear her comment on his wandering eye but couldn’t make out what he’d said in return.
His tone told me he’d admonished her for speaking up, though I couldn’t detect his actual words.
“Are we gonna wish your dad happy birthday?” I questioned.
“No,” Rakim answered, and when I noticed his father, Nate, I was thankful.
He was a large man, looking almost seven feet tall and not the least bit skinny.
When he looked over at me standing beside his son, I was frozen with fright.
He gave me a bad vibe like his son Ayan.
“Enjoy the party but stay close.” Rakim let my arm go, and I wanted to grab onto him but decided against it.
I knew people would have more questions if I was hanging off Rakim the whole night.
I watched him for a minute, then ventured to the buffet table to grab a plate before taking a seat at one of the empty tables.
I’d contemplated possibly escaping but quickly changed my mind.
These heels were no joke, and if Rakim caught me, I knew there would be hell to pay.
Speaking of him, I kept noticing Rakim watching me at different angles of the room. He seemed to always know where I was, even if engrossed in conversation. His hawking didn’t feel possessive in a captor way; it felt like more of a protection tactic. His eyes on me constantly made me relax some.
As I bit into my garlic parmesan wing that tasted fucking amazing, a woman with a strong floral perfume sat down with her own plate.
“Them wings are bomb, huh?” She chuckled, tossing her long cornrows behind her back. She was pretty with chocolate skin, full lips, and a face full of skillfully applied makeup.
“They are.” I smiled.
“I’m Tarin, Josias’ baby mama and girlfriend.”
“Oh.” I reacted before I could think about it, but thankfully, she didn’t register it. The few times I’d encountered Josias, he hadn’t acted like he had a girlfriend. “I’m Daylin. Nice to meet you. How long have you been with Josias?”
I wanted to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they only recently rekindled, which would explain why the nigga acted so damn single during the times I’d seen him.
“Girl! Years! We have two kids together.” She bit into her chicken wing, so I did the same. “I’m just happy his other baby mama didn’t get invited.” She rolled her eyes. “Jojo is all about family and be trying to include her whack ass in everything.”
“Oh, okay. How many kids does he have?” I inquired.
“Just three, but I’m the first,” she stated proudly for some reason.
“I see.” I ate some more of my food. “You and his other baby mama must not get along.”
I hated when women allowed men to pit them against one another, but it was an issue as old as time.
“Nope, because Kasia knew that was my man, and yet she still slept with him and got pregnant like the whore she is.”
If that were true, I understood her disdain for whomever Kasia was, but she should’ve had that same smoke for Josias.
Unless Kasia stole his sperm, somehow, but not only had Tarin confirmed that they actually had sex, but I’d seen Josias in the wild, and he wasn’t exactly demure nor chaste.
The nigga had invited Morgin to a party then had a whole nother woman in his face. Neither of those ladies was Tarin.
“I see.” I kept it cute.
I didn’t know Tarin well enough to be expounding on my thoughts and beliefs. Nor did I know the actual situation. Not to mention, I didn’t give a fuck. I planned to never see this damn family again once released, . . . if released.
“So which Godfrey are you fucking?” She propped her elbow up onto the table, looking into my eyes skeptically. “It’s not Jojo, right?”
“Um, no, it’s actually none of them. I’m a friend of a friend you could say.” I shrugged, hoping she didn’t get any more suspicious than she appeared to be.
Same time, I didn’t think she cared about anything other than Josias. Long as I wasn’t fucking him, she didn’t give a damn who I was or how I came to be.