un·der·bel·ly
/ˈəndərˌbelē/
noun
A hidden unpleasant or criminal part of society.
"the dark underbelly of a ghetto"
"I do for me and mine how I see fit. Even if I have to wage war against everything in my path." His voice so powerful it felt like i...
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***Chapter Playlist*** Boyz 2 Men - End of the Road A Cappella Version
Oakley 'Cench' Caesar-Su West London, UK Three weeks later
Boone: Movement on the Sigmans.
It was the text I had been waiting for, for months now but I couldn't move to address it. She was really gone, and there was nothing I could do about it but find different ways to contact her.
New number. No social media. She hadn't even been to the apartment.
I rolled over in her bed that I kept in my flat, that was one item I couldn't just throw out and I felt comforted by the fact it was something that once touched her. Anything to be close to her again.
There was no way that baby was mine, Sabina knew that. I never trusted using just a condom with her, so I would always crush up plan b into her drink. There was no way she was pregnant with a child that would bare the last name Caesar-Su.
There was only woman in the world that came close to that, and she won't even talk to me. Killian was moving cold, the morning we were suppose to leave she took a commercial flight out of Jamaica back to New York. That wasn't even the plan, the original plan was to stop in New York drop her off, refuel and then the rest of us would fly to London.
I didn't even know if she was okay, I even found myself ready to text or call Ameena. Even she hated me right now, the guys take turns calling me every two hours to make sure I'm okay but I didn't need that. I needed Killian. I needed my woman back.
My princess, my soft cuddly princess. It's been three weeks and I felt like I was trapped in my own mind clawing at a brick wall trying to escape. I needed her back in my space, under me, with me, near me. I wanted to wake up to her, go to sleep to her, put her in my pockets and keep her all to myself.
The incoming call from Boone ripped me from my thoughts, answering I snapped. "What?"
"Anyways," He cleared his throat, taken aback by my tone of voice I'm sure. "Word from intel at Heathrow is the Sigman boys are using a private tarmac to board a flight to New York tomorrow night."
New York?
To my knowledge they have no businesses or connections in New York, so that alone was a problem for me. "Get the pilot on the phone we need a flight out tonight." I mumbled quickly before hanging up, searching for Ameenas number I put my pride to the side and call her.
She sends me to voicemail quickly, and I call again, and again I'm sent to voice mail.
Cench: Ameena.
I call once again, and she answers on the third ring.
"How can I help you?" Her tone is sharp, and I roll my eyes at her being the one with the attitude.
