Mafia Princess by King Deja; Monay Michelle

Author:King, Deja; Monay, Michelle [King, Deja; Monay, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-06-21T21:46:50.758000+00:00

Chapter 12

As Semaj dressed a dreadful feeling fil ed the pit of her stomach. It hurt her badly, because she knew this would be the last time she would ever see her auntie’s face. It felt as if someone had snatched her heart from her chest. For nearly her entire life, her auntie had been there for her and now she was just a memory. There was a void in Semaj’s existence that no one could fil , because nobody would be able to take the place of the woman that gave her own life for hers.

Seeing her like this tore Quasim’s world up. She was always so live, energetic and assertive. This was the second time he witnessed her so fragile and vulnerable but this time was different. Semaj stayed locked up in the bedroom up until the funeral. She didn’t speak to anyone. She even gave him the silent treatment and pushed him away unintentional y.

Quasim was patient with her though. He understood the grieving stage. He knew that eventual y she would have to deal with it and in its fresh stages were the worst. He knew that she was mourning, so he turned a blind eye to her silence. Wanting to give her the space she desired, his heart couldn’t al ow it though—her pain was like a magnet to his soul—it drew him close. He catered to her, fixing her food, though her appetite was nonexistence and cuddled with her for solace.

With every passing day, Quasim was becoming increasingly annoyed that no one could find Block. Many members from his team had been knocked off or severely injured at Quasim’s order. Through Murder Mitch’s hatred it pretty much ended Block’s reign over his own city. For Quasim, that wasn’t enough though. He wouldn’t be able to ful y relax until Block was dealt with and he was marked a memory. It surpassed the dope game.

The situation was deeper than that. It was about respect. As long as he was stil alive, Quasim would not be able to regain his complete sense of security, expecting him to strike back at any moment.

Emerging from the bathroom, Quasim looked at his beautiful lady as she sat on the bed in a snug sleeveless, black, designer tailored dress and clasped the straps on the Christian Dior black stiletto pumps. She stood and grabbed her python clutch bag. The black flower bedecked at the front of her pinned tresses, and the black delicate python gloves made her look like a modern day Bil ie Holiday. Quasim took her arm in his, and the couple walked outside to the awaiting limo.

When they arrived to Omega Baptist Ministry it was fil ed with Brooklyn’s street elite. From hustlers and haters known and unknown to Semaj poured into the church to pay their respects to the young woman that had fal en victim to street violence. The limo had let them out directly in front of the popular black church. As if the

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