Page 8 of Mia

“You get caught, I ain’t in this shit.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

I walked past him and took the stairs as quietly as I could. As I neared her door, my heart started racing. I hadn’t been close to her in so long that a nigga was nervous as hell. Slowly, I twisted the knob and pushed the door open before stepping inside. Mia laid in bed on her side, snoring softly. The covers were off and I could see her small baby bump. I walked over and stood next to the bed.

Stooping down, I admired her features. Her smooth, honey colored skin held a slight glow to it. Those full, plump lips were slightly parted. I reached out to touch my baby, but decided against it because I didn’t want to wake her up.

My defiant little beauty, I thought, shaking my head.

Most niggas in my position would say Mia wasn’t worth the headache she brought. I wasn’t most niggas. The things that made this woman difficult were some of the same things I loved about her. She drove me fucking crazy and drove… me… fucking… crazy, if that makes sense. Easy was overrated. I didn’t want that. I didn’t mind fighting for my love.

Standing to my feet, I grabbed her phone from the dresser, walked over to the chair shielded by darkness, and took a seat. For an hour, I sat there watching her sleep after I cloned her phone. Watching her hand subconsciously clutch her belly. Watching as she groaned and stirred slightly, praying she didn’t wake up. My eyes never left her until I stood again to leave the room. After ensuring the hallway was clear, I slipped out, headed downstairs, and out of the house.

While I wasn’t ready to leave, she’d be seeing me real soon.

Present Day

My wife.

My wife.

My muthafucking wife.

She was looking so damn good tonight, but that was nothing new. Mia always looked good. That honey skin was always flawless. She had these light eyes that were not only deadly but captivating. I towered over her five-foot-five frame, and one of my favorite things was looking down at her while she was on her knees in front of me with my dick between those sexy ass lips.

My baby was more on the slim- thick side. Always had been. She had the right amount of curves for my hands, though. That ass and those titties more than filled my palms. She was out here looking like this, glowing and radiant and shit.

She wanted me to kill her.

I hadn’t laid eyes on her in three goddamn months before I came here, and I had something for her ass. How the fuck did she think it was cool to fly her ass to another country… another fucking continent with my fucking baby and not answer the phone for me?

I didn’t know what she was doing over here with this mission. Was she taking care of herself? Had she seen a doctor? Was she taking her vitamins and drinking enough water? Was she getting enough sleep?

So many thoughts plagued my head at night.

I could have rolled up on her months ago, but I wanted her to come to her senses. I wanted to give her the chance to do the right thing before I showed my ass. Clearly, my wife was a little touched and didn’t know what type of nigga I was. It wasn’t that I was possessive because I wasn’t. But when I loved, I loved hard.

I’d had my share of bitches, but I’d never loved anybody the way I loved Mia James-Dillinger…. Mia DeLuca. When it came to her, a nigga wasn’t right in the head. Knowing she was out here without me was making me lose my damn mind, and that was never a good place to be in. It was the whole reason I was here now.

I sat on the balcony of my suite, smoking a fat blunt. I wasn’t worried about letting Mia in because I’d left a key for her to get in. The clock was ticking. She had about five minutes to get to this room. As I sat there smoking, I thought back to the night we got married. We’d randomly taken a trip to Vegas. Since she’d started splitting her time between her father and grandfather’s organization, she’d been busy as hell. After three back-to-back missions, we just needed a little weekend getaway. Of course, we were on good terms then. Wasn’t any beefing going on, just good vibes.

We were walking the strip, lit as fuck, when we stumbled upon this twenty-four-hour wedding chapel. We walked in there and about five other couples were waiting to get married by this fucking Elvis impersonator.

We copped a seat in the back, thinking we’re just gonna laugh at that shit. Then we started listening to the vows. These niggas were in the middle of this cheap ass chapel professing their love for each other. Shit touched my damn heart so much I found myself looking at Mia.

“The fuck you looking at me like that?” she asked, frowning.

Anytime I stared at her too long, she asked me that, like I couldn’t simply admire her.

“Let’s get married,” I said.

Her brows furrow. “Nigga, you said what?”

“You heard me. Let’s get married.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, Mia. We have our shit, but I love you and I wanna be with you.” I kissed her forehead. “I want to marry you. Have babies with you.” I kissed her nose. “Live this crazy ass life with you.” I kissed her lips, pulling a low moan from her. “You’re mine. Ain’t no other nigga gon’ have you and live in peace.”