by Tasha Blue
Clarice was her name. She was a petite little French female who spoke with a perfect accent and wore her hair in long light brown waves. It almost seemed as if Charles had picked her up right off the streets of Paris. She liked to wear Eiffel tower earrings and the perfume enveloping her had to be from France. It was unlike any Amber had ever smelled. But when her fragrance overpowered even Charles, it was something to be remembered.
When she spoke, it was almost poetic. “Monsieur,” her hands held two wine glasses, both filled with rose colored bubbling champagne. “Votre champagne.” She smiled, knowing he understood her.
“Ah, oui…Merci beaucoup pour le champagne Mademoiselle Clarice.” He spewed out French as Amber’s jaw dropped.
When Clarice left, her navy blue dress suit disappearing back into the sliding glass doors of the cabin, Amber turned to her boyfriend. “Since when do you speak French?”
He laughed, holding out a glass to her while shrugging his shoulders. “I dabble a little here or there. When you have money, it’s very easy to learn a few French words. It’s a culture that appreciates upper class.”
Accepting the glass, she mumbled. “Of course, which is why they always have their snobby ass noses up in the air like they’re better than everyone else.”
Forgetting that Clarice could be nearby, her eyes darted to the doorway where she disappeared. Inhaling a breath of relief that she hadn’t overheard, she took a sip of champagne. She let the tingling bubbles coat her mouth, swishing it elegantly back her throat.
Charles stared at her expectantly, taking a sip from his own goblet.
“What,” she pried, wondering why he was looking at her with such anticipation.
“Nothing,” he said, leaning his face closer towards her.
He leaned down, elbows on the side railing of the boat that out looked the water. Their cabin was higher up, protected by sliding glass doors, which allowed for an exquisite view.
“Mm,” she squinted her eyes untrustingly. “I don’t know about this,” she clearly voiced her mistrust.
Looking into in her glass she fell into a state of mind between reality and non-reality. It was as if she were looking without really seeing.
When a glimmer caught her eye, she focused at the bottom of the sparkling beverage. Its blush color masked something hard and shiny at the base of her petite goblet. “What…” She intensely stared, then fished it out with her finger
Charles laughed softly. “How un-lady like,” he kidded, drawing attention to her behavior.
She gasped as her fingers produced a rather abundant treasure from her drink. “Oh…my…God…” Her heart trilled at the sight of it. Platinum, diamonds, and perfectly shimmering in the sunlight, it was a jewel fit for queens. Or so it seemed to her, the ring glistening magically in her fingertips.
After mesmerizingly gazing at it, she tilted her head towards her beaming would-be fiancé. “You’re kidding right?” She held out the ring for him to see.
“Of course not,” he warmly smiled, taking the ring from her palm.
To her surprise he dropped to one knee. “I haven’t quite given you a formal proposal yet, my love.” He combed his hair from his face, revealing those sea blue eyes. They gazed upwards to her.
She thought her knees were going to buckle. Butterflies sieged her stomach until she could barely stand it. She just stood there dumbfounded and utterly speechless. Her hands trailed to her mouth in hopes of hiding the surprise, cupping it delicately as many women do.
His entire countenance changed almost immediately. He grew serious, rolling the ring around in the palm of his hand. Then taking it, diamonds facing upwards, he held it up to her.
Clearing his throat, he paralleled tradition as men have done for centuries. “Amber Baptiste,” he started off. “From the moment I met you I’ve known clearly and unmistakably the love I hold for you. Despite the awkward situations we’ve been through and the undoubtedly backwards way our relationship has evolved…I can’t help but find myself the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” he paused, taking in the emotions she exuded.
Her eyes were moist with tears. But they were tears of happiness, threatening to trail down her beautiful cheekbones.
The breeze stilled and the waters almost calmed on cue for the moment. It was a special twinkling in their lives that may never end. It would forever remain a fixture in their memories, which was something Charles had intended to create. He wanted her to remember this day.
He took a breath to deliver the final speech. “I know I’ve hurt you in the past, and for that I cannot apologize enough. But I promise from here on, that I will remain truthful and honest with you till death do us part. Amber, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Her entire life flashed before her eyes. She was born, she grew up, and nothing had seemed quite so spectacular. Her childhood was spent in foster homes, no one really wanting a small dark skinned little girl at the time. Her mother had been some ex-druggy who couldn’t cope with her pregnancy. Her father was some dead-beat loan shark who took off to some foreign country to escape welfare. It was the same thing with many of the other children growing up in New York City, just different situations.
Life held almost nothing for her except for art. Painting was a way to dive deep within her soul and escape everything. It was her own form of expression coming alive before her eyes. She needed it. She thrived off of it, soaking in the raw emotions it invoked within her.
She had never quite thought it would ever amount to anything and it hadn’t. She did it because of the endless need within her to satisfy the craving. It was her one outlet that made everything else seem worth it. And now she had this magnificent creature before her, holding the key to her happiness. All she had to do was take it.
Her fingers outstretched, probing for the gem. It sparkled so. Letting him slide the ring on her left hand, she trembled inside. Her fate was sealed in the precious metal caressing her soft delicate hand.
She looked him in the eyes and answered him for a second time, but this time not in words. Her body radiated certainty, securing him with exuberant absolution.
“I have one more thing for you,” he pulled out a small object from the pocket of his long white pants. He was surely dressed for the part.
“What is it?” she was riddled with curiosity. No matter how interested she was in the second thing he had for her, she couldn’t stop staring at her hand. If she fell overboard she might drown from the weight. Dear Lord, it was too much. She didn’t even want to know how much he spent on it. It had to be worth more than everything she owned put together.
He dangled the key-chain vigorously in front of her. Hanging from the silver ring was a flip open car key covered in brilliant pink crystals. “Here,” he said. “I thought you could use this, seeing as your car isn’t in the best of conditions…” He tried to word it so as not to offend her.
Her face lit up. “For me?!” her heart jumped in her throat. “But my car is okay…” Her voice trailed off when she remembered how okay it really wasn’t. She had missed her car payment last month and the letters had filed in. The bank loved to threaten reclaiming property quite eagerly.
He shook his head unbelievably. “Just take the gift,” he shoved it in her hand. “Let me take care of you. That’s all I ask.”
Accepting the gift, she kissed him gratefully. It was going to be hard getting used to this.
Chapter9
The luxuriant vacation was over in a flash. She now sat behind the wheel of her sparkling pink Mercedes Benz, unsure as how to handle it. She’d been afraid to touch it, because in doing so it might disappear. But when she put her especially decorated key in the ignition and turned it on, the deep rumble reverberated through her, causing tingles of shock waves across her body. Just the pure adrenaline of it all was overwhelming.
She drove through the familiar streets of her neighborhood, hoping no one would notice. But of course, she got plenty of stares from passersby. It wasn’t
too often that a car of this prestige made it to these parts. After all, her apartment wasn’t in the nicest area of New York City. It was in one of the older run-down parts. Sometimes, gun shots were common-place, and Charles worried about her safety living there.
“Come live with me,” he had suggested, not so long ago. She had taken a while to come to a decision, but he insisted so much that she gave in. After all, they were getting married, what could it hurt?
As she pulled up the street where she resided, she couldn’t help but notice a familiar beat-up tan car. It was pimped out completely, a gaudy spoiler on the back. She cringed, slowing down and parking a few cars away. What was he doing here?
Debating whether to tell Charles to meet her out here, she had decided against it. Any problems from her world would have to be resolved on her own. She didn’t need him to babysit her or be her bodyguard. And if Devon was here to give her a hard time, as she knew he was, then she would have to deal with it as she always did. Her new fiancé didn’t need to know certain things about her life.
Grabbing the pepper spray from out of her car, she tucked it in her purse. She had a bad feeling about this.
She walked up the stairs to the welcome door, opened it, and then walked down the familiar hallway until she got to her front door. She took a breath. Her heart was pounding in her chest, making it harder to breathe calmly.
Please don’t let it be open… She prayed silently. Odds were he was waiting inside. He had a habit of doing that, knowing he was unwelcome in her home. That didn’t change anything.
Devon was her violent druggie ex-boyfriend. She had learned that the hard way. His need to control everything was the worst quality about him, and one day she pushed him a little too far. Granted, she’d known this about him before she started dating him, but love was blind. She was so infatuated by his muscles and handsome physique that she overlooked his real intentions.
She burst through the door, planting her feet firmly in the opening of her home. “Get the fuck out,” she yelled boisterously. “I know you’re in here, Devon!” She didn’t want to deal with his shit today. And she was afraid to enter her home and meet with his Russian roulette personality. If she dodged a beating today, she was asking for one tomorrow. And unfortunately, there was nothing she could do but suffer through it. She was tied down too far in the game, despite the fact that she had never asked for any of it.
“Shut the damn door, bitch,” Devon’s familiar deep voice bellowed from her living room. “I’m not playing with you.”
“Do as he says,” another male voice echoed behind him.
Her heart sank upon realizing who else was there. “Jerome,” she questioned, feeling a knot building inside her.
She hesitated with shaking hands before sliding the door closed behind her. This time he had brought family, and it only meant one thing…trouble.
Tiptoeing across her plush carpeted floor, she passed the small hallway and into the kitchen that overlooked her living room. Her heart sank at the picture before her.
Devon stood with a small handgun resting beneath crossed arms. It was the most casual posture he could’ve mustered while still retaining his menacing stance.
Seeing her, he smiled, his super white teeth revealing gold fillings, which clashed against his dark ebony skin. “Welcome home, Babe,” he licked his lips, eyes trailing all over her body.
She felt sick and mentally molested. There was once a time where she found him sexy as hell. But those days were over. She had grown up and moved on from that way of life. It was what she had been used to as a young girl. The foster family who finally adopted her were wonderful people, but their children ran their own shebang right under their noses. And in the midst of it all, she had gotten caught up in the stupid decisions of her siblings.
Jerome sat with legs wide apart in the normal male pose. He was bent forward, elbow resting on his leg, and his chin on his hand.
He shot her a look of apology as she stepped protectively behind the waist-high counter of her kitchen. “What do you two want?” Suspiciously, she noted the tension in the air. This wasn’t some nice-to-see-you-and-say-hi visit. She could smell the blood in the air already, making her hair stand on end.
“Well,” Devon began to casually wave around his firearm.
“Don’t you fucking point that at me,” Amber snapped at him, showing her aggravation with his presence.
He stiffened in response, glowering at her with disapproval. “As I was going to say,” he growled. “Your little brother here likes to bite off more than he can chew.”
“What does this have to do with me?” She spat at him, looking at her brother who seemed to sink into the couch even further than he already was. His dark brown eyes registered fear and sweat beaded his brow.
“What did you do?” She looked at her adopted brother who shrugged.
“Ah, you see…about that,” Devon snarled, and then raised a brow. “Your brother is no longer allowed to talk until we’ve finished our sweet little deal.”
She crossed her arms, setting her purse down on the counter. “What the hell did you do, Jerome?” Her demands lashed out at harshly.
Devon left his comfy little spot next to her brother and settled a few feet away from her.
This she wasn’t comfortable with at all. She balled her fists and clutched once more at her purse. “What do you want, Devon? I don’t have any drugs hidden around for you to steal. I got over that remember? I’m clean and have been for years now.”
Her teenage years were filled with memories she’d rather forget. Being a foster child in the system had its great disadvantages.
“Jerome tells me you’ve turned into a rich bitch recently. By the looks of that huge rock on your finger, the rumors must be true.” He pointed the gun towards her hand.
Self-consciously, she tucked her hand away out of sight. “That’s none of your business,” she murmured, fear gripping her heart as she realized where he was headed.
“Seems to me that you have some access to a bit of money now,” he cocked his head back. “And your brother here seems to have lost a decent sum of product that he owes me. Isn’t that right, Jerome?” He looked over at her brother.
Jerome’s shame stricken face only confirmed things.
Devon laughed wickedly, puffing out his chest. “Seems to me that I should put a bullet in his chest to make us even,” he said, nonchalantly gesturing to the weapon in his hand. “After all, I ain’t gettin’ killed over his stupid mistakes. The boss needs something to show and I’m responsible for his sorry ass.”
Her blood froze in her veins, her palms grew clammy, and a dead weight seemed to drop inside her. “If you’re looking for money to cover your ass, I don’t have any.” Her eyes darted to her brother, who now stared at her pleadingly.
Devon growled, his tone growing aggravated by her revelation. “I saw you drive that nice little Mercedes up the street a ways. I wonder where you got that from. Must be worth a good penny,” he prodded.
And this was why she was afraid of him. He was ruthless and didn’t stop until getting what he wanted. Whether he would really shoot her brother, she wasn’t sure. But she wouldn’t completely put it past him.
“So, I get you your money and you leave us alone for good,” she bargained, hoping that she could find some way out of this mess.
Leaning forward, he whispered. “Tell you what,” he pulled out a pack of Marlboro Black’s, flipped open the package, and let the cigarette dangle loosely from his mouth.
After lighting it he continued. “You get your charming, fancy white prince to write me a nice little check for one million dollars and I will keep my bullets in the chamber far away from any of your family.”
Her eyes almost popped out of her chest as the sum hit her in the face. One million dollars was more money than she’d ever seen in a lifetime. How could he demand so much?
Noticing her surprise, he offhandedly slurred with the cigarette in his mouth. “He can afford it,�
�� he puffed rudely in her face. “He’s loaded. Full background check on your man suggests he has well over a billion dollars just in assets and the bank. I’m sure you knew that by now.”
She coughed as the smoke burned her lungs. “How do you know this?” Her brows furrowed as she waved the air in front of her.
“If I was you,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t be concerning myself with no problems that ain’t your business.” He studied her momentarily. “You’ve got one week. Make it snappy.”
Then almost as fast as things had escalated, he was gone. Jerome sat there, unmoving, daring not to look at his sister. But her eyes burned deep into his soul as everything within her came crashing out.
Chapter10
Charles hadn’t given her much warning, or much time to prepare, as a matter of fact. One moment she was taking her first bubble bath in her new home and then she was on a plane to the Polynesian islands. “Why?” was a question she recently found herself asking a lot. She didn’t even get to spend her first night with him before he had ordered his private jet to fly them out. And in no time at all, they had left the state of New York and were on their way to Bora Bora.
His immediate family all liked to take vacations at their beach house when the weather permitted. The climate was perfect this time of year. He wanted her to meet them prior to the wedding, which seemed a practical idea. However, the thought of going to see her billionaire fiancé’s family brought her nerves to the brink of insanity.
It also didn’t help that she was stressing over the past day’s event, wondering how to handle her own little family issue. Her brother had always been stupid but to get involved in drugs was something else entirely. It wasn’t the same situation she had been in during her teen years. Yes, she may have tripped on acid a few times, snorted some crack, and smoked some pot, but she never got into dealing the stuff. That was something she absolutely refused to do. But the fact that she had gotten involved with Devon in her later teen years and early twenties had placed her into many dangerous predicaments. She just hadn’t cared at the time or she was too naïve to really notice.