Page 37 of A King’s Obsession

“Why are you interviewing me?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

“I ain’t interviewing you.” I paused, giving her a moment before continuing. “We been fucking with each other damn near a year, Ash.”

That quieted her. She stopped reaching for her food and gave me her full attention.

“I ain’t getting younger. Taking care of you, flying you out, kicking it—all that was cool when we started. But I invested more than money in you. I invested my time, and I don’t give everybody that shit.”

Her expression softened as she listened, and I glanced toward the stairs, thinking about the clothes, shoes, and everything else she already had upstairs.

“Honestly, I don’t even understand why the fuck I’m paying for a house and an apartment,” I admitted, looking back at her.

Her eyebrows pulled together, and she tilted her head slightly, waiting for me to explain what I meant.

“Move in with me.”

Ashlynn stared at me, her lips parting like she had something to say but couldn't quite get it out.

I kept going before she could turn it into something it wasn’t. “Half your shit already here. You sleep here more than your own place anyway. I’m paying for both places just for you to keep coming back over here.”

“This your romantic way of asking me to live with you?” she asked, a small smile finally breaking through her surprise.

“I ain’t finished,” I told her, holding her gaze.

That shut her up.

“I’m trying to settle down, Ash. I ain’t asking you to move in so we can keep doing the same shit with a different address. I’m talking about seeing where this goes for real. Marriage. Family. All that.”

For once, Ashlynn didn’t have shit to say. She sat there looking at me, her expression shifting as she took in what I'd just told her.

Then her eyes narrowed.

“But you Muslim.”

I already knew where she was going. “And?”

“And I ain’t sharing my motherfucking man with no bitch, so we not doing that multiple-wife shit,” she declared, folding her arms across her chest.

“Watch how you say that. Ain’t nothing wrong with my religion.” My tone grew serious because that was one thing I wasn't about to play with.

Her face softened immediately. “You know I respect your faith. I’m talking about the multiple-wife part. That ain’t for me.”

I nodded slowly, studying her. “So if I wanted more than one wife?”

“Then may Allah bless you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet.” She reached for her juice, completely unbothered by the possibility of offending me. “But you better go find you another wife number one, because this bitch right here does not share.”

I stared at her for a moment before a laugh broke out of me. Leave it to Ashlynn to turn a serious conversation about our future into some shit that had me laughing in my own kitchen.

Truth was, I wasn’t nearly as bothered by her answer as I probably should’ve been.

I’d seriously considered plural marriage before. But thinking about something and actually wanting to live it were two different things.

And looking at Ashlynn sitting in my kitchen wearing my shirt, eating my food, with half her belongings already upstairs, I wasn’t thinking about adding another woman to the equation.

Hell, I wasn’t too fond of having to take care of a busload full of women no fucking way.

Ashlynn was enough headache by herself. Loud, spoiled, stubborn, and nosy as hell.

And apparently, I wanted to marry her ass. And I was real soon.