Page 13 of Obsessive Love

PYRITE

“So you are going to kill me?” Fable yelled and jumped from her chair. “What the fuck is the point of sitting down if you already have plans to kill me?” She slammed her hand on the table, and the dishes rattled. “I am not responsible for either of the Javiens’ debts! Kill them niggas!”

“Sit down,” I calmly said and pointed to her chair. Seeing Fable fired up turned me the fuck on. My dick was so hard it was pushing against my pants, and I loved that shit.

“No!”

“Sit the fuck down,” I said again.

“Sit down?” Fable reared back, and her face twisted in annoyance.

It took everything in me not to laugh at her ass.

She pushed her chair back and started pacing; she looked at me like I wasn’t shit, then rolled her pretty ass eyes.

Every so often, she’d look over at me and grill the fuck out of me.

“Nigga told me I wasn’t leaving here with my life and then in the next breath tells me to sit down.

What the fuck do I look like? A gotdamn fool is what!

I have a fucking life, one that doesn’t include either of the Javiens.

” She stopped pacing and faced me. “I have a quiet life, Pyrite. I live a normal life. I have friends; I am dating.”

“Who?” I sat forward, ready to end the life of the lucky or unlucky nigga, in my opinion.

“Who what?”

“Is your boyfriend?” I racked my brain, trying to remember if I saw the name of a boyfriend, and came up blank.

“I don’t have a boyfriend; I’m dating, as in going on dates and shit,” she clarified, and I waved her off.

“You saved that nigga’s life then,” I absently said, and she let out a laugh.

“His life is spared, but mine isn’t?” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Unfuckingbelieveable! Have that same energy for me! Spare my fucking life.”

“No,” I denied, shaking my head. “The life you knew is over.”

“But I like my life!” she replied. Her eyes filled with tears, and I hated that shit. “I’m happy. Don’t take that away from me because of Javien! I don’t deserve that!”

“Says you,” I said and shrugged. “You want to see your room?”

“Just kill me,” she requested, and I shook my head. “Why not? You want to see me suffer, have me beg?” she laughed humorlessly. “That isn’t going to happen. I won’t beg you for shit, ever.”

I chuckled as I stood from my chair. “Yes, you will,” I replied. “Now, come on, so you can see where you’ll be sleeping.”

“Bury me at the top of a hill so I can watch the sunset every day; it’s my favorite thing to do,” she mumbled behind me as she followed.

“Noted,” I said as we walked through the living room. On the way to her room, I gave her small details about each space. My office was off-limits, but she could go to every other room.

“Why can’t I go into your office?”

“Because it’s mine,” I answered as we passed the door.

Truthfully, I knew once she stepped foot in there, I would never be able to work in peace again.

Every room Fable entered was filled with her scent, and thoughts of her filled my mind.

I spent hours watching her while I was supposed to be working, and having her in my space would have my head gone.

We walked up the stairs and passed the room that was initially intended for her. Instead, we walked to my bedroom, and I pushed open the door. My room was my sanctuary, and I wanted her in here.

“Look around and tell me what you want to change,” I said, stepping to the side.

“Change?” she asked, and I nodded. “Gonna make me comfortable before you kill me?”

“Something like that,” I replied with a shrug.

“Pull out your phone so you don’t miss what I’m about to say,” she countered, and I did what she instructed.

“New bed — I refuse to sleep on something that you’ve fucked bitches in.

” I chuckled but didn’t say anything. No woman had shared that bed; in fact, no one outside of close friends and family had ever stepped into my home.

I didn’t believe in sharing spaces with anyone whose energy didn’t sit right with my soul. But Fable didn’t need to know that yet.

“What else?”

“The wall color needs to change.”

“To?”

“Dark purple and blue,” she answered as she walked around my room.

Right now, everything was black, but I didn’t have a problem with her wanting it to reflect her.

I planned for her to redecorate the entire house to reflect her style, anyway.

By the time she noticed it, it would be too late for her to do anything about it. “I like the floor, so a rug will do.”

“What about the bathroom?” I asked. Fable looked around, and I pointed to the door to her left and watched as she pulled it open. “What do you want to change in there?”

“Nothing,” she answered as she looked around. Her answer surprised me since it was decorated in black like the kitchen. “It can stay.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding. I sent my assistant her list, put my phone in my pocket, and leaned against the wall. “Now, would you like to hear my plans for you?”

“I don’t want to see my death coming,” she denied, shaking her head. “Surprise me.”

“Noted,” I laughed. “Until then, Story Time is going to become global.”

“Excuse me?” she gawked, and I smirked. “Global? How the fuck is that going to happen?”

“You’re a smart woman, Fable; figure it out,” I said, then pushed off the wall. “Until then, get comfortable. You’re in for the long haul.” I turned and left the room, locking the door behind me.

“Fuck you, Pyrite Stone!” she yelled and pounded at the door. “You hear me, fuck you!”

“I don’t like it,” I said to my mama as I moved around her kitchen. I would have rather been at home, dealing with Fable’s so-called attitude, but we came when Mama requested our presence. It didn’t matter that we were grown-ass men.

“You haven’t tried it,” Mama replied, rolling her eyes. “Don’t say you don’t like something if you haven’t tried it.”

“I haven’t tried a lot of things, and I know I don’t like them,” I countered and shook my head.

She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “Like what, Pyrite?” she asked with a skeptical look. “Because out of all my children, you are the most stubborn and set in their ways.”

“All kinds of shit,” I answered with a shrug.

She wasn’t lying; I was the most stubborn and hated trying new shit.

The food on the counter next to her was no different.

As a kid, I ate the same things: breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

If Mama tried to change the menu, I wouldn’t eat, and she didn’t give a damn. I went to bed hungry plenty of times.

“Try it, Pyrite Stone,” she demanded, pointing to the plate. I pushed off the counter and stared at the plate. My face instantly twisted, and she giggled softly. I cut my eyes at Mama, and she threw her hands up in surrender. “I’ll shut up.”

“What exactly is it?” I asked as I picked up the plate and examined it.

“Stuffed squid with rice and herbs.”

I looked up from the plate and stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Who the hell gave you this to try?”

“Citrine,” she answered with a laugh. “He swore it was good.”

“Mama, that nigga eats ass, like legitimately puts his mouth on his woman’s ass and sticks his tongue in it.” I walked over to the trash can and dumped the food and the plate into it. “I can not believe you were about to have me try something that nigga suggested.”

“Get my damn plate out of the trash!” she laughed, and I shook my head. “Little boy, I’m not playing with you! That plate is one of my favorites.”

“I’ll buy you a new set,” I replied. Mama walked over to me and tried to reach into the trash to grab the plate, but I blocked her. “Don’t touch that shit. Like for real, don’t.”

“It's not that bad,” she laughed and backed up.

“You tried it?” I asked her, surprised as fuck. Mama talked a lot of shit to me about not trying new things, but she was just as bad as I was at times.

“Yes,” she answered and nodded. “Which is why I know you’ll like it.”

I stared at her, momentarily confused, then pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed my brother's number. This nigga had me fucked up; dragging my mama into his weird shit was just too much.

“What’s good?” Citrine answered.

“You got me fucked up,” I said, still watching mama. She was laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath.

“The fuck I do now?”

“You brought that damn food over here, and Mama tried to get me to try it,” I answered.

Citrine kissed his teeth and then laughed. “Nigga, that shit is good.”

“You eat ass, you don’t know what the fuck good is,” I replied. “Don’t bring shit else over to my mama's house for her to try. I don’t give a damn what you think is good. Run that shit by me first.”

“Yo grown ass still eats dino chicken nuggets with ketchup; you don’t know what the fuck good is,” he replied.

“You heard what the fuck I said,” I said, then hung up. I continued watching Mama laugh; all I could do was shake my head in disbelief. Her goofy ass thought this shit was funny and would probably start up again as soon as my pop walked in the house. “It ain’t that funny.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, waving me off. It took her a few more minutes to get herself together, but she finally did and leaned against the counter. “Now, what’s been going on with you? I haven’t seen you in over a week.”

“Work,” I answered, and she twisted her mouth like she didn’t believe me. “I’ve acquired a new business.”

“Which is?”

“A bakery,” I replied, and she reared back in surprise.

“You don’t even like sweets like that, Pyrite,” she said, and I shrugged. “Why buy it if you won’t try the food?”

“I ate a cookie from there,” I said as I pulled up the feed from the security cameras at my house.

Since locking Fable in my bedroom, she hadn’t said a word to me.

I brought her all her meals, and she sat on the floor, eating, and never paid me any attention.

Shit was annoying as fuck because I liked the sound of her voice.

“You ate a cookie, as in one, and decided to buy the company?” she questioned, and I nodded. “The cookie made that much of an impression on you?”

“Something like that,” I said as I watched Fable. She was lying on the floor, sketching. That was something new; she usually wrote down recipes and marketing strategies. I wanted to pick her brain and see what she had planned, but I didn’t want to overstep.

“Who is that?” Mama asked. I looked up to see her standing next to me, her eyes glued to my phone, and an inquisitive expression.

“Fable,” I answered. “The baker.”

“You bought her bakery, and now you have her in your house?” Mama questioned.

“Something like that.”

She looked up from the phone, and I saw the wheels in her head start to turn. “What do you mean, something like that? Is she the owner of the bakery you just bought?”

“Mama, are you sure you want the answer to your question?” I asked with a smirk. “Because you might not like the answer.”

“Did you do something illegal, Pyrite?” she inquired, and I continued to stare at her.

Growing up, we were taught to never lie to our parents, and we didn’t.

As adults, we won't answer when we know they won’t like our answers.

“Is it severe?” Again, she was met with silence.

Mama looked at me and then shook her head. “Is she in danger?”

“She’s not the one in danger,” I answered.

“Then who is?” she questioned, returning my phone. “You better answer me, too.”

“Whoever thinks they can take her from me,” I said as I looked down at my phone to see Fable still sketching. “She’s mine, Mama.”