Page 27 of Rich Forever: Zo & Remy

She froze.

“You thought I’d give a fuck about some clerical error?” I scoffed, stepping closer. “You really think that nigga has any claim to you? After all these years? Remy, you gotta know better than to think that I would care about that.”

Her breathing hitched, but I wasn’t done.

“You over here flinching, can’t sleep, can’t look at me… because your mind told you you’re not really mine? Is that it? You thought some old-ass marriage license was going to undo the years we put in?” I was dead ass confused. My voice had a sharp tone now, letting her know I wanted an answer.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to tell you. I thought you would think that I was lying to you. Or tricking you.”

I laughed, but it was humorless. “Baby. If I ever thought you were playing with me, we wouldn’t be here. There’d be police reports, missing persons records, and a war started.”

She blinked at me.

I pointed at her chest and then grabbed her chin. “You been mine. Since the day you stood your thick ass in that window at your pops' house staring at me. Let me make this clear to you, Mrs.Richardson. Karlos ain’t your husband, he’s never been. He’s a nigga with a paperwork problem. I’m the one who wakes up to you. The nigga who built this house with you. You gave birth to my children. Y’all carry my last name.”

“That’s another thing that scared me. I finally told Jax earlier, and he said the Mafia could make the kids Weston heirs.” Her eyes fell to the ground.

This time, it was me with wide eyes.

“MY kids? Remy, don’t piss me off. You think any muhfucka would be able to open their mouth to tell me something about MY kids?”

This time I laughed for real. I was starting to feel like I must’ve been too soft on Rem, and I had to shake shit up for the hell of it. The fact that she thought twice about this was starting to concern me. Fuck the Mafia. She knew that when it came to them, a problem was always no problem.

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

“Ma, don’t youeverin your damn life, walk around this house scared to tell me some shit that doesn’t even matter.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. But I can tell that she was relieved by my reaction.

“You should be. Not about the situation either. But for thinking for one second you belong to somebody else.” I finally closed the space between us. She went to wipe her face, but I grabbed her wrists gently but firmly, lowering them.

“Now, tomorrow, you gone tell me exactly who the fuck told you about this, how they found out, and why you didn’t come to me first.”

Her breath was caught as she saw me scanning the length of her body. My hands fell at her waist.

“But right now, I’m about to show you why no other nigga but me could ever touch you. And why you, for damn sure ain’t nobody’s wife but mine. Don’t run from me again. I don’t do that shit with you.”

I followed her movement with my eyes, slow as hell, on purpose.

“Okayyy.” She said, emphasizing the word. I chuckled.

“That’s how you talk to your second husband?”

“Baby! Stop.”

“Stop what?” I asked her, letting my voice fall to the calm tone that she normally loved or hated, depending on the moment.

“Stop joking about that,” she sighed. “I’m not… just don’t say that.”

I tilted my head, just watching her squirm.

“That’s funny, Shorty. You didn’t care enough to tell me for eight days, but the minute I say it out loud, you're ready to cry about it.”

“Because I don’t want anyone but you,” she admitted.

I let the smirk fade and stepped in again. I nestled my face into her neck, licking, biting, and sucking on it.

“Say it again,” I murmured between kisses.