Page 129 of Own It

“Can never be too sure. Had to be certain I was kidnapping my wife.” He winked, and foolishly, I blushed.

* * *

MEET THE CONRADS . . .

Tonight, Rakim would be meeting my parents for the first time, and I was nervous. It wasn’t because I thought they wouldn’t like him, but I hated that we would be keeping the full truth from them. Same time, I felt like if my father liked Rakim before he knew the truth, it may be easier to forgive him. But if he found out upon first meeting, my dad wouldn’t even give it a chance.

It would just be the four of us tonight, and I was happy about it. Cairo Jr. was chill, but sometimes Serene did too much, especially if she ingested too much wine. I didn’t care what the bitch said; she loved getting away from her husband and kids, which was why she could take down a whole bottle of wine when she came over my parents’ home.

“Hi. Welcome.” My mother answered the door, beaming up at Rakim.

“Hi, Mom.” I hugged her, walking inside. “This is Rakim, my new boyfriend.”

“How you doing?” He gave her his fine nigga smirk.

For most people, having a new man so soon and right after being freed from captivity would be strange and cause questions to arise. But my family was so elated that I was no longer with Shaun, they didn’t give a fuck about the details, and it worked in my favor for the moment.

“Great. Nice to meet you.” She cheesed widely before embracing him and taking the flowers plus champagne he’d brought. “Ooh, the good stuff too.”

“Had to,” he replied.

“Cairo is already in the dining room, so just follow me.” My mom led the way as I slipped my hand into Rakim’s so we could trail her.

“Hi, Daddy.” I greeted him, as he ascended smiling at the sight of Rakim and me. “This is Rakim.”

My father hugged and kissed me, then focused his attention on my man.

“Nice to meet you, young man.” He shook Rakim’s hand. “Firm handshake. Good start.” My dad gestured for us to sit before pulling out my mom’s chair.

Rakim did the same for me, and moments later, we were all seated at the table, a feast in the middle. My mother had always been an amazing cook, even though we had plenty of chef prepared meals coming up. Today was her doing, however, and I was excited to dig into the honey fried pork chops—her specialty.

We piled our plates in comfortable silence, and then my father prayed over the table.

“Rakim, what is it that you do? My baby girl here didn’t want to tell us too much.” My dad got right to the interrogation.

“I run a boxing gym and own Godfrey Baking Co.,” he answered.

“Wait a minute . . . I think we have some of that bread in the kitchen. Don’t we, Clarissa?” My father turned to my mom, looking like a fan.

“Dad, please.” I huffed, giving Rakim a look who only smirked.

He hopped up and jogged out before returning with a loaf and a wide grin, cradling the bread as if it were his newborn child.

“Told you. We love it.” He sat down.

“Appreciate the support.” Rakim chuckled at my mortification as did my mom.

“Of course.” My father ate a chunk of his pork chop. “So you own two businesses. That’s amazing. And how old are you?”

“I’m thirty-three.” Rakim nodded.

“Very good.” My mama bobbed her head, pleased.

“What made you want to open a bread company?” She quizzed him.

“My mother was allergic to gluten, and coming up, she always complained about how poorly made the gluten free breads were and how disgusting they tasted. So the bakery is like an ode to her. I feel like she’s a big part of why it’s so successful,” Rakim explained.

“That is so sweet.” My mother simpered, patting his hand. “How did you all meet? That’s truly what I’ve been wondering because Daylin just got⁠—”