Page 7 of Mafia Kings & Wedding Rings

Ivo Marek

The next day…

“ M mm, good morning, Mr. Marek,” my wife, Jordan, purred with one of her legs draped over mine while stroking my chest.

My morning wood was damn sure ready for whatever she had in mind.

Stretching and yawning beside her, I smiled when her hand reached down to stroke my joint before softly applying pecks to my lips.

Her mouth was minty fresh, which meant she got up already and brushed her teeth.

We’d been married for five years, and she still did little shit like fix her hair and brush her teeth then get back in bed with me like she just woke up.

“Morning.”

“You ready for today?” she asked, sitting up and straddling me in her lavender silk gown.

Jordan was sexy as hell. She was poised and soft spoken, but baby could turn the freak up when needed.

When she felt threatened, she became cold, calculated, and vengeful.

I’d done my share of dirt in our time together, and although she had forgiven me, she also knew to let me suffer sometimes.

She was no stranger to getting her lick back either.

Shit was toxic, but we loved each other.

Cuffing her fat ass and giving it a squeeze, I reached out to cup her cheek and draw her closer.

“Are you?” I checked with her.

“I know that it’s the next step, it’s just kind of scary.

I don’t know exactly how I feel.” She stroked the design of the tattoo on my chest with the tip of her middle finger.

“I know that I love you and I want to have a baby with you. If I can’t carry a baby for you, then this is an option for us. ”

“You know I love you either way, right?” I ran my fingers through her long, straight hair and looked into her honey-tinted eyes.

“I know, but… it’s not just about us now, is it?” she posed, lifting her brows and stroking my low-cut fade and waves. “In order for us to have everything that belongs to us, we have to make a baby. However that needs to happen.” All this talk about babies and shit had me soft now.

I always thought when I got my wife pregnant it would be one of those memorable moments.

I’d heard other men talk about how they knew when they knocked their wives up and thought that shit was dope.

One of life’s greatest gifts was bringing children into this world.

The better parts of you and somebody you love, at least that’s what I always thought looking at my life.

Jordan didn’t have a lot of family so mine became hers over time.

When I met her in high school, she had lost her mother two years prior and her father just months before.

She and her siblings weren’t close, and she ended up befriending the one girl in school that I would have done everything to keep her away from.

Not because Emerald Crane was a bad person, but because she was the only girl in school a nigga ever had a crush on.

I was a hoop star and basketball was my life.

Emerald was smart, and it was hard to keep up with classes while trying to win games too.

She tutored me, I even taught her how to play basketball.

We enjoyed picnics together, and I always thought she was the prettiest girl in the world.

From her smile to the way she laughed and her plump pink lips and slim nose.

A part of me left with her when she left the Bluffs for college.

In her absence, Jordan and I grew closer, and somehow our connection to her bonded us.

We got married and been locked in ever since.

Emerald moved on with her life, and I was never even on her radar.

It was best for everyone around in the end that she cut ties the way that she did.

Every now and then I couldn’t help but think about her, that was a given.

I loved Jordan, there was no doubt, but sometimes my mind would wander.

Shit with Emerald was complicated thanks to her family.

We spent most of our time together on some sneak shit because neither of her parents approved of me.

Those obstacles didn’t keep me from thinking about how my life might have turned out had I chosen different.

She called the shots because she was so afraid to be cut off from her family.

I told her I had her and would do whatever to take care of her, but for some reason, Emerald couldn’t have faith in that.

Either that or someone was in her ear about me.

Whatever it was, she picked up and moved the first chance she got.

I can’t even remember getting a proper goodbye.

“I’mma go shower and get ready.” I nudged Jordan aside and slid out of bed slowly.

“Really, Ivo? I’m fucking horny,” Jordan whined.

“We gotta be on time, right, Jay? Let me get cleaned up and we can have lunch after, aight?”

“Fine,” she said, pouting like a little kid with her arms tucked across her chest.

“I promise, aight.” I leaned in to kiss her cheek before padding across our plush carpet to the master bathroom.

Once I brushed my teeth, rinsed with Listerine, and flossed, I ran my shower and prepared for this day.

Shit was more mental than physical. Knowing that Jordan was the problem was another blow to our life plans.

She took that shit hella personal in the last few weeks, making it hard for us to connect.

Today was the first day she’d even been affectionate toward me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she was getting something out of it.

This surrogacy shit had me on the fence for real.

On top of all that, since she had some condition preventing her from carrying to term, we had to also have an egg donor.

Her doctor is the one that suggested it.

That meant this baby was mine according to DNA, but not hers.

She didn’t care as long as the end resulted in her holding a newborn in her arms. I was leaning more toward adoption, but my pops made it clear this child had to have my genes.

Shit was a lot to deal with over the past two weeks, and I don’t feel like I’d been handling anything, just pushing through it.

Now here I was about to face some life-altering shit, and I wasn’t sure I was all in.

Not because of Jordan. The thought of planting my seed in a stranger was weird as fuck.

The agency we were going through had listed us with a few potential women, and after the first batch, Jordan didn’t find any of them acceptable.

Today we were going to interview new candidates.

All this shit was foreign to me, but apparently, the surrogacy industry was something that seemed to be growing.

“Mmm, well you looking ultra fine today.” Jordan set her coffee mug on the counter.

She paused to help adjust my red tie in the black Tom Ford suit I’d chosen for today.

“Who you trying to impress?” she mocked, leaning in to peck my lips.

“I have to go to this meeting later. Staten’s going to be introduced to the execs and everyone else. I’ll probably be late for dinner tonight though.”

“Of course you are,” Jordan sighed with a thick roll of her eyes.

She hated when I worked late and swore up and down I was fucking with somebody every chance she got.

The truth was, running Marek Industries alone was stressful as hell.

Brick had no interest in the company. He made enough on his own being a social media star, but I needed Staten, as much as I hated to say it.

Part of me did resent him for leaving and letting the rest of us just figure it out.

He was a part of this family when he chose to be.

I was trying to get better and move past it, but the shit irritated me on some level every now and then.

With him being around, it was just more in the forefront.

“Listen, we in transition right now, baby. Once Staten is comfortable and settled in his position, I’ll have time for you and this baby we’re making.”

“You do want to do this, right, Ivo? I mean, I know we’ve been through a lot to get here. The miscarriages, the different doctors and tests, now this. Is it too much? Why do we have to jump through all these hoops just to have a baby?”

“I want this Jay, aight. We’re going to have this baby one way or another. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She pushed her lips together before a soft definition of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Here, I made you a breakfast sandwich and some coffee. We gotta go.”

After inhaling the bacon, egg, and cheese on toast, I poured my coffee in a to-go mug.

Once outside, I opened the passenger door to my Bentley Continental GT and let Jordan hop inside.

Rounding the front of the car, I hopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The clinic she had chosen was about thirty minutes from the estate.

Bypassing the main house on the way to the gates, I peered up and saw that there were several dark SUVs parked in the driveway and got curious about it as we neared the gate to leave.

Me to Brick: What’s going on up there?

Brick: Marcella and her bullshit party planning. She thinks it’s a good idea after all the other shit.

Me: Keep me posted on the guest list.

Brick: Say less.

My grandmother found any damn excuse for a party or social event.

For her it was all about ‘saving face.’ Grandpa said she had a flair for making shit look good.

I just didn’t want to be around a bunch of fake muhfuckas, and I’m sure my brothers shared that same sentiment.

Well, Staten moreso than Brick. His entire facade was fake online unless he was fighting.

From the bitches he dealt with to the little drama he encountered on his day to day.

Either way, he did that shit and got a bag doing it.

His streams did numbers on every platform.

The Marek money was there for him in case of a rainy day.