Page 14 of Certified Pressure 2

Ka’mari didn’t back down, though. She lifted her hand like she was brushing my words off and gave a fake little laugh.

“Girl, bye. Like I said, I know them. I know how they move, and when they come in here, you’re gonna see exactly why I’m tryna help.

They’ll spot who belongs and who don’t from the jump. ”

She said it with this arrogance that crawled all over my skin, like she was trying to mark her territory with words.

Toni looked between us, but I couldn’t care less.

It was taking everything in me not to slap the makeup right off Ka’mari’s face and remind her that she was an ex for a reason.

I clenched my jaw, swallowed my pride, and leaned in closer just so she could see the fire in my eyes.

“Don’t get it twisted,” I told her, my voice low but clear.

“You might’ve known them once, but you’re not important now. Remember that.”

Ka’mari rolled her eyes and waved me off like she was dismissing a child. “We’ll see who’s really important when the Mensah’s get here,” she muttered, sipping her wine with that same smugness that made me want to snatch the glass right out of her hand, and cluck her ass upside the head with it.

Before I could say something I would regret, the sound of footsteps pulled all of our attention.

Pressure appeared at the top of the stairs, and the argument evaporated like it had never existed.

He came down slow, dressed in a black silk shirt trimmed in gold, the fabric catching the light with every step.

His pants were tailored sharp, and heavy gold chains glistened across his chest. His skin was glowing against the dark fabric, and the cologne he wore drifted through the air before he even reached us.

It was the type of scent that demanded attention, deep and rich with a bite of spice that made my stomach flip.

For a moment, all three of us just stared.

No matter how many times I seen him, he still had the power to silence a room just by walking into it.

Toni tilted her head and grinned, Ka’mari licked her lips like she couldn’t help herself, and I kept my eyes locked on him, letting him know with my stare that I belonged right where I was.

Pressure’s gaze swept over us, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Y’all look good,” he said simply, his voice rough and smooth all at once. That one compliment felt like gold, and I stood a little taller just to hold onto it.

He walked past us to the door, his movements easy but commanding, and when he pulled it open, silence settled across the room.

First to step in was his mother, Abeni. The sight of her alone made me understand exactly why Pressure was who he was.

She was draped in a floor-length cream dress that shimmered softly under the light, her hair pinned into an elegant bun that showed off her diamond earrings.

Her skin glowed with a richness that no stylist could bottle, and her presence filled the entire foyer without her saying a word.

Pressure moved to her instantly, and the way he bowed his head slightly before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek told me everything about his relationship with her.

He wasn’t the arrogant king when it came to his mother—he was her son first. She cupped his face in her hands, stared into his eyes like he was still her little boy, and rubbed his cheeks with a tenderness that almost brought tears to mine.

The love between them wasn’t just respect, it was worship.

Watching Abeni, I realized she wasn’t just a mother. She was a queen in every sense, regal without needing a crown. She carried herself with the kind of grace that couldn’t be faked, and when her eyes shifted toward us, I felt my nerves spike again.

Then came Kojo Mensah. He stepped in behind her, and the air seemed to shift.

His frame was massive, his shoulders broad enough to block the doorway.

He wore all black from head to toe, the cut of his suit sharp enough to slice through bone.

His skin was deep, smooth chocolate, and his expression carried a weight that made me instantly understand why people feared and respected him in equal measure.

Intimidating wasn’t even the right word.

He didn’t have to speak for you to know he was a man who could crush you with a thought.

Seeing them up close had my knees damn near giving out, and I honestly don’t know how Pluto stood in these people’s presence and didn’t straight up faint.

Abeni moved first, gliding toward us with a smile that was soft but commanding.

She hugged Toni warmly, then leaned in to greet Ka’mari, who nearly melted into her arms like she had been waiting for this moment all day.

When Abeni finally came to me, she wrapped me in the same gentle embrace, and I swear my knees almost buckled.

Her perfume was delicate but rich, and the warmth of her arms around me felt like both a comfort and a test.

Kojo didn’t hug us. He just gave each of us a nod, one by one, and that was enough to make the room feel smaller. His silence spoke volumes, and the weight of his eyes on me made my chest tighten.

Pressure clapped his hands together, smiling at all of us like he had just set the stage for something bigger than we could imagine. “Lunch time,” he said, simple as that, but the way he said it let me know this was no casual meal.

As I followed behind them toward the dining room, reality crashed into me harder than it ever had.

This wasn’t just about me and Pressure anymore.

If he chose me, I wasn’t just marrying him.

I was marrying into power, into wealth and into a family that had the world at their fingertips.

And as much as I wanted it, the question hit me hard.

Was I even ready for everything that came with it?

Sitting at the table with the Mensah’s felt like going to lunch with the damn Obama’s.

To say I was nervous as hell would be an understatement.

The table was long and polished so smooth I could see my reflection in it, set with crystal glasses and gold-plated utensils.

Platters of food lined the center—grilled salmon glazed with honey, roasted chicken seasoned with herbs that smelled like heaven, bowls of saffron rice, roasted vegetables drizzled in olive oil, and baskets of warm bread that made the whole room feel richer.

Everything was plated perfect, and the servers kept our glasses filled with a white wine that was crisp but sweet.

Toni was seated across from me, and I couldn’t even lie—she was holding her own.

Somehow, she had Abeni laughing, telling stories about growing up in her neighborhood, about how she used to cook with her grandmother, and how her family used to gather every Sunday for meals.

Toni’s voice was animated but respectful, and the way Abeni leaned in to listen to her let me know she was making an impression.

I almost couldn’t believe it. Out of all of us, Toni was the one I thought might get overlooked, but she had Abeni, someone so regal and sophisticated smiling like she was enjoying herself.

On the other side of the table, Ka’mari was shrinking smaller by the second.

She hadn’t said much since the food was served, and the little she did say went ignored.

Abeni would glance at her every now and then, then look away just as quick, like there was something she wanted to address but was choosing not to.

Watching it made me feel good in a way I wasn’t ashamed of.

Ka’mari had been so loud about knowing how to act in front of them, so confident she was the expert because of her past, but right now she was the one fading into the background.

Meanwhile, Pressure sat beside his father, and the two of them carried a different kind of conversation.

It wasn’t business heavy, but just enough to show me how much respect he had for Kojo.

He listened intently, answered carefully, and never once cut his father off.

It was wild to see him like that because around me he was this freaky, weed-smoking, cursing nigga who couldn’t keep his hands off me when he wanted me.

But here, with his father across from him, he was disciplined, composed, almost a different man.

Something about that turned me on more than I expected because it showed me another layer of him.

He wasn’t just wild and reckless; he was raised well, and he carried that respect with pride.

I tried to focus on my plate, cutting into the salmon and taking small bites while sipping my wine, but I couldn’t ignore the way Abeni’s eyes kept drifting toward me.

Every so often, I would look up and catch her studying me, her expression unreadable.

She didn’t frown, but she didn’t smile either.

It was the kind of look that made me feel like she could see straight through me, and it made me shift in my chair even when I didn’t want to.

When lunch finally wound down and the servers began clearing plates, Abeni set her glass down and looked directly at me. Her voice was calm, but it left no room for me to misunderstand. “Kashmere, why don’t you come sit with me in the living room for a moment.”

It caught me off guard, but I managed to nod.

I stood, smoothing my gown down with shaky hands, and followed her into the living room.

The space was elegant, furnished with plush chairs and a velvet sofa that looked untouched.

She sat gracefully on the edge of the sofa, crossing her legs at the ankle, and motioned for me to sit beside her.

A server brought fresh glasses of wine, and for a moment the only sound in the room was the clink of glass against the table.

I sat stiff, holding my glass like it was a lifeline, until Abeni tilted her head toward me. Her voice was gentle but carried weight. “You’re a bold woman, I can see that. But at the table today you didn’t have many words. Why is that?”

I swallowed hard, embarrassed by how fast my nerves were showing. “I’m sorry,” I said honestly. “I was just nervous. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing or make a bad impression.”

Her lips curved slightly, but it wasn’t exactly a smile. “Don’t be sorry. Just be yourself. That is the only way you’ll ever truly be seen.”

Her words sat heavy, and I stared down at the rim of my glass, debating if I should open up or just nod and let the moment pass.

But something about her presence made me want to be real.

I lifted my eyes slowly. “Being myself is exactly what feels like the problem. Every time I let myself show up as me, it feels like that’s when things get messy. ”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Or perhaps you’re mistaking being yourself with being problematic. There’s a difference. Tell me, Kashmere, have you been problematic?”

My throat felt dry, and my palms were sweating. I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. My voice was low when I admitted it. “Sometimes I feel like I might be pushing Pressure away. I go off on him a lot, and it’s not always fair. I don’t mean to, but it happens before I can even stop myself.”

Immediately, I wanted to take my words back because it hit me that I wasn’t just talking to anybody—I was talking to Pressure’s mother.

She loved her son, and the last thing I needed was for her to picture me as some woman who only brought chaos into his life.

What mother wants her son tied to somebody who can’t keep the peace?

Abeni leaned back, sipping her wine before responding.

Her voice was calm but laced with wisdom.

“It’s not a crime to feel strongly, but it is important to control how you express it.

When you love someone, you don’t just listen to respond—you listen to understand.

Approaching conflict with an open heart doesn’t mean you silence yourself, it means you value the connection enough to fight for peace instead of chaos.

That’s the kind of daughter-in-law I want. ”

Her words hit me in places I didn’t expect.

Nobody had ever told me something like that, not in that way.

My own mother would’ve just criticized me, made me feel like I was never enough, like I was the problem without giving me any way to fix it.

Abeni’s words weren’t a dismissal, they were guidance.

She reached out and rested her hand lightly over mine, her eyes warm but sharp.

“You seem like a wonderful young woman, Kashmere. But understand this—it takes more than beauty to captivate a man’s soul and become part of his legacy.

If you want a place in my son’s future, you’ll have to bring him peace as well as passion. Can you do that?”

I didn’t answer right away because the question wasn’t simple. It wasn’t about whether I loved Pressure, it was about whether I could grow into the kind of woman who could truly stand beside him. Finally, I nodded. “I want to.”

“Then start there,” she said simply, and lifted her glass like the conversation was complete.

I sipped my wine and let her words sink into me.

For once, I didn’t feel criticized or dismissed.

I felt like someone was showing me a different way to look at myself, like I wasn’t doomed to be this angry, misunderstood girl forever.

Abeni was everything my mother wasn’t—graceful, nurturing and honest without being cruel.

When I finally left the living room and walked back toward the others, I carried myself differently. Her words had given me something to think about and hold onto. For the first time in a long time, I felt empowered.