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Luther exchanged a look with Gilberto. “We’ve had several conversations about potential matches…”
“With all due respect, I’m not here for the Table’s permission. The requirement was a wife. Nowhere in the bylaws does it say y’all needed to pick her.”
“The High Table has requirements for a reason. These marriages are supposed to consolidate power, build bridges—” Gilberto said.
“Excuse me if I don’t give a fuck about all that right now. My father got shot up by a nigga who’s clearly on some kind of revenge tour. Solomon coming for him means he’s coming for all of us. I don’t have the luxury of playing matchmaker with families who haven’t been doing shit but getting fat while I’m out here busting my ass. I need full authority over my family and I need it now.”
“And your solution is to marry a woman who’s not in our world?” Maxwell asked.
“To get married, period. Y’all gave me until the Conclave and now I have a fiancée. Now there can be a clean succession, and the Table gets its precious stability. Everybody wins except whoever had a daughter they were trying to pawn off.”
Gilberto narrowed his eyes. “The bylaws also say we don’t have to accept her.”
“Then don’t.” I shrugged. “And if Solomon comes for one of y’all next, feel free to handle the shit without me. I’m sure the three of you and my father who can barely make it to the bathroom on his own will figure something out.”
I let that hang as I watched them work out the math. These men had known me since I was born. They’d seen me come up and watched as my father handed me the keys to the kingdom bit by bit. I wasn’t bluffing.
Luther rubbed his jaw. “You’re putting us in a difficult spot.”
“Meanwhile, my business and father have taken hits. I need to move with the full weight of the Table behind me. Who she is, is irrelevant.”
“Orlando’s on board?” Luther asked.
“He understands I’m doing what’s best for the family.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“That’s the answer I got for you,” I replied.
Luther looked at me for a long time, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. He was the oldest and the one who co-founded the High Table with Pops. His word carried the most weight. “Will she be a problem?”
“No.”
Belle might try to make my life a living hell, but when it came down to it, all she had to do was look pretty. That should be easy enough for her to do.
“But if she does?”
“Then that’s my problem. Not yours.”
“Fine,” Luther said finally. “But I want to meet her before anything is formally announced.”
These old niggas loved to posture and gate-keep, but everybody in that room knew they needed me more than I needed them.
I stood. “I’ll make it happen.”
Marco reclined in the driver’s seat as he scrolled on his phone. He sat up when I got in the car.
“How’d it go?”
“It’ll be fine.”
He side-eyed me but didn’t say anything as he pulled off the private road.
“You’re really going through with this,” he said as soon as we were away from the house.
“Going through with what?”
“Don’t do that with me, Dez.” He glanced over. “You’re for real marrying her?”
