Page 20 of Certified Pressure 2
I was the first to notice the movement outside, the way people were coming in and out of the mansion with garment bags, cases, and equipment. Stylists and designers, hair and makeup teams—they were all filing in like we were about toshoot a cover spread for the biggest magazine out. Pressure didn’t waste no time breaking it down. He told us his parents were on the way, and he needed us looking our absolute best.
The words alone made my chest feel tight because I knew this was the moment that could make or break me. Pressure wasn’t the type to do anything halfway, and if it mattered to him that we looked perfect for his parents, then I knew it mattered more than anything I could’ve said or done to prove myself.
Stylists rushed over and started sizing us up. Clothes were being laid out, shoes lined across the floor, jewelry options spread on velvet trays like candy. The air turned busy, hands tugging at hair, brushes sweeping across faces, fabrics pressed to bodies, and cameras snapping photos for reference.
I sat there with my hands in my lap, trying to calm my nerves while somebody worked a comb through my hair. My mind refused to focus on the mirror though. It kept drifting back to Pluto. She had already been there, already sat across from his parents and had her chance to make them believe she was the one. The thought of that made me feel small in a way I hated. What if she had already set the bar too high? What if I could never measure up no matter how pretty they made me?
Pressure’s voice floated back into my head, the way he sounded when he told us to look our best. He hadn’t looked at me directly, but I wanted him to. I wanted his eyes to land on me with the same hunger I knew had once been there. I wanted him to see me, not just as one of the women standing in this mansion, but as the only woman he could picture forever with.
The stylists kept moving around me, adjusting, perfecting, pinning pieces into place, and I forced myself to sit still, and not let the fear show. My whole life I had been told I was too much, too extra, too fast, too bold, but in this moment, I wanted nothing more than to be just right.
The closer it got to his parents arriving, the more the pressure built inside me. I thought about every smile I could put on, every soft answer I could give, every way I could carry myself so I wouldn’t look like I didn’t belong. I was nervous as hell, but walking away wasn’t an option. This was the moment I had been waiting on, the test that could decide whether I had a real shot at being more than just another one of his Diamonds, but the woman sitting at the table of the Mensah family.
And still, no matter how much I tried to block it out, the question crept back in. What kind of impression had Pluto left on them? Would they see me as better, or would I always be the one chasing behind her shadow?
By the time the glam team was done working their magic, I felt like a new woman. They had me poured into a champagne-colored gown that hugged my body like it was sewn just for me, flowing down into a soft train that trailed every step I took. The straps were thin and delicate, brushing against my shoulders as the neckline dipped low enough to tease without giving too much away. My heels were clear with a gold accent on the stiletto. Around my neck they clasped a diamond choker that glittered like it had its own spotlight, and simple but elegant studs in my ears to match. My hair was laid bone straight down my back, glossy enough to reflect the chandeliers, and my makeup had been blended so smooth it looked like I was born with it.
I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time and told myself I fit the part of Pressure’s woman. The one he would be proud to have standing by his side in front of the people who mattered most to him. My heart still pounded with nerves, butthe reflection staring back at me whispered that I could hold my own with anybody.
When I made my way downstairs, I found Toni and Ka’mari already in the sitting area. Toni looked nice in her own way, softer, more playful with her outfit, but it was Ka’mari who had her chin tilted high like she thought she ran the place. I caught the way her eyes slid over me, sizing me up, and I prepared myself because I knew she couldn’t keep her mouth shut for long.
Sure enough, she leaned back with her wine glass balanced in her hand and smirked. “Y’all might wanna listen to me for a second,” she started, her voice smooth like she was delivering a lecture instead of making conversation. “See, I know the Mensah’s, and spent years around them. They not like no regular family, so the last thing y’all wanna do is embarrass yourselves. I can tell you exactly how to act, what to say, how to sit at the table?—”
I cut my eyes at her and then looked her up and down slow before I answered. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do a damn thing,” I said, my voice calm but sharp enough to make her flinch.
Ka’mari didn’t back down, though. She lifted her hand like she was brushing my words off and gave a fake little laugh. “Girl, bye. Like I said, I know them. I know how they move, and when they come in here, you’re gonna see exactly why I’m tryna help. They’ll spot who belongs and who don’t from the jump.”
She said it with this arrogance that crawled all over my skin, like she was trying to mark her territory with words. Toni looked between us, but I couldn’t care less. It was taking everything in me not to slap the makeup right off Ka’mari’s face and remind her that she was an ex for a reason. I clenched my jaw, swallowed my pride, and leaned in closer just so she could see the fire in my eyes. “Don’t get it twisted,” I told her, my voice low but clear.“You might’ve known them once, but you’re not important now. Remember that.”
Ka’mari rolled her eyes and waved me off like she was dismissing a child. “We’ll see who’s really important when the Mensah’s get here,” she muttered, sipping her wine with that same smugness that made me want to snatch the glass right out of her hand, and cluck her ass upside the head with it.
Before I could say something I would regret, the sound of footsteps pulled all of our attention. Pressure appeared at the top of the stairs, and the argument evaporated like it had never existed. He came down slow, dressed in a black silk shirt trimmed in gold, the fabric catching the light with every step. His pants were tailored sharp, and heavy gold chains glistened across his chest. His skin was glowing against the dark fabric, and the cologne he wore drifted through the air before he even reached us. It was the type of scent that demanded attention, deep and rich with a bite of spice that made my stomach flip.
For a moment, all three of us just stared. No matter how many times I seen him, he still had the power to silence a room just by walking into it. Toni tilted her head and grinned, Ka’mari licked her lips like she couldn’t help herself, and I kept my eyes locked on him, letting him know with my stare that I belonged right where I was.
Pressure’s gaze swept over us, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Y’all look good,” he said simply, his voice rough and smooth all at once. That one compliment felt like gold, and I stood a little taller just to hold onto it.
He walked past us to the door, his movements easy but commanding, and when he pulled it open, silence settled across the room.
First to step in was his mother, Abeni. The sight of her alone made me understand exactly why Pressure was who he was. She was draped in a floor-length cream dress that shimmered softlyunder the light, her hair pinned into an elegant bun that showed off her diamond earrings. Her skin glowed with a richness that no stylist could bottle, and her presence filled the entire foyer without her saying a word.
Pressure moved to her instantly, and the way he bowed his head slightly before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek told me everything about his relationship with her. He wasn’t the arrogant king when it came to his mother—he was her son first. She cupped his face in her hands, stared into his eyes like he was still her little boy, and rubbed his cheeks with a tenderness that almost brought tears to mine. The love between them wasn’t just respect, it was worship.
Watching Abeni, I realized she wasn’t just a mother. She was a queen in every sense, regal without needing a crown. She carried herself with the kind of grace that couldn’t be faked, and when her eyes shifted toward us, I felt my nerves spike again.
Then came Kojo Mensah. He stepped in behind her, and the air seemed to shift. His frame was massive, his shoulders broad enough to block the doorway. He wore all black from head to toe, the cut of his suit sharp enough to slice through bone. His skin was deep, smooth chocolate, and his expression carried a weight that made me instantly understand why people feared and respected him in equal measure. Intimidating wasn’t even the right word. He didn’t have to speak for you to know he was a man who could crush you with a thought.
Seeing them up close had my knees damn near giving out, and I honestly don’t know how Pluto stood in these people’s presence and didn’t straight up faint.
Abeni moved first, gliding toward us with a smile that was soft but commanding. She hugged Toni warmly, then leaned in to greet Ka’mari, who nearly melted into her arms like she had been waiting for this moment all day. When Abeni finally came to me, she wrapped me in the same gentle embrace, and I swearmy knees almost buckled. Her perfume was delicate but rich, and the warmth of her arms around me felt like both a comfort and a test.
Kojo didn’t hug us. He just gave each of us a nod, one by one, and that was enough to make the room feel smaller. His silence spoke volumes, and the weight of his eyes on me made my chest tighten.
Pressure clapped his hands together, smiling at all of us like he had just set the stage for something bigger than we could imagine. “Lunch time,” he said, simple as that, but the way he said it let me know this was no casual meal.
As I followed behind them toward the dining room, reality crashed into me harder than it ever had. This wasn’t just about me and Pressure anymore. If he chose me, I wasn’t just marrying him. I was marrying into power, into wealth and into a family that had the world at their fingertips. And as much as I wanted it, the question hit me hard. Was I even ready for everything that came with it?
Sitting at the table with the Mensah’s felt like going to lunch with the damn Obama’s. To say I was nervous as hell would be an understatement. The table was long and polished so smooth I could see my reflection in it, set with crystal glasses and gold-plated utensils. Platters of food lined the center—grilled salmon glazed with honey, roasted chicken seasoned with herbs that smelled like heaven, bowls of saffron rice, roasted vegetables drizzled in olive oil, and baskets of warm bread that made the whole room feel richer. Everything was plated perfect, and the servers kept our glasses filled with a white wine that was crisp but sweet.
