Page 57 of When Love Takes Over
As soon as we stepped inside, I was in awe, and I was only in the vestibule. Kenzo slipped out of his shoes, and I did the same. Although he took my hand again, he was almost pulling me as I lagged behind, admiring my surroundings.
We walked through what I assumed was the formal living room, and it looked like something out of a magazine. It was decorated in neutral tones, and nothing was out of place. The tall windows let in natural light, making the scene even more beautiful.
My unofficial tour ended because the next room we entered was the dining room. Our presence was immediately noticed, and several pairs of eyes were on us as we stood in the entry.
“Kenny, I’ve been calling you all weekend,” a woman who I assumed was Kenzo’s mother said.
“Good morning, Ma. You didn’t get any of my texts?”
“I did, but I wanted to talk to you, and you didn’t answer any of my calls.”
“I apologize. It was a busy weekend. Ma, Pops, Gramps, this is Malyah, . . . my wife.”
As I smiled and waved uncomfortably, the sound of silverware hitting glass filled the room before everyone voiced their confusion. My eyes locked with those of a pretty, petite, fair-skinned woman who was seated between a handsome older gentleman and an older version of herself.
She slowly pushed her chair back and stood before aggressively tossing a cloth napkin on top of her plate. The expression she held was one of anger, and if she was invited here under the guise of being courted by and eventually marrying Kenzo, I’d be pissed too.
Around me, everyone overtalked each other, but it all sounded like white noise because my focus was elsewhere. When she finally spoke, all that could be heard was her voice.
“Quiet!” she shouted, gaining everyone’s attention. When she had it, she looked back and forth between her parents before continuing.
“I told you I didn’t want to do this, and it wasn’t a good idea. This isn’t the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. You can’t go around arranging marriages like business deals. I don’t know this man or this family, and neither do you, but you were all too eager to marry your only daughter off to a stranger to fatten your pockets. This is embarrassing, and I’m ready to go. Congratulations to you both.”
She marched out of the dining room, and her parents didn’t hesitate to follow. Once they were gone, all eyes were on us, but I couldn’t read their expressions.
“Did you really go off and get married without telling us?” Mrs. Goode asked.
“I did.”
“You told me you weren’t having sex with her?”
“I wasn’t at the time.”
“You knew about her?” Mrs. Goode questioned her husband.
“Malyah is one of our employees. I didn’t know her and Kenzo were a thing.”
“Ma, Pops didn’t know any more than you and Gramps.”
“How long have you two known each other?” Mrs. Goode inquired.
“Longer than I would’ve known anyone you set me up with.”
“Watch your tone with my wife. I’ve had to say that one too many times to you lately,” his father said.
“My bad. I don’t mean any disrespect.” Kenzo apologized.
“Why don’t you two go wash up and have some breakfast? There’s plenty of food, and it’ll give us some time to get to knowyour wife,” the eldest Kenzo said, speaking for the first time since we entered the room.
The youngest Kenzo looked at me, and I nodded. He led me to the powder room, where we washed our hands in silence. Before going back to the dining room, he stopped me.
“You good?” he asked.
“Considering the situation, I’m fine.”
“We don’t have to stay?—”
“I can’t decline your grandfather’s invitation. That would be rude.”
