“I am being reasonable, and since he doesn’t seem interested in settling down anytime soon, I’ve chosen a few women I think would make a great partner for him,” Ma said.
“I’m right here, in case y’all forgot,” I responded, waving my hand. “Gramps, do you agree with this?”
“Not fully, but your mother put a lot of thought and effort into this, so it won’t hurt you to go on a few dates. You’ll have a few months to get to know them before you have to pick one,” he responded.
When the idea of marrying Malyah came to me, I wasn’t 100% sold on the idea because it was extreme. After listening to my family, the idea didn’t sound so extreme anymore. If I didn’t marry Malyah, I might be forced to marry someone my mother chose, and I definitely didn’t want to do the latter.
“Remember, you can’t fully take over the company until you’re married, and if you need a little more encouragement, I’ve added a little more to your trust fund,” Gramps added when I didn’t respond.
Money didn’t move me, because I wasn’t broke by any means, but I’d been looking forward to receiving my trust fund when I turned thirty-five because there were a few stocks that I’d been monitoring that I wanted to invest in, as well as a few other business endeavors.
“Let me think about it,” was all I said in response to all that had been dumped on me this morning.
Kenzo:
Are you busy?
Me:
Reading.
Kenzo:
I want to see you. Do you feel like coming out?
Me:
Sure. What do you have in mind?
Kenzo:
Come down. I’m parked out front.
Me:
I’m not presentable. I need about twenty minutes.
Kenzo:
I’ll wait. No rush.
I didn’t expectto communicate with Kenzo again until Sunday evening when I texted him a reminder to pick me up for work. When I received the first text from him, I was surprised, but even more surprised when he said he wanted to see me and asked to hang out.
I couldn’t believe the rich, handsome, and intelligent Kenzo Goode III wanted to see me, and I couldn’t imagine why. Now was one of those times when I wished I had a sister or best friend to tell me if I should read more into this, because the butterflies in my stomach had already written a novel.
Of course, I shouldn’t read into it. There was absolutely nothing I had to offer a man like Kenzo. Maybe when I had my shit together, I’d be more compatible, but even then, that beautiful man was out of my league.
After he left my room last night, I couldn’t get him off my mind. By the time I turned in for the night, I was hot and bothered, and my body wouldn’t allow me to rest until my pussy had some relief.
I found Kenzo’s Flikstagram and pleasured myself while looking at a picture of him shirtless, sporting a chest and neck full of tattoos, and wearing basketball shorts that gave me the perfect view of his dick print. I had to shake the thoughts of that image from my head before I saw him, or I’d probably embarrass myself.
It took me the twenty minutes I’d promised him to get ready, and as promised, he was parked in front of the hotel. He musthave seen me in his rearview mirror because before I made it to his car, he got out.
“Hey,” I greeted nervously.
“Hey. You look nice.”
His compliment caught me off guard, and I looked down at the clothing I’d chosen. I didn’t own a lot of fancy clothing, and because of my situation, many of my things were either in my car or still at my apartment. The black leggings, long-sleeved graphic T-shirt, and puffy vest were nothing special.
