Chapter 2
Islah
It was 4:45 a.m. when Gio’s alarm woke me up. I blinked a couple of times, lying there thinking he would stop it, but he didn’t move.
I let out a sigh, sat up, and reached over him for his phone, turning it off, when I felt a hand on my ass.
“Damn, bae, this how you go through a nigga phone?” he joked.
I laughed.
“No, bae, your alarm was going off, I stopped it,” I said as I sat back down.
Gio leaned over and gave me a kiss that left a smile on my face as he pulled away and reached for his phone.
“Damn, I didn’t hear that bitch go off. I was tired as hell.”
I nodded. “As you should be, but it’s time to get up.”
I got out of bed, wrapped my robe around me, and turned on the lamp on my nightstand while he sat in the bed watching me walk out of the room with a look on his face.
“You actin’ like a nigga not his own boss.”
I stopped walking and folded my arms across my chest looking at him.
“I know you are your own boss, my luv. We have real plans that need to be made, and if that means you need to feed the streets day and night, so be it.”
Gio sighed as he got out of bed. His dick was hard as he adjusted his briefs and walked up to me with a smirk on his face, wrapping me up in his arms.
“You know I’ma give you the world, right?” he asked.
I nodded. “I don’t need the world, baby. I need a house, a ring, maybe a child or two on the way.”
He laughed slightly. “I told you I got you.”
“I believe you,” I responded. “And I’ma help you get there.”
He shook his head and walked out to the bathroom. I smiled to myself, made the bed, and laid out my man’s clothes while I hummed “Little Things” under my breath.
I loved me some Gio and the way he took care of me. I didn’t work, didn’t worry about bills, and dates and trips around the city were nice, but it never went past that. Nothing outta town or overseas, that nigga never wanted to leave Cali—and that’s not me complaining, I just wanted more, for both of us.
But I was still taken care of, so I did the same for him.
After his clothes, jewelry, and Glock were laid out, I moved to the kitchen and made him breakfast, nothing much—waffles, bacon, eggs, toast, a blunt rolled up, and orange juice. By the time I was putting it on the table, he was walking around the corner with a smile on his face.
He walked over to the table, looked at the food, picked up the blunt, and lit it.
“Damn, that looks good, baby.”
“I know, come on, let’s eat,” I said, smiling back at him.
He pulled my chair out, then we sat down, smoked, talked out the things I wanted, and ate. Gio was understanding, knowing we should have made some changes in our relationship.
“Listen, boo, I’ma be meeting with this new plug, an OG in the streets. No nigga around South LA can get work from him?—”
“Then why is he working with you?” I asked, cutting him off.
“Remember when I beat that nigga ass a few weeks ago for starting shit on my block?”
