Page 13 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

Instead, I raised the second one—the one that had been aimed at the lead guard—and trained it on Victor.

Now we were both standing there.

Both armed.

Both ready to kill.

The air between us was electric.

Charged with violence that was about to happen.

“You think I won’t do it?” Victor asked. His voice was calm. “You think I won’t put you in the ground for disrespecting my daughter?”

“I think you’ll try,” I said. “And I think you’ll die trying. You not stupid. My dad will have your head if you touch me.”

We stood there.

Locked in a standoff that could only end one way.

Then the front door opened again.

Yahmaria stepped out.

She was wearing a white sundress that clung to her curves, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her makeup perfect despite the early hour.

She looked between me and her father.

Then she walked down the porch steps and positioned herself directly between us.

“Stop,” she said.

Her voice was steady.

The voice of a woman who’d grown up watching men kill each other over pride and had learned how to navigate the violence.

“Yahmaria—” Victor started.

“Daddy, put the gun down.”

Victor didn’t move.

Neither did I.

Yahmaria turned to face me.

Up close, I could see the calculation in her eyes. The intelligence. The understanding that she held all the cards, and we both knew it.

“There’s no divorce coming, Amai,” she said quietly. “You need to accept that.”

“Like hell?—”

“You can introduce me to Truth,” she continued, her voice never rising, “or I can pop up on her myself. In the Seventh Ward. At her mama’s house. Or wherever she is for that matter. You of all people know how resourceful I am.”

My blood went cold.

“You stay the fuck away from her.”

“Then introduce us.” Yahmaria tilted her head. “Let me meet the woman who’s carrying my husband’s baby. Let me see what’s so special about a surrogate from the hood that’s got you acting like this.”