Duched (Duched #1)

by Xavier Neal

  Brie ushers her hand at the door. “After you...”

  Now you're probably having a moment here, wondering how the hell have we been together for months and the world not know? It's one of the benefits of no one other than my family knowing exactly where I am. While I've still got thousands of people stalking my social media accounts, I don't post anything that would give them a real hint to my whereabouts or who I've been spending time with. Online, Brie is nothing more than 'her' in my posts, not only to protect her anonymity but to preserve the bit of my own I've managed to cultivate for once in my life. Don't get me wrong. I may only posts photos of objects or selfies, but we take tons of personal couple photos. Brie doesn't post them online out of her own free choice and I have enjoyed sharing them only with my brother and Soph. I knew we wouldn't be able to hide forever, but it doesn't mean I have to be thrilled to toss the woman I love into the lime light and watch it attempt to burn her.

  The two of us casually stroll into the swarm of hungry photographers surrounding the building’s entrance. We take a moment to pause for an obnoxious multitude of flashes before we continue into the fundraiser.

  As soon as we're on the other side of the door, past the host waiting to take our invitations, Brie sighs, “I think I'm blind.”

  “Of course you are, love. That's why you wear glasses.”

  Her jaw is floored seconds before a waiter offers, “Champagne?”

  I grab us each a flute and give him a polite nod of thanks.

  When I offer her one, she snips, “That and to let the world immediately know I'm smarter than you.”

  A small chortle escapes. Afterwards we clink our glasses together with matching grins.

  I know I shouldn't be worried with an attitude like hers in a room full of people whose egos could afford to be fall a peg or two, but that's precisely what makes me nervous. They're used to being flattered and favored to their faces and criticized behind their backs. A little too much honesty might end in disaster.

  Swiss lingers towards the back where several other security details happen to be waiting while the two of us head into the heart of the event. Almost instantly, I'm approached by familiar faces of both men and women and begin casual introductions to Brie. Each conversation closely resembles one another as do their expressions upon meeting her. I expect a degree of shock, however the abundant amount on several faces has me concerned it's not over the simple fact I'm show casing a girlfriend.

  Perhaps I'm being paranoid?

  The two of us veer towards the right when our path is blocked by a dainty blonde with a bobbed haircut. She coos, “Kellan...”

  “Gwen,” I greet back, tightening my grip on Brie's hip. “Always a pleasure.”

  “You as well,” she replies before giving Brie a skeptical glance. “I see you've brought a date.”

  Proudly, I state, “Yes. My girlfriend. Brie Sanders meet Gwen Dickens. She's an award winning actress in Doctenn.”

  “Several,” her snip is directed at the woman in my arms.

  Now is not a good time to wander if that snip is because things didn't end well between us.

  They shake at the same time Gwen says, “I don't recognize you. Are you an American actress?”

  “No,” Brie politely answers. “I'm an art student.”

  The sneer on Gwen's face is unmistakable. “Is that a joke?”

  She slowly shakes her head.

  “You're a student? Not even a graduate?”

  “Soon,” Brie kindly retorts.

  Gwen pins her green eyes back on me. “She's not your normal type in so many ways, Kellan.” Her eyes cut Brie an additional glance before adding, “You two don't seem as if you...match.” Before I have a chance to retort, she continues, “On a different note, how is the program? Hopefully my donations are being spent wisely and not on something frivolous like a colorful art student's tuition.”

  Of course her remarks are cunty because she was one of those women who assumed that because we slept together and she was famous, I'd naturally call, but tell me, and be honest, do you hear an additional hatred Brie's direction for...well for not being fair skinned?

  Brie uncomfortably adjusts herself in my arms.

  Safe to assume she's noticing as well.

  “Your donations are going to the same place they always do, Gwen.”

  “Expanding?”

  Reluctantly, I reply, “Not at this time.”

  “But I thought-”

  “It is the intention, however at this time not our direct focus.”

  Someone calls her name from over her shoulder. After glancing to see who it is, she turns back around, smiles, and says, “All right then. I hope it becomes your focus once more, perhaps when your judgment is clear. If you two will excuse me, there's someone I need to speak with.”

  Gwen sharply turns on her heels to head the direction she was summoned.

  The moment she's out of earshot, Brie moves in front of me and questions, “Did you wedge the stick up her ass or was it there before you tried to put your dick in it?”

  Her comment cracks my jaw in surprise.

  “And what do you mean you're not expanding? What happened? Just last week you were going on and on about opening shelters in new locations.”

  I slip my hands in my pocket. “That is what I want, but unfortunately the funds are not permitting it at this time. We are bringing in enough revenue to keep the current shelters open in the ten largest cities in Doctenn and the five we have here in the states, operational. As of right now we have to focus on the changes we can make to those shelters that are open in order to make them more beneficial to the children and youth who rely on them. Right now, our main focus has to stay on the shelters being a warm place to stay, having food to eat, and facilities to use. Some of the shelters in Doctenn have volunteer doctors and nurses, but that's something I want all of the shelters to eventually have, along with some sort of education. Because pocketbooks aren't currently popping open without constant persuasive dinners or pushy called in favors, I have to ensure every dollar we receive sufficiently makes a difference for those relying on our program.”

  To my surprise, Brie steps forward and places a kind hand on my chest. “Have I mentioned how amazing you are?”

  “Not in the past hour. I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten.” When a smile starts, I lean down and capture her lips with mine for a brief moment. “What do you say we grab a drink from the bar and check out the silent auction?”

  “I say-”

  “Kellan!” A woman's voice squeaks behind me.

  Bloody hell...Where are the men?

  I turn to be greeted with a lively grin by a lanky brunette. “Rumor was you would be showing your face this evening.”

  “And here I am.” I wink and slip Brie back into my grip. “Brie Sanders meet Nancy Therlan. She's a writer with the Tenntinal.” My attention lowers to my girlfriend. “Think your New York Times, but for my country.”

  “Oh,” Brie starts, though she is immediately interrupted.

  Nancy shoves her hand out and says, “You must be his date.”

  “Girlfriend,” she corrects for the first time all evening.

  At that moment Nancy's expression grows curiously. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” I retort.

  “But she's...well she's....” Nancy's eyes give Brie a long look then me a pleading one.

  I arch my eyebrows in anticipation for a response.

  “Different,” Nancy quietly finishes. She clears her throat and asks, “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Kellan. For the article?”

  There's a hint of panic in Brie's voice. “What article?”

  “The one regarding this evening's functions. It's just a puff piece she does to remind the good people in our country that we are giving to those around the world.” My head tilts sarcastically at Nancy. “Though it's usually packed with more gossip about those who attended rather than the difference they might've made for the evening.”r />
  She stifles the desire to sneer. “Questions, Kellan?”

  I let out a deep sigh. “Three. And then I'm taking my lovely girlfriend to shop the silent auction for something worthy of a Duchess in the making.”

  The statement gets an intrigued look from both women.

  Was that too forward? What? I'm not planning on asking her today. Perhaps...someday... Perhaps when I'm a little more certain her answer would be yes. Save your breath. There's no need to give me the how long we've known each other speech. If you'd like me to be completely honest with you, there's not a person in my life who knows me better other than my brother. Not to mention, I loathe the idea of another man ever, and I do mean ever, worshiping her the way I do. No other caveman shall be taking her back to his place to enjoy the savage sounds she causes a man to make.

  I motion a hand at her. “The questions.”

  Nancy attempts to regain her focus. “Um...How long have you two been dating?”

  “A few months.”

  A little more than three. I know. Makes the marriage comment seem even more mad, doesn't it?

  “Is this the first event you two have attended together?”

  “Formal yes,” I answer and give Brie a glance. “She did attend the annual run I do here in the states.”

  The recalling of our first night together brings a color to her cheeks.

  “You mentioned you plan on bidding on something for her at the auction tables. Do you have something in mind? Jewelry perhaps? Maybe something gold, which is most likely her tastes.”

  See. Like that there. Was that a dig at African American's preferring gold jewelry or am I yet again reading into her word choice?

  With a smug smirk, I answer, “Not tonight. Not here. I was thinking perhaps the yacht. It'd been fun to sail down the coast of Doctenn with her before hearing my brother complain it can't be parked at the palace.” Nancy giggles and I curtly nod. “If you'll excuse us...”

  The two of us begin to the right once more, this time with me actively avoiding any familiar faces.

  In a low voice, Brie asks, “Are you really gonna bid on a boat?”

  “Yacht.”

  She lets out an annoyed sigh. “Are you really gonna bid on a rich people boat so we can travel the coast?”

  I cease our movements and face her. “Why? Does that interest you?”

  A dreamy look appears in her eyes. “I don't know...I've...I've never done anything like that. It sounds crazy...”

  “How about this summer after you graduate? The two of us could spend it lounging by the water, drinking pints, and having sex in the sun. I know you're still uncertain with what you want to do once you've gotten your degree. Perhaps some time to relax is what you need to have a clear vision?”

  The excitement increases at the same time she whispers, “Maybe...”

  I link our fingers together and step closer. “Maybe is enough for me to bid on that yacht.”

  We lock lips for only a moment before heading to the tables with the items for bid.

  The two of us scan the tables one by one, most of the objects offered far from appealing to us. While Brie takes her time closely examining every item along with the current bid, my eyes helplessly wander around the event. Various sets of eyes try to avert themselves away when caught staring, yet others seem to narrow in disapproval. I do my best to write off the glares as jealousy from women who wish to be in her place, however it doesn't stop me from observing their quick snickers proceeded with swift fingers across the keys of their phones.

  Brie sharply gasps and panic instantly ensues. “Are you alright?!”

  “There's a private showing at the McAllizter Art Studio!” She joyfully exclaims. “Do you have any idea how amazing it would be to go there, never mind a private viewing! The McAllizter Art Studio showcases some of the most profound painters of this decade.”

  I fold my arms firmly across my chest. “Let me get this right. I offer you a summer on a yacht and you would rather spend an afternoon staring at paintings?”

  Brie eagerly nods.

  “You're serious? You'd rather spend a single afternoon with me in misery making snide remarks about artwork than two or three months of aimless sex and sailing?”

  She sweetly drags a hand down my chest. “You had me at making you miserable...”

  Her snicker causes me to roll my eyes and reluctantly add my bid to the sheet of paper. Under my breath, I state, “The things we do for love.”

  After I sign, I look up to see a surprised expression covering her face.

  I just realized why thinking about marriage is even madder than it was before. Shouldn't be considering such a thing when I haven't even bothered mentioning that I love her out loud. But I'm siding with Soph on this matter. Just because it hasn't been said, doesn't make it any less true or real.

  Brie begins to say something when an older male huffs from beside me.

  I turn his direction and he says, “Excuse me. Do you mind if I place a bid?”

  “Of course not.” Handing him the pen, I casually joke, “Bidding is only fun when someone is willing to compete with you.”

  The dark haired man smirks. “True. Though, if we're being honest, I prefer to have at least one thing I can fall back on as knowing it's in the bag, if you know what I mean.”

  Out of natural habit, I slink an arm around Brie's waist, and sigh, “Normally, yes, especially since all of this is for a good cause, but my girlfriend has her heart set on this one, so you might want to consider another fall back.”

  Brie offers me a sweet smile.

  The stranger signs his name and bids regardless. “Your girlfriend's taste is surprising.” When he looks up he gives her a brief look before stating to me, “Surprised someone like her could ever actually take interest in something not endorsed by an overpaid celebrity.”

  I defensively snap, “I beg your pardon?”

  He holds up a hand as if to keep the peace. “I just meant, it's unusual for people like her to have a real interest in the actual arts rather than what a hip-hop mogul might've mentioned.”

  Do you believe me now?

  Equal parts disgusted and infuriated, I bite, “And I think it's unusual for people like you to be let out of your cages among those of us who are actually civilized.”

  The man doesn't seem to be bothered by the retort. He merely gives me a sympathetic smirk and strolls away as if nothing happened.

  Unbelievable...

  With horror still plastered on my face, I look at Brie who appears un-phased by the entire thing. In a sweet voice, she urges, “Could you please outbid him now? I really really wanna see the only painting the French artist LuTu was willing to display in our country.”

  Unsure if her non-existent response to the blatant hatred is a well-executed act or her honest reaction, I simply snatch the pen, scribble my name alongside an outrageous price, and question, “Shall we get a drink?”

  Brie hums in contemplation. “Can we get food instead? Maybe something that's not bite sized, though I do approve of how many of the finger foods are wrapped in bacon.”

  Her playful comment relaxes the tightness tangled throughout my chest. “We can grab an actual bite on the level above.”

  Once she threads her arm around mine, I lead us towards the stairs, burying the indignation to the best of my ability.

  On the upper level, we're seated at a balcony table where we're given a remarkable view of the room. We order another round of drinks, several seafood appetizers to share, and exchange traveling stories. While mine to most people would be considered more exhilarating, I'm helplessly caught up in every one of her ordinary tales of amusement park disasters.

  How many times can one child get lost in a theme park before their parents decide maybe that's not the best place for family adventures?

  “So are you telling me not to let you wander around the city by yourself or not to take you to an amusement park?”

  Brie giggles and gives me a small shrug.
“Mmm...probably both.”

  The two of us erupt into laughter only to be almost immediately interrupted.

  “Kellan,” the man says warmly. “Surprised you're here.”

  “Someone has to spend my family's money,” I chuckle and extend my hand for us to shake. Afterwards I introduce, “Brie, meet Ronald Randolph. He's an investment genius who married a bikini model.”