The music went quiet as a man took the stand. He started off by welcoming everyone to the gala and then thanked them for coming. "Now," he perched his rectangular glasses on his nose. "The moment you've all been waiting—let the auction begin."
Of the ten items displayed and sold, none had piqued Chevelle's interest. A gasp left her mouth at the sight of the most recent item being auctioned off; a handcrafted tea set. Chevelle was quick to raise her paddle high in the air.
"Tell me what you're going to do with that," DeMarcus whispered in her ear.
Chevelle gnawed at her bottom lip and scowled at him. She had no idea what she was going to do with the set of tea cups, but she knew she needed them.
"Going once...going twice...sold! to the lady in the olive dress."
Letting out a breath of relief she lowered the paddle. Six more items went by before Chevelle raised her padde again, this time for Marilyn Monroe print. By the time the trip to Italy came around not only had Chevelle purchased a tea cup, and a printed photo, but also a diamond cut crystal glass set, and an Audi TT.
"Going once for $10,000."
Chevelle looked around trying to figure out if anyone was going to offer a higher price to stay in Florence, Italy.
"Going twice for $10,000."
DeMarcus snatched the paddle from Chevelle's hand and raised it high above his head. "$25,000."
The room went silent and the auctioneer tore off his glasses. "Going once...going twice...sold! to the gentleman with the dreads!"
"You-" Chevelle turned to him flabbergasted.
DeMarcus winked and tugged her to the back room. "Can I write you a check for this?"
Still stunned, the man nodded. "Th-Thank you."
"I'm starving," DeMarcus muttered as he walked out of the gala with Chevelle tight against his hip. "McDonalds?"
Recovering from her initial shock, Chevelle nodded. "Why—" her mouth went dry and licked her lips to build some moisture. "Why did you do that?"
DeMarcus shrugged. "Drive through or dining in?"
"Drive through." Tugging on the rubber band in her hair, Chevelle shook her head like a dog to get rid of the crease. "Large fry and oreo McFlurry please."
Handing over her food, DeMarcus pulled over into a parking lot and they ate in silence before pulling onto the highway again. "Is there a reason you go to that gala every year?"
Chevelle quirked an eyebrow. "Did you not read my file?"
"No," he said honestly. "It's in my night table, but I figured I could just ask you and get the full story rather than reading from a tiny piece of paper that may or may not be true."
"I had stage two Leukemia when I was fourteen. I started my channel for my family in Jamaica and Korea—and then I became famous. I go there to show support for those who have and have not survived."
Holding the door open for her, DeMarcus watched as Chevelle slipped into her house. "You're a good person, Chevelle." Her name fell off of his tongue smoothly and DeMarcus felt the need to say it over and over, until it was the only thing he could say.
Sending him a final glance, Chevelle pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thanks for being my date." And with that she dropped back onto her heel and sashayed out of the foyer, her wide hips swaying from side to side.
DeMarcus watched her backside as she walked away, his eyes dark with lust. He knew it was wrong to be feeling this way for her: for one he was eleven years her senior, a ripe 32, and secondly—his father was paying him to keep her safe. A groan left his lips and he did a sweep of the main floor, making sure all the doors and windows were locked and the alarm was set before climbing into the shower. His back hit the tile and he let his head fall against the wall, warm water cascading down his body.
Cocking his head to the side he stared his body in the mirror. His new tribal tattoo on his shoulder was still wrapped in plastic, waiting to be let loose. Slathering lotion on his chest, he let his hands wander down to his throbbing member. Another groan left his throat as he gripped it tightly. His brown eyes closed, thinking back to a specific someone who was sleeping downstairs. He imagined her, lips wrapping around him, her big doe eyes staring up at him he fucked her throat roughly. "Fuck," he swore as he painted the bathroom counter with his seed. "Get a fucking grip DeMarcus, she's 21."
&
DeMarcus woke up to a loud crash, one that sounded like a window crashing. Reaching for his revolver that he kept under his pillow he was quick to his feet. Stepping out of the bedroom he kept his gun raised high, the safety off and ready to fire. His feet thundered against the stairs as he made his way to Chevelle's room. She was his priority, not the person who broke into their home. The door to her bedroom was open and he felt his heart sink to his stomach. Peeking in, he saw the closet door closed and he slowly made it way over to it. Twisting the door handle he poked his head inside and sighed when he saw Chevelle pressed up in the corner, her feet poking out. "Chevelle it's me."
A whimper left Chevelle's lips and stumbled to her feet. The room was spinning, but she managed to get to DeMarcus just in time for him to catch her. "What happened?"
DeMarcus looked down at her and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist, to keep her steady. "I don't know. Someone broke a window. Come on, I have to get you somewhere safe." Glancing around the room, a perfect line in the wall caught his eye. Unravelling his arm from her waist, he stepped forward and knocked on the wall. "There's a room back here," he murmured. Pushing the door in he watched it pop out and present a small hidden room. "Get in, don't come out until I come get you. Do you understand me?"
Chevelle nodded, her eyes wide with fear. "I understand."
Kissing her forehead, DeMarcus shooed her in. "You'll be okay." And then he clicked the door shut. Walking back up the stairs he turned to the left and then right before continuing on straight. The deck window was shattered, glass covering the floor beside the island. DeMarcus stepped forward and froze when he heard another crash in the distance. Twirling around he raised his gun and fired, without a second thought. A grunt filled his ears and he knew he hit his target. "Fuck!" He swore when he watched the intruder jump out the deck window and land on the ground. DeMarcus let off another shot, aiming for the person's left shoulder.
"DeMarcus," Chevelle whispered when the small door opened. She moved onto her hands and knees and crawled out. A sob left her mouth as she collided with his chest.
"Sh," DeMarcus pulled her flush against his chest. "It's okay, you're okay. You're okay." Picking her up, DeMarcus walked them out of the closet and towards her bedroom. "Come on," he murmured, pushing her satin sheets back. "Go to sleep, we'll go to the police in the morning."
DeMarcus had been back in his room for only ten minutes when he heard Chevelle's sweet voice call out to him. "Are you okay?" He dropped his phone beside him and sat up quickly.
Chevelle rocked awkwardly from side to side, tugging at the hem of her long sleeve shirt hoping to have it cover her plump ass. "Ca-Can I stay with you tonight?" She looked down at her sock covered feet shyly, "I don't want to be alone tonight."
DeMarcus stared at her with wide eyes and then nodded almost aggressively. Scooching over he made space for her in his King sized bed. He let out a sigh, as their scents clashed; vetiver against vanilla.